Chapter 2
TWO
Theo Pembroke
Asher and I were halfway through rearranging the living room when it hit me that I still hadn’t told Beckett I was living with his rival.
The realization settled in my stomach. He’d find out eventually.
He always did. And if I didn’t tell him tonight, he would absolutely kill me, or worse, give me that disappointed look that peeled me open a little.
Asher needed a place to stay. That was how it started. Practical solution to a problem that a mutual friend, Leah, brought to my attention.
Leah had actually tried to set us up last year, and I had to explain to her that just because she knew two gay guys didn’t mean they’d make a good couple. Of course, I left out the feelings I harbored for a certain someone.
I had money. A lot of it. Some inherited, some earned, all of it more than I needed. So when the opportunity came up, I offered him the second bedroom at a lower rate, no questions asked.
Leah had nudged the idea along. Framed it as a favor.
He’s in a rough spot, Theo. You’re kind.
You have room. She knew about Beckett and Asher’s rivalry.
Everyone did. I explained it anyway, rambling and over-apologetic, as if it might scare them off.
How Beckett was my best friend. How Asher was his academic nemesis.
How messy it could get. Neither of them cared.
Asher had just shrugged, sleeves pushed up, hands already busy shifting furniture as if he belonged there. Like this was temporary. Like he wasn’t slowly becoming the axis my thoughts kept orbiting.
And Beckett… Beckett didn’t know yet. Not about Asher sleeping across the hall.
Not about how my chest tightened every time Asher laughed.
Not about the complicated ache of wanting two people in two very different ways and knowing I was already doing something unforgivable just by delaying the truth.
I nudged the couch into place and forced myself to breathe.
Tonight, I told myself. I’d tell him tonight, before the lie got any bigger.
Asher hated Beckett for everything he thought Beckett represented. Another rich boy with a polished smile and a sense of entitlement baked in. Pompous. Spoiled. A player who coasted on charm and cheated his way through anything difficult.
In some ways, Asher wasn’t wrong. Beckett could be careless with his privilege. He liked attention. He knew how to use people’s expectations to his advantage.
But he was also brilliant. Relentlessly driven. He worked for his grades in a way no one ever seemed to notice, fueled by a fear of failure his father had carved into him early on. The kind of fear that sticks. The kind you don’t shake. I knew pieces of that story, but it wasn’t mine to tell.
Beckett hated Asher because Asher saw through him.
Because he called out the arrogance and the shortcuts, and the moments where Beckett tried to coast. Every sharp comment chipped away at the version of himself Beckett wanted the world to believe in, and it made him feel small. Like he’d been found out.
From where I stood, it all felt tragically unnecessary.
If they ever bothered to stop circling each other like predators, they might realize how similar they were.
Top of their classes. Sought-after tutors.
Secretly obsessed with obscure, pretentious films I endured out of loyalty and boredom in equal measure.
Asher knew what I did to make extra money. That was what separated him from Beckett.
I couldn’t say the same about Beckett, not for sure, which was why I hadn’t told him yet.
Much like I hadn’t told him Asher spent the last several weeks staying at my estate when he had nowhere to go after a fight with his family.
It was how I knew about his passion for film, and how he threw chocolate candy in his popcorn.
“So… is Beckett coming over for dinner, or are you two going out?” Asher asked, glancing at the calendar pinned to the wall.
Of course, he’d noticed. The thing was impossible to miss.
Color-coded blocks, movie nights circled in careful marker, our class schedules mapped out like a shared brain.
We’d started it as a practical thing, a way to avoid stepping on each other’s time or asking awkward questions about where the other was.
Somewhere along the way, it had turned domestic.
Embarrassingly so. Like we were playing house without ever acknowledging it.
I liked it more than I should have.
It meant time together felt intentional. Planned. It meant we could align our workdays, too, which mattered more than I’d expected. Especially after I told him how I made extra income.
He hadn’t recoiled. Hadn’t laughed. Hadn’t asked if I was ashamed. He’d just listened, eyes thoughtful, then asked how it worked. How people got started. A week later, he asked if I thought he could do it too.
That was how we ended up filming together.
Only a few times so far. Clean. Controlled. Framed like art, instead of desperation. I told myself that’s all it was—collaboration and mutual benefit.
He needed the money. Tuition didn’t wait for pity, and the school didn’t care that his parents had kicked him out with nothing but a duffel bag and a phone. He didn’t qualify for much aid with his parent’s income.
So here we were. Sharing a space. Sharing a calendar. Sharing a secret income stream neither of us talked about outside these walls. And Beckett had no idea.
I looked at Asher, standing there in my kitchen like he belonged, and felt the familiar twist in my chest. Want braided with guilt.
Loyalty pulling one way, desire another.
I had always separated sex from feelings.
Feelings had never been involved in sex, because no one could emotionally compare to what I felt for Beckett.
Then, Asher Montgomery started making me question everything. I thought sleeping with him would be safe; that I’d never fall for my best friend’s enemy.
“Yeah,” I said finally, forcing my voice light. “He’s coming over. I…haven’t told him,” I admitted, though I was certain Asher knew.
He nodded his head. “Right. Yeah. I can disappear for a bit while you break the news.”
I took a steadying breath and went for the kill. “I think you’d actually get along if you tried,” I said carefully. “You have more in common than you think. Way more.”
Asher let out a sharp, humorless huff. “I have nothing in common with a guy who spends his weekends drinking and fucking his way through campus,” he said.
“He doesn’t take school seriously, yet somehow he’s second-best in every class we share except the one he beat me in last year.
” His jaw tightened. “He throws money at his problems. I’m empty-handed. ”
The words still landed hard, since Asher was fully aware of where I came from. He knew about my parent’s money. Knew the apartment was mine before it was ours. Knew our families ran in the same circles—shared history, holiday dinners, and mutual obligations.
And yet he never spoke about me that way.
That difference gnawed at me. Why Beckett had been reduced to entitlement and excess while I was granted grace. Was it because I worked? Because I’d built something quietly on my own terms? Or because Asher wanted to believe there were exceptions to his rules, and I was convenient proof?
I wondered, not for the first time, what would happen if he knew how much I relied on that safety net. That my FanFeed wasn’t survival so much as indulgence. That my parents’ money softened every fall, including his rent, even if I never said it out loud.
The only reason my account succeeded was because I garnered hundreds of thousands of followers from being a spoiled gay kid who was set to inherit billions of dollars one day.
People were only interested in my life because of my money, status, and family.
They liked watching me shop for luxury items, but none of them knew who Theo truly was beneath the glam.
I raised my hands in surrender, keeping my voice gentle. “Okay. I get it,” I said. “But you’re wrong about him.”
Asher didn’t respond.
“I just… I hope you see it one day,” I added quietly.
Because standing between the two of them was starting to feel like choosing sides. And I wasn’t sure how long I could pretend I wasn’t already fractured down the middle. The divide in my growing feelings and lust for both of them was going to split me in half one day.
“Forget the talk about Beckett,” Asher said, his voice dropping, roughened at the edges.
He stepped closer, and my heartbeat spiked in response, loud enough I was sure he could hear it.
“We’re here now. The studio’s set up.” Another step.
“And my first tuition payment’s due soon.
” The air between us suddenly felt smaller.
Warmer. “Perfect timing,” he continued, a slow smile curling across his mouth, deliberate this time, calculated.
“We should make our first video. Lean into the college storyline.”
That smile did things to me it had no right to. My stomach fluttered, traitorous and light, even as my brain scrambled to catch up. This wasn’t new. We’d done this before. Planned shoots. Framed scenes. Pretended it was all just business.
Except the way he was looking at me now didn’t feel like strategy.
I swallowed, fingers curling at my sides as he closed the last bit of distance between us. Too close for neutrality. Too close to forget that Beckett was my best friend. Too close to ignore how badly I wanted this, how easily I’d say yes just to see that smile again.
Business, I reminded myself. Just business. My pulse didn’t believe me.
I nodded frantically. “Yeah. Okay. Makes sense. Just…let me take care of myself real quick, and I’ll meet you in the room in ten.”
“I’ll set up the cameras,” he offered.
I watched him walk away, and released my breath when he entered our filming studio, which truly looked like nothing more than a kinky bedroom.
I always prepped myself before scenes with Asher. Not because he asked, but because I wasn’t ready to be that vulnerable in front of him.
In the bathroom, I took my time. Breathed. Let my reflection settle. By the time I was done, my nerves had softened into something steadier, my body relaxed enough to stop overthinking every possible outcome.
I slipped back into our room the way I always did, pulse thrumming low and insistent. Asher was waiting, already at ease in the space like it belonged to him, like I belonged here too. The familiarity calmed me more than it should have.
This wasn’t just work. It never was.
And every time, I wondered if he felt the same tension humming under his skin. Or if this was just another transaction to him, clean and uncomplicated, while I stood there pretending my heart wasn’t already leaning too far forward.
“Are you ready, Theo?” Asher’s calm voice asked, bringing me back to reality.
I cleared my throat, looking his shirtless body up and down while drool slid down my chin. Asher had abs and muscles, while I had a thin frame, but thankfully a plump, round ass.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. Yup. Let’s get the camera going.”