Page 25 of Obsession on Repeat (Vinyl Hearts #1)

Epilogue

Sunlight spilled across the hardwood floors, catching on the scattered vinyl records and unpacked boxes labeled my stuff; though most of it had blurred into ours already.

I sat cross-legged on the floor of the living room, headphones half on, one ear tuned to the mix I was tweaking on my laptop. The other ear was tuned to Asher, who was in the kitchen attempting to figure out how our fancy new espresso machine worked.

"It’s hissing," he called out. "Is it supposed to hiss?"

"If it starts talking, then you should panic."

He laughed, a warm sound that floated in the air, and that sound hit me like the drop in my favorite set, unexpected and addictive. He walked into the room a minute later, coffee in one hand, a bagel in the other, barefoot and shirtless with his hair a mess and his smile lazy. "You’re staring."

"I’m allowed."

Handing me the mug, he leaned down to kiss the top of my head, then plopped onto the couch beside me, legs stretched long, arm draped behind me. His fingers found the ends of my hair, toying with them absently as I brought the mug to my lips.

The coffee was perfect. "You finally mastered the machine."

"I only sacrificed one button and mild emotional damage."

I leaned into his side. His body heat soaked into mine. I could hear his heartbeat where my cheek rested near his chest, steady and grounding. On the floor, my laptop screen dimmed, the half-finished track paused mid-layer. I didn’t move.

His hand moved from my hair to my back, tracing slow circles he didn’t realize he was doing. “So, are you starting to feel at home?”

I looked around at the cluttered room, the records on every surface, wires snaking across the floor, laundry we’d been ignoring for two days.

"No."

His brows lifted. "Not yet? "

I turned to face him fully, shifting so I could slide into his lap, knees bracketing his hips. His hands immediately found my waist.

"Because it already does."

"You know you wreck me when you say things like that, right?"

I brushed my nose against his, lips inches apart. "Yeah, but I love putting you back together."

Asher pulled me closer, our foreheads touching, and for a long moment, we didn’t need anything else. No audience. No spotlight. No music. There was only us, and maybe that was the point.

It was pure obsession, not as a mistake, but a choice we kept making, choosing each other on repeat.