Page 19 of Star Rucked Lovers

But George didn’t look convinced. She could see the faint crease forming between his brows, and it made her heart sink. She hated keeping things from him, but how was she supposed to explain the impossible tightrope she walked every day between authenticity and image?

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice measured. But there was a shift in his tone, subtle but unmistakable. Less playful, more reserved. It stung in a way Myst hadn’t expected, sharper than any critique or headline she’d ever faced.

They sat in silence for a beat too long, the earlier warmth between them fraying at the edges. Myst reached down to fiddle with the strap of her bag, wishing she could rewind a few minutes and leave the phone untouched.

“Look,” she started, her voice softer now. “It’s just… work stuff. You know how it is. People have certain expectations, and sometimes I have to play along. But it doesn’t mean anything.”

“Doesn’t it?” George asked quietly. His gaze was steady, but there was something vulnerable beneath it, a flicker of doubt she wasn’t used to seeing in him. “I get that your career’s a big deal. And I’m not saying it shouldn’t be. But… sometimes it feels like there’s always going to be something more important than us.”

“That’s not true,” Myst said quickly, shaking her head. She reached for his hand, her smaller fingers curling around his. “George, you’re important to me. This,” she gestured between them, “is important.”

“Is it?” he pressed gently, though his grip on her hand was firm. “Because I’m not sure your world thinks so.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but the words wouldn’t come. Not because she didn’t believe what she wanted to say, but because she couldn’t ignore the nagging truth in his question. Her world, the relentless machine of fame, didn’t leave much room for anything else. And as much as she despised it, she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t real.

“George…” she began, her voice barely above a whisper. But before she could find the right words, he let out a breath and gave her hand a quick squeeze.

“Forget it,” he said, forcing a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’ve had a good day. Let’s not ruin it.”

Myst nodded, though the knot in her chest only tightened. They sat there, side by side, watching the river flow by as the sun dipped lower in the sky. The air between them wasn’t heavy exactly, but it wasn’t light anymore either. And for the first time all day, Myst felt the weight of the distance between their worlds pressing down on her shoulders.

The gentle hum of the elevator was almost hypnotic as Myst leaned against George’s shoulder, his arm casually draped around her. The day had worn them out in the best way possible. She could still taste the salt from the fish and chips on her lips and hear his laughter as she’d fumbled a rugby term. “Scrum” still sounded like something out of a pirate novel to her.

“Bet you didn’t think your tour guide skills would be this bad, huh?” she teased, nudging him with her elbow.

“Bad? They were abysmal,” George shot back with a grin. “I reckon those Crown Jewels are still shaking from the nonsense you spouted about them.”

“Hey! I said they wereprobablycursed. That’s valid speculation.”

“Sure it is,” he drawled, voice dripping with sarcasm, though his smile softened the jab.

The doors dinged open, and they stepped into the plush hallway leading to her suite. Myst fiddled with the keycard in her hand, trying to push away the creeping dread that had been threatening to resurface since that call earlier. This was supposed to be their escape, wasn’t it? A stolen day in London where she wasn’t Myst, international pop star, but just a woman enjoying time with a man who made her laugh until her stomach hurt.

“How much do you wanna bet Jessie’ll be waiting for us?” Myst joked lightly, though her heart wasn’t quite in it.

“Wouldn’t put it past her,” George replied. His tone was light, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression, concern, or maybe weariness. Myst couldn’t tell anymore.

As soon as the door swung open, her cousin’s unmistakable figure was revealed, pacing the living room rug like a coiled spring. Jessie’s pixie-cut hair with its signature blue streak caught the dim lighting, and she stopped mid-step when she saw them.

“Well, speak of the devil,” Myst muttered under her breath, plastering on a smile. “Jess, you’ve got impeccable timing as always.”

“Don’t start with me,” Jessie shot back, her voice clipped. Her phone was clutched tightly in one hand, and the look on her face set off alarm bells in Myst’s chest. “We need to talk. Now.”

“Hello to you too,” Myst deadpanned, shrugging out of her coat and tossing it onto the couch. She glanced at George, who gave her a questioning look, but she tilted her head toward the bedroom door, a silent signal for privacy.

“Give me a minute?” she asked softly.

“Yeah, sure.” George hesitated, then stuffed his hands into his pockets and wandered toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. He didn’t press, but she felt the weight of his gaze on her back as she followed Jessie into the adjoining room.

“Okay, what’s the crisis this time?” Myst asked, crossing her arms as Jessie practically shoved the phone into her face.

“Look at this,” Jessie snapped. The screen displayed a glaring headline from CelebNation: “Pop Princess Myst Spotted with Mystery Man—Her Bit of Rough?“ Below it was a gallery of photos, clearly taken without their knowledge. One showed George laughing mid-bite of fish and chips, another captured Myst leaning into him on the bench by the river. They looked… happy. Which only seemed to make the headline sting more.

“Are you kidding me?” Myst groaned, pushing the phone away like it physically burned her. “They’re making it sound like he’s some… random fling or something.”

“That’s exactly my point!” Jessie hissed, lowering her voice but not her intensity. “This is already everywhere. By tomorrow, every outlet will be running with it, spinning God-knows-what stories about you two. And if you keep parading around like this…” She trailed off, gesturing vaguely but urgently, “It’s just going to get worse.”

“Parading around?” Myst repeated, her voice rising before she reeled herself back in. She pinched the bridge of her nose, willing herself to stay calm. “We were literally having lunch, Jess. It’s not like we announced an engagement.”

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