Page 21 of Obsession on Repeat (Vinyl Hearts #1)

It wasn’t some red carpet moment. It was a normal night at Euphoria.

The kind of night with a smaller crowd. Industry people, insiders, regulars who knew the club’s heartbeat by name.

The lights were low and the bass steady, the atmosphere electric in that effortless kind of way.

I was adjusting the tempo on the second set when I felt it, a subtle shift in the air.

I didn’t look over my shoulder, simply finishing my track before I stepped away from the table.

Asher was near the edge of the floor, in a fitted jacket and black tee, a drink in his hand. The second our eyes met, his mouth curved, an expression that shouted to the world, mine .

I walked straight into his space, placed my hand lightly on his chest, and stood on my toes to kiss him. There was nothing shy about the caress, nothing showing an uncertainty, but one that made a firm statement.

The room didn’t gasp. There weren’t camera flashes, only a hum of awareness. A few people exchanged knowing glances, and there was no mistaking Gina’s slow-clap from across the bar.

When I pulled away, he smiled down at me. "So we’re doing this?" he asked, low enough that it was only for me to hear.

I threaded my fingers through his. "Yeah, I think we are."

A photo of us went up within the hour, a candid that was blurry with low-light, obviously taken from someone’s phone in the crowd. It was already on at least three gossip accounts before I made it to the backroom.

The comments were a war zone.

@shay_loves_books: Asher was seen kissing Rory in the VIP section at Euphoria! they're together!?

@keiona.nicole86: Is this real life or a Wattpad AU?!

@charity.riddle1: finally. been shipping this since he showed up

@shayisbooked: she downgraded huh

@michaella.r3ads: she looks happy for once. y’all should chill

@ashley_reads_smut: ok but when is the collab dropping???

Gina peeked over my shoulder and gave a low whistle. "Fuck, you broke the internet."

I lowered the phone. "I didn’t mean to."

"Didn’t mean to fall for him either, did you?"

I rolled my eyes, not answering her, continuing to scroll the endless comments. I paused only when she shoved her phone into my face.

"Tell me you’ve seen this. It’s on his Instagram!"

I blinked at the screen, trying to make sense of what I was looking at. I looked at the photo of me and Sullivan, one I didn’t remember being taken. His arm was around my shoulders. my head tilted toward him. We looked… happy.

Underneath it, there was a caption.

Some people move on like it never mattered. I’m not built that way.

The comments below the image were already spiraling.

@glennyssduarte: we were rooting for you two :(

@jenthelibrarian_: that’s lowkey a guilt trip

@positivityb4negativity: boy please, she upgraded

@amymartineztriplebphotography: so desperate

Gina didn’t say anything for a long moment. "He’s not over you."

I shook my head. "That’s not what that is."

"It’s not?"

"That’s an attempt at control. He couldn’t be the one to walk away, so now he wants to be the one everyone pities."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you gonna respond?"

"I’m pretty sure I already did."

"Oh shit, incoming at two o’clock."

She scrambled off before I could question her, and I blinked in surprise as once again a phone was shoved into my face. I stared at it, then at Asher, eyes trailing his tight jaw, and how hard his eyes were as he peered down at me.

"Is this a fucking joke?"

"It’s Sullivan."

"I know it’s Sullivan," he snapped. "I didn’t think he’d be this much of a manipulative, little—" He ran a hand through his hair. "He posted that knowing exactly what he was doing. He wants sympathy. He wants to make you the villain for having the audacity to move on from him."

"I know."

"I want to punch him in the fucking face."

The words jolted me in their raw honesty. "You don’t need to."

"I know I don’t. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to." He exhaled sharply and shoved his phone into his pocket. "Are you okay?"

"I’m fine. I hate that he knows how to pull strings."

Asher stepped in close, his hands warm against my hips. "He only has power if you give it to him." He tugged me into his arms, and I went willingly. "I hate that he gets under your skin."

"I hate that I let him," I whispered. I looked up at him. "I didn’t think you’d be this mad."

"I’m not mad." He brushed his fingers along my jaw. "I’m furious, but not at you."

I grabbed his shirt. "I don’t want to think about him anymore."

"Then don’t."

He kissed me, and every single thought in my head went quiet.

The next morning, I was wrapped in one of his shirts, feet tucked beneath me on his couch, scrolling through my phone while he made breakfast barefoot in the kitchen.

Another headline dropped, another comment with an attempt to spin the story.

I stared down at my phone, unable to look away from the headline of the article.

Sullivan Masters Reportedly ‘Heartbroken’—Close Source Claims He Thought Rory Would Come Back.

Underneath it, a photo of me from last night in Asher’s arms. I stared at it for a long time, thumb hovering over the screen.

He appeared behind me, holding a cup of coffee. He caught the headline on my screen and let out a sharp breath. "You want me to throw your phone in the ocean?"

I accepted the coffee. "I don’t want the hassle of having to get a new phone."

He sat beside me, arm draped across the back of the couch. " What are you going to do?"

"Nothing."

His eyebrow lifted.

"I don’t owe anyone a statement. I don’t owe the internet closure. He can bleed for attention all he wants. I’m not interested in playing that game anymore."

Asher studied me for a second, then leaned in, kissed my temple. "I’m proud of you."

I looked over at him. "Thanks, it took me long enough."

"Guess I’ll keep making breakfast then."

"Guess you better."

He disappeared back into the kitchen, mumbling something about eggs.

I stayed on the couch, fingers idly tracing the lip of my coffee mug, the photo pulled up on my phone.

I stared at it one last time, then locked the screen and set it face down on the table.

Quietly, I padded into the kitchen quietly, watching him at the stove, shirtless, sweatpants hanging low on his hips, the morning sun cutting across the muscles in his back.

I leaned against the doorway. "You always cook shirtless? "

He glanced over his shoulder, smirking. "Only when I’m trying to impress someone."

"You’re doing a terrible job," I lied.

"Is that so?" He turned off the burner and crossed the kitchen slowly, the playful glint in his eyes shifting into something darker.

When he reached me, his hand found my waist, sliding beneath the hem of his shirt I was wearing.

"You're walking around looking that attractive and expect me to concentrate on eggs? "

I caught his bottom lip between my teeth. "I’m not hungry for eggs."

His mouth was on mine in an instant. His hands gripped my thighs, lifting me onto the counter, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, tugging him closer until there was nothing left between us.

His hands slid beneath the oversized shirt, fingertips tracing fire up my spine as he pushed the fabric higher, exposing skin inch by inch.

He broke the kiss. "Take it off."

I slipped the shirt over my head, and it hit the floor. His mouth found my neck, kissing a trail from my collarbone to the spot below my ear that made me shiver. I arched into him, fingers curling into his hair, tugging him closer, needing more.

He made a sound, low and desperate, against my skin, then lifted me easily, carrying me down the hall with my legs wrapped tight around his waist. I didn’t care where we were going. I just needed him.

We barely made it to the bed. Even as he laid me back as if I was fragile, there was nothing gentle about the kiss that followed.

He traced the line of my thigh with his palm, sliding his hand higher, watching my face as I gasped and tangled my fingers in the sheets.

His mouth followed, slow and purposeful, until I was trembling beneath him .

When he moved over me, I couldn’t shake the realization that hit me. I was his, and he was mine.