Page 48 of Star Rucked Lovers

They ate slowly, talking and laughing between bites, sharing plates. It was a small restaurant with a little outside courtyard, and after a while it was just the two of them sitting there, alone in the quiet.

Myst leaned back in her chair and looked up at the skyscrapers towering into the night sky. “Do you ever think about how small we are?” she murmured, her voice almost wistful. “Like, here… none of the noise matters. Not the cameras, or the schedules, or… anything. It’s just us.”

“Yeah,” George said, his gaze fixed on her instead of the sky. “I think about it all the time.”

She turned to him, her expression shifting slightly. “But then the noise always comes back, doesn’t it?” Her words hung in the air for a moment, heavy despite the gentle way she’d spoken them.

“Hey,” George said, leaning forward and resting a hand on her knee. “What’s going on?”

Myst hesitated, biting her lip before finally letting the words spill out. “Sometimes it feels like my life’s being pulled in a hundred different directions. The tour, the album, interviews, appearances… I love what I do, George. I really do. But then I think about you, and us, and...” She stopped, exhaling sharply. “I don’t want to lose you because I can’t figure out how to balance it all.”

“Hey.” His hand slid from her knee to clasp her smaller one, his thumb brushing soothing circles against her skin. “You’re not gonna lose me, alright? We’ve got our own crazy lives, sure. But if we want this to work, we’ll figure it out. I’m not looking for perfect, Myst. I’m only looking foryou.”

Her pale eyes shimmered, catching the glow of the lanterns. “You make it sound so simple.”

“Doesn’t mean it will be,” he admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “But I reckon we’re worth the effort.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Myst tilted her head, her lips curving into that familiar, mischievous grin. “You’re annoyingly good at saying the right thing, you know that?”

“Don’t get used to it,” George quipped, though his grin softened into something more earnest. “Seriously, though. I’m in this, Myst. All the way.”

She nodded, squeezing his hand before letting out a soft laugh. “Okay, but there’s something I need to talk to you about.” She looked serious.

“Yeah? What’s that?”

“Dealing with all the media drama once they find out about us. I’m getting tired of hiding and it’s going to come out sooner or later, and then there’ll be a feeding frenzy, paparazzi trying to get snaps of us together...”

“Then let’s stop hiding,” George said simply.

Myst blinked, caught off guard. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, let’s take control of the narrative. Go public on our terms, not theirs. If we walk into your afterparty together hand-in-hand, they’ve got nothing left to speculate about, right? You called it on your Instagram post, let’s go a step further and show my face this time. Let them take all the pictures they want.”

“That’s… bold,” she said, her brows drawing together as she considered it. “Are you sure you’re ready for that kind of attention?”

“Doesn’t matter if I am,” George replied steadily. “What matters is whetherweare. And I think we are.”

Myst hesitated, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip again. But then she smiled, a little hesitant, but genuine. “Alright, Captain. Let’s give them something to talk about.”

The cameras flashed the moment they stepped through the towering double doors of the afterparty venue. George blinked against the sudden onslaught of light, his grip tightening slightly around Myst’s hand. She felt it and gave him a reassuring squeeze, her pale blue eyes flicking up to meet his with a soft smile that seemed to say, “We’ve got this.”

The room was a swirl of decadence, rich golds and deep blues draped every available surface, shimmering under chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a palace. Industry elites mingled with local royalty, their laughter floating above the low thrum of Myst’s music playing in the background.

Myst, wearing a sleek sapphire gown that hugged her delicate frame just so, was radiant under the spotlight. George couldn’t help but glance at her again, struck by how effortlessly she carried herself here, as though this glittering world was built for her.

“Smile,” she whispered, leaning close enough that her words tickled his ear. “You look like you’re about to tackle someone.”

“Force of habit,” he muttered back, lips twitching into a grin despite himself. He shifted his broad shoulders, trying to relax, but the tailored navy suit felt like armour, rigid and unyielding.

They moved further into the room, hand-in-hand, and George noticed the subtle shift in the crowd’s energy. Heads turned; whispers flitted from one corner to another. A few phones discreetly (and not-so-discreetly) angled toward them, but Myst didn’t falter. Instead, she straightened her posture, her smile widening as if to say, “Look all you want, I’m not hiding anymore.” George admired her for it, that quiet defiance wrapped in grace.

“Over here, Myst!” A reporter swooped in, camera extended like a weapon. “Can we get a quick word? Is this your boyfriend, the guy from your Instagram photo?”

George opened his mouth, unsure of what to say, but Myst beat him to it.

“Yes” She paused, her smile turning softer, more personal, as she glanced up at him. “We’re together.”

George pasted on a smile as the cameras started flashing, and they stood patiently for several minutes, looking at every camera in turn as the reporters called Myst’s name.

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