Page 61 of Obsession on Repeat
"This." I gestured vaguely. "Being a headline. Having something real turned into a punchline or a poll."
Asher approached the table slowly. "It’s not a punchline to me."
"That’s not the part I’m worried about."
"I know."
"I don’t want this to become something you regret," I said, barely above a whisper.
His jaw tensed. He closed the space between us. I kept my eyes on him as he lowered himself into a chair beside me at the table, taking my hand in his. "I don’t regret a single second of you."
"I need time to figure this out."
He brushed his fingers against mine. "You've got it."
"I need to do something."
"Okay." He didn’t question me. He merely pressed his lips against my hand before releasing me, and he rose to his feet. "If you need me, you know where to find me."
I nodded, and after he left, I continued to sit there, staring at my phone. With a shaky hand, I retrieved it from the table. I scrolled to Sullivan’s name and paused. I pressed it.
It rang three times when suddenly the line clicked.
"Rory?"
His voice felt too casual, as if I hadn’t ripped us in half just weeks ago.
"There’s an article about me."
He paused. "Which one? You’ve been making a lot of headlines lately. You’ve had quite the rebound."
I exhaled through my nose. "Is that why you didn’t call to check on me? You were waiting for your ego to feel better?"
There was another pause on his side. "Don’t pretend that I didn’t try. You agreed to walk away."
"No, I’m the one who stopped apologizing for needing more."
His voice shifted, smooth but edged. "So this thing with Asher? That’s more?"
"I wanted you to hear it from me before someone else spun it into a lie. I don’t know exactly what is happening with him, but it’s happening on my terms. Regardless of how we ended things, I don’t want you to think I’m doing it to hurt you."
"Okay."
That was all he said. There was no fight, no apology for the past or regret about where we had finally ended. All he offered was one last breath of something that used to be everything.
"I hope he knows what he’s getting."
He hung up before I could ask what he meant.
Music pulsed softly over the speakers, more ambiance than beat. Chairs stacked, lights low, the kind of hush that only came aftereveryone else had left.
I slipped back in the booth, half-expecting Asher to be gone. He wasn’t. He sat on the stage steps, elbows on his knees, phone in his hands but not really looking at it. His head lifted the second I stepped into view. When our eyes met, he didn’t smile. I couldn’t find the strength to either, and I lowered myself beside him on the steps. Without a word, he handed me a water bottle. It was half-drunk, probably his, but I took it anyway.
After a long moment, he leaned back on his palms, stretching out his legs. "You okay?" he asked, not looking at me.
"No, but I’m getting there."
He nodded, understanding exactly what I meant. "Did you call him?"
