Page 4 of Obsession on Repeat (Vinyl Hearts #1)

"Did you have a good time?"

I looked away from the passing scenery outside the car window. "I did, thank you. Where are we going?"

"I thought we’d go to the beach." He flipped on his blinker to change lanes. "I brought some dessert we can share."

A thousand thoughts went through my head at that moment, none of them kid friendly. "I didn’t see you put any food in the car."

"I can be sneaky when my sister helps me."

"From the stories I heard at lunch, I believe you."

Chuckling, he took the exit that directed us toward the beach.

The radio was the only thing that made sound during the rest of the ride, and I breathed in relief when I spotted the crashing waves.

I slipped out of the car as he opened the trunk, pulling out a small cooler and a blanket.

I thread my fingers through his, and he pulled me toward the sand.

It wasn’t crowded, the beach was scattered with people, but none of them seemed to notice us, content to play in the surf and the sand.

Sullivan spread out the blanket, and I sat, watching him pull out a small, covered bowl and two forks from the cooler. My eyes widened at the sight of the fresh fruit inside topped with nuts and whip cream. "I certainly wasn’t expecting this."

"Good." Grabbing a fork, he stabbed a strawberry, dipping it into the cream before he lifted it to my mouth. "Wrap your lips around this."

Smiling, I opened my mouth, my eyes glued to his. I chewed on the fruit, moaning in satisfaction. "That is so good." I frowned as he stuck the fork in his mouth. "Hey."

"You missed some!"

I rolled my eyes, dipping my finger into the cream. I leaned toward him to spread a small amount of it on the corner of his mouth. "You did, too."

"I don’t think I can reach it."

"That’s too bad." I extracted a napkin from the cooler. "Here."

Accepting the napkin, he cleaned the cream off of his face. He cleared his throat, stabbing another strawberry with the fork. "Want some more? "

"Yes, please." Opening my mouth, I blinked when he completely missed my mouth and smeared the cream against my face. "Hey, not funny." I reached for the napkin.

"I’ll get it."

Sullivan leaned forward, stopping at the last minute to toss the napkin on the blanket. Instead, he grabbed my chin with his fingers. His tongue licked my skin, and when he pulled away, he wore a satisfied look on his face.

A tight breath hitched in my throat. "I think you got it." I reached for the fork, sliding what was left of the fruit into my mouth. I handed him the fork. "You’re a tease."

He acted shocked, going as far to place a hand on his chest. "You can’t be talking to me."

"You’re the only Sullivan I know." I bit my bottom lip, watching him stab a raspberry with the fork. "What’s your full name?"

He concentrated on dipping fruit into the whip cream. "Sullivan Carl Masters the Second."

"Wow, that’s pretty lengthy."

"Tell me about it. What about you?"

"Nothing so grand, I’m afraid. I’m Lorelai Marie Jones."

"It’s a beautiful name, it suits you."

I blushed despite myself. "Are you going to serve me that raspberry, or play with it all day?"

Smiling, he lifted the fork, sliding it into his own mouth. "You mean that raspberry? "

"I can’t believe you did that! How rude!

" I reached for the fork when he stopped me, his hand wrapping around my wrist. "What are—" He pulled me forward, and with a gasp, I grabbed his shoulder to steady myself.

He pressed his lips against mine. I fell into him, knocking us onto the sand.

I was drowning in him, aroused when he let his tongue slip out to clean my lips, before diving deeper into my mouth.

Sullivan pulled away with a groan, his lips hovering near mine. "Rory, we’re in public."

"Uh huh." I traced his jaw, every inch of him so close.

"We should stop."

"Why? Who’s watching?"

He released me, and I sat back up. "There’s always someone watching." He watched me brush the sand from my clothes. "You look perfect."

"Stop that."

"Why? I enjoy complimenting you."

"That’s dangerous talk."

He propped himself on his elbow. "Am I not supposed to enjoy myself with you?"

"Enjoying something makes it harder to walk away from it."

His smile faltered enough for me to catch it. "Are you already planning your exit? "

"I always plan my exit. It’s the only way I know how to breathe." I could feel the shift in him, the way his easy charm sharpened into something more serious.

"You ever think that maybe running away isn’t strength? Maybe it’s fear dressed up as freedom?"

"Spare me the inspirational soundbites," I rolled my eyes. "I’ve heard them before."

"And yet here you are, eating strawberries and letting me look at you like you hung the damn stars."

I scoffed, but the sound wobbled. "You’re good at making it sound as if this matters."

"It does matter, Rory."

"Why? Because we kissed in a club? Because I’m the first girl to challenge you?"

"Because when I’m with you, I don’t have to pretend. I don’t have to be the version of me they put in magazines." His hand brushed my wrist, deliberate but gentle. "Tell me you don’t feel it too," he murmured, "and I’ll stop."

I looked away, toward the waves, the sky, anything but him. A little boy was burying his father’s hand in the sand a few feet away, their laughter soft under the breeze. "I didn’t realize it was getting so late."

His touch shifted, but he didn’t press the subject. "Well, look on the bright side. Tomorrow’s your day off."

I nodded, fingers tracing slow patterns in the sand. "Yeah, I plan on sleeping until the sun gives up. "

"Good for you. You deserve a break." He watched me climb to my feet. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Not at all." I flashed him a small smile. "I really need to head to work to start setting up."

"Sure, whatever you want." Sullivan stood and leaned in to kiss me.

I kissed him back. My hands slid into his hair, his grip tightening around my waist.

Click.

We both froze.

A second click followed. I turned, pulse stuttering in my throat. He stiffened beside me, his hands slipping away as his eyes scanned the beach. Half-hidden behind a dune, a man stood with a camera, lens raised, posture unmistakable. Another shutter snapped.

He swore under his breath. "They must have followed us."

It was the kind of reaction that alerted me this wasn’t new to him. But it was new to me. All I could do was stare. Throat tight, I tried to distract myself by brushing sand from my jeans. "It’s fine."

"It’s not fine, Rory. We’ll handle it."

"We?" I exhaled hard through my nose. "You’ll be back in LA in two weeks with your PR team spinning the whole thing into a late-night talk show anecdote, and I’ll just be the girl who got played by a famous actor."

"That’s not fair—"

"Isn’t it? You’ll disappear behind a gate in the Hills. I’ll be here, fielding phone calls from people who suddenly remember my name."

He took a step toward me. "I didn’t ask for that camera to show up."

"No, but you brought me into your world without thinking about the consequences."

"I brought you into my life, Rory. There’s a difference."

I crossed my arms, the wind catching strands of my hair. "You say all the right things. You show up, you make me feel like I matter, and maybe you mean it. But you’ll leave. That’s what people like you do."

He looked at me for a long moment, it seemed he was trying to figure out how much of me had already been damaged before he ever arrived. "I’m not trying to hurt you."

"Then stop acting like you won’t."

We stood in silence, the ocean roaring behind us, the world feeling a little too big and a little too exposed.

He didn’t try to touch me again. "Okay."

I walked away, the taste of his kiss burning on my lips, and the sound of the camera shutter ringing in my ears.

My alarm shrieked at 9:30. I smacked it and rolled over with a groan. I stretched, letting the sheets tangle around me before I finally opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling.

First thought: Sullivan.

Second: coffee.

I frowned. He hadn’t shown up at the club last night. He dropped me off at my apartment… and vanished. No text. No call. No message through Alice. It shouldn’t have bothered me, but it did. He was too close, and then suddenly, too far.

Yawning, I shuffled into the kitchen in black shorts and a tank, letting the hum of the coffee maker fill the silence.

A few minutes later, I settled on the couch, mug in hand, scrolling through the usual half-dead morning channels.

I should’ve been asleep. Venom didn’t close until three, but I’d stayed later than I needed to, long after my set, long after Alice told me to go home, because some pathetic part of me thought he might show up.

He didn’t .

Sighing, I clicked off the TV and tossed the remote onto the coffee table. "I’m an idiot," I muttered. The apartment didn’t argue.

I sat there for a minute longer, then pushed up from the couch. In the bedroom, I changed into exercise pants and pulled a jacket over my sports bra. Running always helped. It didn’t solve anything, but at least the pavement didn’t ask questions.