Page 12 of Obsession on Repeat (Vinyl Hearts #1)

Gina was wiping down the bar, humming to herself as she polished glassware. She glanced up as I approached, eyes immediately narrowing with curiosity. "Okay, you’ve got the face." She lowered the rag. "Spill."

I slumped onto a bar stool, crossing my arms against the counter. "Things are complicated, and I have no one to talk to about it."

"Talk to Dr. Gina." She leaned on the bar, fully attentive.

"Sullivan and I have been fighting a lot lately."

"About what?"

"Everything. Nothing." I rubbed a hand over my face. "We keep arguing about how fast things are moving. Six months ago, I didn’t know who he was, and now I’m living with him, trying to rebuild myself all over again. He wants more, and I’m barely keeping my head above water."

Her eyes softened with understanding. "It’s a huge, life-changing decision to make so suddenly."

"It’s massive, and now, every conversation we have feels like walking through a minefield. I haven’t been able to say ‘I love you’ back. He keeps saying it, and it… hangs there."

"You don’t feel the same?"

"I think I do." My voice cracked slightly. "But what if saying it makes it hurt more if it doesn’t work out?"

She was quiet for a moment, studying me. "Maybe it’s supposed to feel that way. Loving someone isn’t safe." She tapped her finger gently on my arm. "You’re terrified of losing control."

I let out a shaky laugh. "I know, and I hate that."

"Look, Rory," her voice lost all traces of teasing, "I don’t know him, but I’ve seen the way he looks at you."

"Then why am I doubting everything?"

"Because you’re human. Because letting someone in is agreeing to opening yourself to all kinds of pain." She squeezed my hand briefly. "But maybe it’s time to figure out if he’s worth the risk."

I took a deep breath, nodding slowly. "Maybe it is."

"For the record, if you do go, I’m stealing all your good playlists."

I didn’t wait until morning to call him back. The conversation with Gina echoed through my thoughts, replaying like lyrics stuck on repeat. The second I entered the house, I opened my phone.

"Rory?" He picked up on the second ring, voice heavy with sleep. "Everything okay?"

"Can we talk?"

He was instantly alert. "Of course. What’s going on?"

I sank onto the couch, pulling a pillow tight against my chest. I inhaled deeply, steadying myself. "I’m scared, terrified, actually, of how quickly things have changed."

"It’s been an entire month since you moved in with me, and you haven’t spoken a word about this, about how you feel." He sighed softly. "Is that why you can’t say I love you back?"

My heart twisted painfully. "Yes. Because saying it gives up control entirely. And what if I’m not enough? What if this blows up, and I’m left alone in a city I don’t know, after giving up everything here?"

"Rory, it kills me that you’ve been carrying this alone. I love you, but that doesn’t mean I want you to lose yourself. I don’t need you to sacrifice everything to prove anything to me."

"I don’t want to lose you."

"You won’t, not unless you push me away, and then, I’d probably be around, annoyingly persistent."

I laughed, the tension finally loosening in my chest. "That does sound like you."

"Look, I know it’s scary. I’m scared, too, but I told you we’d figure it out together. We can slow down. If you need to find a place of your own, it’d hurt, but I’d understand."

"I don’t want to find another place to live." I hesitated. "I do love you. I’m sorry I’m telling you for the first time over the phone."

"I know, but hearing you finally say it back? Totally worth the wait. Do you feel better now?"

I smiled softly into the phone. "Much better."

I had barely finished my first cup of coffee when my phone began to buzz from where I had discarded it onto the coffee table.

Sitting down my mug, I glanced at the screen, expecting a text from Sullivan or maybe a notification from the club group chat about tonight’s shift, but instead I saw a flood of notifications.

My stomach sank. There was a flood of tagged photos followed by comments on social media. My phone buzzed again in my hand as articles began to pop up in bubbles across the screen.

I tapped the first notification, pulse quickening as the image loaded.

Sullivan Masters' Mystery Girlfriend Has Moved to LA? Are we looking at the newest power couple taking Hollywood by storm?

I sank down onto my couch, feeling sick. My phone rang again. His name flashed urgently, and I answered.

He didn’t greet me, his voice already tense. "Eric told me about the articles. It somehow leaked that you’re with me now in LA."

"It was only a matter of time. You’re famous, Sully. Have you talked to anyone about me?"

"No one I wouldn’t trust completely. I swear I didn’t leak anything." He sighed. "My life isn’t normal, but it’s part of being with me. It might never go away completely."

"I knew that when I agreed to move back here." I chewed my bottom lip, mind spinning in circles. "This is going to be Australia all over again, with them hounding me and finding me at my job. Shit. I need to talk to Vanessa."

"I can get Eric to try to do some damage control, maybe we should look into hiring you some bodyguards."

I frowned at the suggestion. "Absolutely not. That’s not who I am. I won’t live that way."

"Rory, I want you to be safe, especially when I’m not around to make sure of it."

"I’ll talk to Vanessa. I’ll see what my options are. For now… I think not answering is the best answer. We can talk about it when you get back."

"Rory…"

"I’ll be fine, I promise. Focus on work. You said it yourself, we’ll figure it out."

I knew he didn’t want to drop the subject, but he merely agreed, the call ending. I sat on the couch and stared at the phone, the notifications continuing to pour in, the sound of the phone echoing through the house.

By the time I got to the club that evening, the tabloids had done their damage .

My phone was flooded with questions, unsolicited opinions about my life and my relationship with him. I ignored the numerous paparazzi that crowded my car as I pulled into the parking lot, ducking against the glare of lights, and was thankful that the bouncers had been outside to run interference.

I couldn’t breathe. I ran up the stairs without greeting anyone, not stopping until I reached the door to the booth.

Leaning against the wall, eyes closed, I fought desperately to regain my equilibrium, my heart racing.

I was close to having a panic attack, my head spinning despite the solid wall against my fingertips.

"Are you okay?"

My eyes snapped open. Asher stood at the end of the hall, studying me carefully.

"I’m fine."

"You're a terrible liar."

I sighed, giving up the pretense. "Have you seen the headlines? They’re not true."

There had been several more articles over the past few hours, all with salacious lies, rumors, full of stories about our relationship, about who I was, and how he was a playboy having the time of his life with a woman begging for fame.

He approached me slowly. "It doesn’t matter. The truth isn't what sells."

"I didn't ask for this. I'm—"

"Dating someone whose life comes with a spotlight." He hesitated. "Look, Rory, fame isn't kind. It takes everything you love and tries to twist it into something ugly."

I met his eyes, startled by the sincerity I found there. "What do I do?"

"You hold onto the real things." His voice was soft, reassuring. "If you and Sullivan have something real, protect it fiercely. If it isn't strong enough, be honest with yourself. There's nothing worse than pretending."

I stared at him, my throat suddenly tight. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because someone should," he smiled faintly. "And because I wish someone had done it for me."

There was silence between us, not awkward but charged.

"Thank you."

He nodded. "Anytime."

I let him get halfway down the hall before my voice slipped out, hesitant and vulnerable. "Asher?"

He paused, turning back slightly.

"Do you think I'm strong enough to survive this?"

"I think you're strong enough to survive anything." He studied me, his expression unreadable. "The real question you should be asking is how badly do you want to?"

Asher left me alone with those words echoing quietly in the silence.

The next morning, my phone lit up before I’d even had coffee. Seeing Sullivan’s name on the screen, I answered, a sudden flare of concern overwhelming me. "What’s wrong?"

"I wanted to check on you after last night. Eric’s been updating me on all of the articles. We’re tracking down the journalists and their publishing houses. It’s possible we may have grounds for a lawsuit, or at least threaten them with legal action. Maybe it’ll slow things down for a bit."

I ventured into the kitchen. I needed coffee, something for my nerves, or at least something comforting and familiar. "It was a rough night, but I made it." I moved around the kitchen. "I almost had a panic attack, but I had help working through it."

He hesitated, a brief pause filling the line. "What kind of help?"

"Asher Lark, he’s a silent partner with Vanessa; he caught me in the hallway mid-spiral. I think I would have passed out if he hadn’t been there. "

"Why is this the first time I’m hearing about him? I didn’t know he co-owned the club."

"It never came up in our conversations. To be honest, I didn’t think anything of it." Pulling a mug down from the cabinet, I frowned. "It wasn’t a big deal. He’s nice."

He grunted into the phone. "You were falling apart, and you didn’t call me. He’s practically a stranger."

"He’s my boss, and he was there. I was freaking out. He understood."

"Of course he was. Did you talk to him about us?"

I sat the mug down on the counter with a dull thud. "He saw the headlines."

"I bet he did." His voice hardened, and beneath the anger, I could sense something. It was fear. "You don’t think it’s convenient how he was suddenly there when you were vulnerable?"

My frown deepened. "He knows I’m with you. He respects it."

"You honestly think he cares about boundaries? I know guys like him. I’ve worked with guys like him. He’s known for being a playboy."

"I trust him." Immediately, I knew I’d chosen the wrong words.

The silence stretched, sharp and painful.

"Do you trust him more than you trust me?"

"Of course not, but things feel fragile right now, and he was there. "

He sighed, suddenly sounding exhausted. "Maybe this was always going to happen. Maybe I was naive thinking I could have this, have you, and keep my life the way it was."

"You do have me," I insisted, voice cracking.

"I don’t want Asher Lark of all people comforting you. That’s my job."

The possessiveness was raw, an unfamiliar feeling invading my thoughts. "Then I need you here, not on another continent."

"I already told Eric that I’m taking the next flight out. Rory?" His voice lowered. "If he crosses the line again, there’s going to be a problem."

The call ended, and I sat frozen, heart pounding.