Page 55 of Obsession on Repeat
I stared down into my coffee, watching the swirl of cream fade. "I don’t have anything to move. I don’t own a vehicle, I always used Sullivan’s. That’s next on the list."
"Take the night off."
"I couldn’t do that to you guys," I shook my head. "Gina’s talented in a lot of ways, but she’s a terrible DJ."
He chuckled, his shoulder brushing mine. I didn’t move. "You’re allowed to take time off, you know."
"I’m not used to people giving me permission."
He gave me a half smile. "Then get used to it."
I looked at him, really looked at him, at his quiet confidence, the way he never pushed. I wanted to say thank you. I didn’t.
Sighing, I slid off the stage. "I need to get going."
He said nothing, and I walked quickly up the stairs to the break room. A row of computers lined the back wall, set up for employees who needed pay statements, managetheir PTO, or watch mind-numbing state-mandated training videos.
Minutes later, I was cursing under my breath as the printer jammed again. On the floor, one leg folded under me, I tried to pry a rogue page free without tearing it in half.
"You know," Asher’s voice came from the doorway, "I think this place is actively trying to ruin your life."
I didn’t look up. "If I die here, make sure they play a remix of my last set at the funeral."
He laughed as he approached me. "Need backup?"
"Only if you’re trained in printer CPR."
He crouched beside me, close enough that I felt the warmth of him along my arm. "Let me."
"You’re not going to fix it," I warned, sitting back slightly as he took over.
"Confidence, Rory. Confidence."
The silence stretched as we knelt there, shoulders brushing, breathing the same dusty air and the faint scent of printer ink and cologne. I shifted slightly, the small space growing smaller.
"This is kind of cozy," I muttered, voice too light to be casual.
He looked at me, eyes steady, unreadable. "Yeah, it is."
His hand was inside the printer, but his body had shifted toward mine. Our legs were pressed side by side now, warmth bleeding through denim. My hand rested besidehis on the floor, fingers curled tight to stop myself from doing something stupid.
I looked at his mouth, then I looked away.
Asher pulled the paper free with one clean tug. "Mission accomplished." He stood, offering his hand. I hesitated a beat too long before taking it. He pulled me up and didn’t let go right away. His hand lingered in mine.
"Um, thanks."
He lifted his hand slowly, deliberately, and reached for a loose curl that had fallen over my cheek. He brushed it back behind my ear, fingers trailing across my skin. My breath hitched. His hand dropped, but his gaze stayed locked on mine.
"I should try to print those forms again," I whispered.
Neither of us moved. His eyes dropped to my mouth. "Probably."
I withdrew my hand from his and took a step back, turning to face the computer.
He exhaled through his nose. "Rory." I stopped, back turned. "Tell me I’m not imagining this."
My breath caught. I wanted to turn around and say something bold. I remained where I was, staring at the computer screen in silence, afraid to look anywhere else.
