Live-Streaming My A-List Ex's Obsession

I joined a reality TV show and slammed right into my Alist exboyfriend. I forced a plastic smile. "See you tomorrow, Declan." Pure fake sugar dripped from my voice.

Seconds later, sharp knocks rattled my bedroom door. His signature lazy drawl bled through the wood. "It's tomorrow.

Come out and see me." Me, plus thousands of fans currently watching my livestream: ? My nightstand clock flashed exactly 12:01 AM.

The live chat exploded: [Bro, the obsession is real. Someone explain the concept of 'tomorrow' to this man.] Chapter 1 [The hell kind of 'tomorrow' is this?

It's literally 12:05!] [He sounds so desperate! Just go out and see him! Let us see who this bold guy is!] [Has the guy outside ever read a dictionary?

Does he know what 'tomorrow' means?] [Wait, if I'm not hearing things, was that Declan?!] [It totally sounds like him.] Declan.

The man who permanently occupied the top three spots on the entertainment industry's most eligible bachelors list.

He broke the internet and debuted based solely on a leaked ID photo. Watching his name flood the screen, I forced a dry laugh.

I opened my mouth to play it off, but the man outside beat me to it. "Harlow, we agreed on tomorrow. You're five minutes and seven seconds late." I was dead.

Declan's voice was too distinct. It had that signature lazy, gravelly texture. I glanced back at my phone. The screen was completely hijacked by his name. [Holy shit!

It IS Declan!] [Probably just sounds like him. No way it's actually him.] [I mean, technically it's 12:05 AM.

He's not wrong about it being 'tomorrow.'] [You guys flipflopped so fast!

A second ago you were insulting his intelligence!] […] In less than a minute, my viewer count skyrocketed from four digits to six. The app froze completely.

The screen became utterly unresponsive. I forceclosed the app. I shoved myself off the bed and marched toward the door. I yanked it open. He had only buttoned his shirt halfway.

The wideopen collar exposed the hard, sculpted lines of his chest. I glared at him. "Can I help you?" "Hmm? Didn't you say 'see you tomorrow'?

I thought you needed me for something." Declan was shamelessly twisting the truth. I gritted my teeth. "My mistake. It's late.

Please go back to your room and get some sleep." He theatrically checked his watch. "It's exactly 12:10 AM. Not late at all. Let's go grab breakfast. My treat.

Only an idiot turns down free food." He leaned against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow with a mocking smirk playing on his lips. He was baiting me. That was the last straw.

I exhaled sharply and flashed him my brightest, fakest smile. "I'm not eating. Get lost. Do you have any idea that I'm currently—" "Harlow!" A cold shout cut my rant short.

My pupils constricted as I spotted the woman marching toward us, her face pale with horror. I was so incredibly screwed. It was Carmen, my manager.

She looked at me like her will to live had just evaporated, dropping her voice to a frantic whisper. "You absolute menace. Your live stream didn't disconnect.

It caught every single word." My blood ran cold. Screwed didn't even begin to cover it. I could practically see my career waving goodbye.

DeclanRedefinesTomorrow HarlowTellsDeclanToGetLost 12:30 AM. Trending topics about me and Declan hijacked the top charts.

The internet was in an uproar. [Is this my punishment for staying up late? What exactly is his relationship with that woman?] [This Dlist nobody is desperate for fame.

She actually has the nerve to leech off his clout.] [Fans only have meltdowns over his actual girl! LMAO!] [They just talked about grabbing food.

What does that prove?] [Even Batman doesn't rush over at midnight just to beg Robin to grab a latenight bite.] […] [How could anyone look at Declan's ridiculously hot face and tell him to get lost?

She's so fake.] [I stared at that last comment and chuckled, nodding in total agreement. Valid point.] Chapter 2 Declan had toptier genetics. Sharp jawline, deepset eyes.

Whenever he lifted those heavy lids to look at someone, his gaze was glacial. He radiated a cold, untouchable distance.

It was honestly hard to stay mad at a face and body like that. Except for me. That flawless exterior was just a scam. Underneath, he had a razorsharp tongue and a petty streak.

If this guy bit his own tongue, he'd drop dead from his own poison. Declan had been two years ahead of me in college. I had fallen for him at first sight.

After two straight weeks of shameless chasing, I finally scraped together the guts to confess.

He stared at me, a cold smirk playing on his lips. "Have you been inhaling too much dry shampoo? Or are you just naturally this delusional?" Autumn warned me.

You can't force chemistry. I scoffed at that. You don't know if a drink is bitter until you take a sip. I threw myself at him for another solid month. Finally. He rejected me again.

He looked me dead in the eye. "There's a fine line between 'dedication' and 'desperation.' You just sprinted past it." I gritted my teeth and chased him for another two weeks.

On my absolute final attempt, I cornered him. To my absolute shock, he actually said yes. Naturally, the very next day, I unceremoniously dumped him.

He let out a dark, disbelieflaced laugh. He demanded to know why. I tipped my chin up, completely unapologetic. "Honestly? You're kind of mid once the novelty wears off." Heh.

Pure, unadulterated petty revenge. His eyes went dead. "You've got nerve." Not long after that, I stumbled my way into the entertainment industry. I hadn't seen him since.

Until earlier today. Davis had told me to wait outside the shooting location. He sent someone to fetch me.

Two minutes later, a figure approached through the misty rain, gripping a black umbrella. I couldn't make out his face in the downpour. All I saw was his sheer height.

He wore a skintight black turtleneck. The wet fabric clung to every hard muscle of his chest. The umbrella dipped low, only exposing a sharp, angular jawline.

He stopped exactly three steps away. My eyes locked onto the thick veins roping across his knuckles as he gripped the umbrella handle. My mouth went completely dry.

I swallowed hard. "Hi. I'm the new guest. You can call me Harlow." A low, vibrating chuckle slipped from his throat. The umbrella tipped back. His face hit the light.

My breath hitched in my throat. He stared down at me. "Long time no see.

Do I need to introduce myself?" I ducked my head instantly, my voice cracking. "No need." Carmen's frantic voice snapped me back to the present. "We went to college together," I admitted. "Do you guys have beef?" "I… don't think so?" The lie felt chalky on my tongue.

He actually played nice when we bumped into each other earlier today. He carried my luggage. He even mocksweetly asked if my 'vision problems' had cleared up yet.

When he asked that, he straightened his spine. The black turtleneck stretched taut, outlining the heavy, sculpted planes of his chest.

Staring at it made a wave of primal regret wash over me. I should have copped a feel, traced those abs, and kissed him breathless before I dumped him.

And just now, he invited me to grab a midnight snack. That meant we were totally cool, right?

I latched onto that logic and nodded with fake conviction. "No beef at all!" Carmen jumped at my sudden volume, rolling her eyes. "Whatever. Just go to sleep.

I'll handle PR." I tossed and turned that night. The past kept bleeding into my dreams on an endless loop. The guy in my dream was crisp and untouchable.

He had his uniform buttoned all the way to his throat.

Lean, rigid, and standing on that auditorium stage, radiating that arrogant, blinding confidence only a teenage boy could pull off.

Chapter 3 He picked up the mic, his voice effortlessly carrying over the crowd. "I already snagged early admission to Stanford. Honestly, there's nothing I can teach you guys.

I only got a perfect SAT score because the test maxes out at 1600. Grind a little harder, and maybe you'll catch up to my pace." He paused. "I know you want to punch me right now.

That's fine. I'll be waiting at Stanford. I promise I won't even fight back." His eyes crinkled with a cocky, blinding smile.

He radiated pure, unchecked arrogance. "See you in two years. Don't ghost." In that split second, across the sea of students, our eyes locked.

My heart slammed against my ribs, drowning out the roar of the crowd. The deafening cheers faded into a blurry echo as reality crashed back in.

Suddenly, hands yanked me roughly upright. My heart nearly stopped. Carmen's frantic voice pierced my eardrums. "Harlow, check Twitter right now!

Declan has lost his damn mind." Huh? I blinked. Wide awake. Turns out, Declan had gone viral at 3 AM for dragging internet trolls into the mud. Except, they were my haters.

Hater: [If Declan actually knows her, I'll eat shit.] Declan: [Stop trying to farm engagement off my name.] Hater: [Has she looked in a mirror?

How dare she try to leech off our boy.] Declan: [Do I have to admit that I was the one throwing myself at her?

Are you guys gonna be happy when your cyberbullying makes her block my number?] Hater: [Not a stan or anything, but… Didn't sound like Declan at all.

Honestly, everything she said sounded fake AF.] Declan: [You're an absolute clown. 'Neutral bystander,' my ass.] Hater: […] Declan successfully drew the entire internet's crosshairs.

Fans and netizens were exasperated by his actions. [Bro, you have THAT face and you're out here playing the secret admirer trope?] [Dude, let me teach you.

Walk up, say 'I like you,' and boom, done.] [Bro, if you're this pathetic, we'll go spam Harlow's mentions and beg her for you!] [Just woke up and saw this: Do I need to go beg too?] […] What kind of sick, twisted revenge was this?!

Declan was actively sabotaging me. I stared up at Carmen, my eyes watering. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but she beat me to it.

She gripped my shoulders, her nails digging in, her face flushed with manic excitement. "Harlow, a golden ticket just dropped right into our laps.

Are you taking it?" Seeing my shellshocked expression, she elaborated. "Declan's team just reached out. They want a PR contract. A showmance!" My racing heart finally calmed down.

Of course. No wonder Declan went to war in the comment section. He was playing the long game. A fake relationship was the ultimate hack to instant clout.

It didn't matter how dirty the tactic was, it worked. I hesitated. "Carmen, I really want to make it on my own merits." "His team is tossing over two indie brand endorsements.

Seven figures. Plus a few guaranteed second female lead scripts." "I'm in!" Hesitating for even a single second was a blatant disrespect to a sevenfigure paycheck.

Carmen and I spent the next thirty minutes strategizing. We cracked the code. Max out the oncamera interactions. Let the shippers and the gossip accounts do the heavy lifting.

A sharp knock echoed against my door. "Miss Harlow, we're rolling in five. Are you ready?" The VIP early access stream was already live. I hit the bottom of the stairs.

Declan's eyes tracked me. A flicker of stiff awkwardness crossed his face. "Don't get the wrong idea. I was just in a bad mood last night, I wasn't—" "Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get it.

Say less." I sliced through his sentence. What the hell was he blabbering about? He was physically blocking my camera angle.

Then, the phantom weight of that sevenfigure contract hit my brain. I flipped the switch.

I softened my posture and stared up at him, my eyes practically dripping with absolute, sickening adoration.

Chapter 4 Declan caught my gaze, and the color instantly drained from his face.

He looked away first, his tone incredibly grumpy. "Even if you can't stand the sight of me, at least try to fake it for the cameras. Stop glaring." Me: ? Son of a bitch.

If he didn't need his eyes, he should seriously donate them to someone who did. Just as I opened my mouth to rip into him, a voice sliced through the tension.

Sickeningly sweet, but it grated on the ears. "Dec! You're here too. What a coincidence!" I glanced over at the speaker. Chloe. The industry's newest rising star.

She costarred with Declan in his last project, and their onscreen chemistry blew up. The hype singlehandedly catapulted her onto the Blist.

I forced a polite smile and opened my mouth to say hi.

She completely bypassed me, wedging herself right into the narrow gap between me and Declan. "Why didn't you text me you were coming?

When Davis said there'd be a familiar face, I totally thought he was bluffing." She tilted her head. "Oh, by the way, I just came from an audition. Guess which script?

If you get it right, dinner's on me." She dropped her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Hint: You're attached to it too." She played the familiar, flirty card perfectly.

Batting her eyelashes like that, she objectively looked cute. But Declan barely spared her a glance. He hit her with weaponized politeness. "No idea.

And I don't really care to know. Thanks." He dropped his gaze back to his phone, radiating pure rejection. The sickeningly sweet smile froze on Chloe's face.

She lowered her lashes, playing the victim. But from my angle, I caught the vicious, impatient eye roll she tried to hide. Complete dead air. The silence was deafening.

The live chat went wild: [Declan really said: Blah blah blah, I literally do not care about you. (inserts blue meme face)] [My poor baby girl! What is Declan's problem?

Such a tryhard!] [Are you delusional? He set a polite boundary.

Does the whole world have to orbit around your pickme queen?] […] Right as I was scrolling through the chaos in the chat, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

A rapidfire string of texts from Declan. [The steak I ate last night was more familiar with me than she is.] [The only 'connection' we have is her desperate obsession with starting a showmance with me.] [But I shut that down every single time!] He punctuated that last text with a smug, chestpuffing panda meme.

He seemed incredibly proud of himself. A laugh bubbled up in my throat, and the corners of my mouth twitched upward.

I didn't realize that tiny smirk just painted a massive target on my back. Chloe instantly pivoted her aggression toward me.

She feigned a look of sudden realization, curving her lips into a sugary smile as she leaned in. "Oh, you must be Harlow!

I've heard so much about you." I flipped my phone facedown against my palm. Now I was intrigued. A literal nobody like me actually made it into the industry gossip mill? "Really?

What exactly did you hear?" "I heard you play an incredibly convincing corpse! You've been stuck in the exact same extra roles for six straight years.

So dedicated to your craft!" Me: … Suddenly, I wasn't so intrigued anymore. When I didn't take the bait, Chloe acted like she just realized how insulting her words were.

She pouted her lips in mock distress and lightly tapped her own forehead. "Oh no, Harlow, did I say the wrong thing?

I swear I didn't mean to bring up the fact that you're a flop with zero acting skills." She tilted her head, batting her lashes. "You'll forgive me, right?" Chapter 5