Aspire - Kanthony's continuation story

Chapter 11 - Past and Present Evenings

"Ah, our final roommate has finally arrived!" He grinned, walked straight up to Simon and grabbed his hand quite familiarly. "Anthony Bridgerton." He introduced himself. "Viscount Bridgerton." He added in a casual tone. Simon felt how all the tenseness immediately left his body. Somehow he immediately knew that he would like this Bridgerton fellow, who seemed so pleasant already, before he even knew that Simon was the son of a duke. Anthony Bridgerton appeared to possess that certain self-confidence that most first-born sons tended to have quite naturally, in harsh contrast to Simon himself, as if everyone had told him all his life that he was splendid, unique and important. Still, he radiated a friendliness that Simon had seldom met in his life. His smile felt contagious and the twinkle in his eyes was downright captivating, like he was instantly trying to drag Simon into some mischief with him. Simon was quite sure that Anthony Bridgerton indeed was no stranger to mischief, at least judging by his dark chestnut hair that looked like it had just been messed up by some frantic young miss.

"Simon Basset." He smiled cautiously back at Anthony.

"Basset..." Anthony seemed to ponder upon the name. "Oh, you are the son of the Duke of Hastings! I have met him in London several times!" His face lit up when he realised who Simon was. "Your Grace." He added with a little polite bow.

"I am no duke yet." Simon smirked embarrassedly.

"Of course." Anthony laughed and straightened his back. "I believe I have never seen you in London with your father?" He wondered in a curious tone.

"Yes, I have lived elsewhere." Simon blurted out.

"I understand, I too enjoy staying at our ancestral home in Kent." Anthony said, but suddenly seemed to get distracted, as if some veil had been pulled across his face. "Or, I did..." He hummed and Simon saw a flash of pain and deep grievance in his brown eyes. Simon felt instantly more intrigued about this man, since grief was something he himself was much too familiar with, but Anthony quickly put his smile back on. "How rude I am! This other gentleman is Mr Thomas Dorset, the second son of the Baron Dorset, and the third fellow is Nigel Berbrooke, eldest son of Lord Berbrooke." Anthony introduced the other roommates, apparently having instinctively taken the position as the leader of their small group. Simon glanced at the young man presented as Thomas Dorset and thought that he looked a little bit like a less self-confident and less dashingly handsome version of Anthony Bridgerton, even though they had a similar unruly mop of brown hair. Dorset had a friendly smirk on his face and Simon nodded politely to him, thinking they might become friends as well. And then there was the third new acquaintance... Nigel Berbrooke was a short rat-faced man who seemed to be a few years older than the rest of them. Simon could not help but wonder to himself whether it was because the man was perhaps so daft that he had been stuck at school for a greater amount of years than his peers. Berbrooke cast a slimy smile at Simon, who immediately decided that he would not like this man.

"Come, Basset!" Anthony exclaimed and grabbed his shoulder. "You can see to your belongings later, come down to the pub with us!" He stated, making it sound more like an order than a suggestion. And so Simon did follow Anthony to the pub, like he would do during countless more nights, always wondering what it was that caused his new friend such pain that made him so eagerly throw himself into the oblivion offered by liquor and women. Until the wondering stopped that one late night, when they had shared their stories about the different relationships they had with their fathers. After that night Anthony and Simon, more commonly known as "The Basserton Brothers" at the campus, became inseparable - against all odds. Anthony was like a blazing comet burning through the sky, his gravitation pulling towards him both women and men alike on every corner and at every party, where he always seemed to be the centre of it all. The ladies loved him and the gentlemen loved having him as a friend, apart from a few who probably hated him because they were envious or simply regarded the young viscount to be a bit too fond of himself. Anthony was irritatingly good at everything he set his mind upon, whether it was languages, history, mathematics, horse-riding, fencing or any other sport. Meanwhile Simon still had to struggle with his studies, especially oral presentations in front of others made him almost faint from horror. He was shy in making new friends and even shyer when he was approached by women, which much to Simon's surprise often made the young ladies even more fascinated by him. The only thing Simon outbested Anthony in was shooting, as the viscount did not seem to be able to hit a small target even if his life would have depended on it.