Page 21 of Obsession on Repeat
"Is this you?"
My gaze drifted to the magazine in her hand. "I don’t think so." I turned my attention back to the line, moving forward as another person was served.
"This is you! You’re dating Sullivan Masters! What’s he like? Is he as sweet as everyone says? I bet you’re having sex. I can’t say I blame you."
I turned quickly to glare at her. "Is that the kind of thing you usually ask a random stranger?"
"You’re not a random stranger." She shook the magazine at me. "You’re dating Sullivan Masters."
"That’s a trash magazine."
"Honey, if the story is false, these pictures say all we need to know. I know I certainly don’t kiss my good friends that way."
"I’m surprised you have any friends." I stepped up to the counter. "Can I get a tall vanilla latte and a venti caramel macchiato, please?"
"Aw, you’re getting his favorite drink; that’s so cute."
"Lady, if you don’t leave me alone, you’re going to be wearing it."
"Well, don’t you have a nasty attitude?"
Turning to the counter, I handed the cashier my debit card. "Yeah, it matches your face," I muttered. I nodded my thanks as the cashier gave me back my card. Ignoring anything else the woman had to say, I shifted to the side to wait, and as if sensing my frustration, I didn’t have to wait long until my order was ready.
Holding the drinks, I went backwards out of the door. A flash of lights went off.
"Rory! Over here!"
I turned too fast, flinching instinctively. There were two of them; paparazzi, clearly not local. One had a camera already raised, the other holding a phone filming me.
"Are you and Sullivan living together now?"
"Is this the real thing or a summer fling?"
I stepped past them, jaw clenched, walking fast. One of them tried to keep up, calling after me.
"Rory, come on! We want your side of the story!"
I stopped short and turned around to face them. "You don’t have my side of the story, and you won’t get it standing outside a Starbucks with a lens shoved in my face. He’s not here, so why don’t you guys find someone else to pester?"
"Is the tall coffee his?"
"They’re both mine. I’m thirsty."
The photographer laughed, another series of flashes went off.
"Seriously, stop it. I doubt magazines want my picture; they won’t sell without him in them."
"Thanks for looking out for us, but we know how to do our jobs." The same man spoke up again, his shutter clicking. "Obviously you don’t own a mirror, gorgeous. These will sell, trust me."
"Whatever." I headed down the sidewalk, mindful they were following me at a short distance.
It was by some miracle I was able to get into my car without spilling the coffees or tossing them. I let out a sigh of relief when I finally pulled into traffic. Weaving in and out in case others were following, I managed to make it back to my apartment in record time.
Sullivan greeted me at the door with a smile, but it quickly turned into a frown at the look on my face. "What’s wrong?" He shut the door and took his drink that I extended to him. "Did something happen?"
"If you call being asked personal questions and having my picture taken as something happening, then yeah." I turned around on my heel. "This woman, this random stranger, asked me all these questions about you and made a comment about our sex life…" I threw my hands up. "You are so lucky I’m not a jealous person because she would be wearing my latte right now!"
He smirked from over the rim of his cup.
