All Chapters of Resisting Mr.Popular : Chapter 1 - Chapter 10

LIAM I walk into a house that feels more like a museum exhibit than an actual place people live. Everything is polished, the kind of perfect that makes you feel like you’re suffocating even though the ceiling is twelve feet high and the windows stretch from floor to goddamn ceiling. Liam Harrington’s life. My life. It glitters from the outside the way frost glints on a steel blade, but up close it’s just cold. I drag myself to the long marble table where my father sits, skimming the financial section on his laptop without bothering to acknowledge my existence. I could stroll in on fire and he would still be scanning stock prices like they are the only thing worth noticing. He slides an envelope across the table. “Your presence is required at the Grayson dinner next month. A formal confirmation of the arrangement.” So this is why he wanted to see me? I let the envelope sit there untouched, a small act of defiance that feels pathetically insufficient even as I do it. “I’m not show

LIAM I blink twice in shock. Did that actually happen? The last time someone rejected me was in middle school, back when I was the pimply faced kid with no swagger or charisma. Now, girls rush for me, giggling at my stupid jokes. They don't look me in the eyes, deliver a stinging parting shot, and walk away like I'm just some random guy. Moving through the crowd, I ignore the hands reaching for me, the girls calling my name. I stop next to her, smirking. "You walk out of every conversation, or just the ones with me?" "The ones that aren't worth my time." Placing a hand over my chest, I grin. "Ouch. That almost hurt." "Almost?" she teases. Running my tattooed hands through my wavy blond hair, I eye her sexy hourglass shape in next to nothing. My dick twitches. Little Liam is now semi hard, all thanks to this brunette's fiery attitude. "I'm not that easy to bruise, babe." "Good to know. Now, if you will excuse me," she says, hurrying to make her exit. I move, blocking

LIAM The florist looks at me like I have completely lost my mind when I describe what I want. "All of that? In one bouquet?" She adjusts her glasses, her expression incredulous. "That's going to be extremely expensive." "I couldn't care less about the cost." I lean against her counter, watching her scribble notes on a pad with shaking hands. "I want a thousand red roses because I need it to be impossible to ignore." "Is this for a proposal?" she asks slowly, setting down her pen to study my face. "Something like that." I pull out my black card, sliding it across the counter. "And I need it ready in forty five minutes." She stares at the card for a long moment before nodding. "Not a problem if we're properly motivated." I tap my card, tipping generously. "Thanks, Sir." she says, already reaching for her phone to call in reinforcements. I walk out of the shop and head to where Marcus parked his car. He's leaning against the driver's door, scrolling through his phone with

SKYLAR I can't remember what Prof McAdams has been telling the class, because the annoying Westbrook keeps distracting me. I check my phone, 1:30 p.m., twenty five more minutes. Argh, someone kill me now. An I*******m notification pops up on my screen. My thumb hovers above it, then I click, but it takes me to Liam's I*******m page. A recent post of Liam wearing a baseball jersey and grey shorts, lying on his couch, cuddling a golden retriever, stares right back at me. This post is doing funny things to my pussy. God my kryptonite has always been men with adorable puppies. I'm not crushing on him or anything, I'm only stating the obvious. The comment section is full of "Aww, this is so cute" with the heart eyes emoji. "Miss Reynolds, perhaps you would like to share with the class what's so fascinating on your phone?" McAdams' voice cuts through the lecture hall. My head snaps up. Half the class turns to stare at me as heat creeps up my neck. "Sorry, Professor. It's a text from my

LIAM This isn't creepy is what I tell myself as I sit in the corner booth of the café, laptop open to a half finished economics paper I have zero intention of completing. I have been here for two hours, nursing the same cold coffee, watching the door. April Chen walks in at exactly 2:47 PM. Right on time with a little help from a birdie. "Hey, can I get a small black coffee?" she asks the barista, her voice tired. "And blueberry muffins, thanks." She pays in crumpled bills. Chris walks in, some guy from a rival frat, sociology major. They settle into a table near the windows, close enough that their voices carry. "Thanks for meeting me," April says, wrapping both hands around her coffee cup like she is trying to absorb its warmth. "I needed to talk to someone." He gives her a quick kiss, leaning in. "Of course. What's going on?" "I don't know what I'm going to do, Chris." Her voice cracks, and I pretend to adjust my earbuds while slipping them off my ears. "The rent is going up