by Amity Cross
I froze. It was a simple enough statement, but the thought of following through terrified me. “And that’s why you’re still here, captaining a sinking ship,” Vanessa muttered, picking up the digital camera.
Tears pricked in my eyes and I sank into the chair behind the counter. Everything rushed at me and I began to crack under the pressure. My dwindling bank account, the declining sales, the depression that came with impending financial ruin—not to mention all the personal stuff I was shoving into the background.
“Oh, Juni... I’m sorry,” Vanessa cried, her expression falling. “I didn’t mean—”
“You’re right.” I dabbed my eyes with the cuff of my jumper. “The ship is sinking.”
“You’re a fighter, though. Don’t forget that.”
“Yeah...” But being a fighter didn’t pay the bills. I picked up the first book on the pile and leaned it against the exposed brick wall behind me. “Let’s throw out a few floaties, huh?”
Vanessa smiled and aimed the camera. “We’ll have the sexiest used books on the internet. People will be begging for more.”
I admired her enthusiasm, but as I glanced out the window at the empty street beyond, I couldn’t help but wonder was the end in sight for the Point Break Bookshop?
4
Sebastian
The Mariner’s Arms seemed nice enough on the outside.
It was a typical Australian pub with all the trimmings—bar, bistro, gaming machines, a TAB for all your small-town betting needs, and built-in playground because it was better to dump your kids on a plastic slide than leave them in the car outside.
I nursed my beer, the sound of pokie machines bleeping and ringing in the background. Above, the TV was tuned into some greyhound race on the other side of the state, while a group of weathered old men scratched their salty beards and picked at a bowl of peanuts. One guy cursed as his dog ran second to last, and I shifted so I was facing the bistro.
A group of guys were eating dinner and throwing back beers like there was no tomorrow.
“She’s always on my back about getting married,” one dude said. “You’re not getting any younger, she says.”
“I don’t want to get married,” another guy said. “Why get stuck with one pussy?”
“Yeah,” the third guy added. “There are too many birds out there waiting to be fucked.”
I snorted and downed half my beer. I’d ventured out for this? Slot machines and morons with small dicks? I was one to talk—I’d fucked with the best of them. A different hole for every night if I wanted. I’d used so many women, I didn’t even know where to start counting.
Looking at those guys, I saw myself—a womanizer, no-hoper, dirty, and downright stupid. Did I have a saving grace, because right now the hole was so deep I couldn’t see the top.
Thinking about Juniper, I downed another mouthful of beer as my cock twitched. I wasn’t here for a conquest. I shook my head, but it didn’t matter. She was firmly lodged in my brain and there was nothing I could do to shake her.
Glancing at the bistro again, I realised I didn’t belong here, either. Not with myself, not with those arseholes talking about easy pussy, and not where I’d come from.
“You know who I’d love to see wrapped around my cock?” the guy closest to my position said. “That sweet little Juniper Rowe.”
I tensed and tightened my grip on my glass, forgetting my shame spiral. Juniper Rowe.
“Man, she’d never let you anywhere near her pussy,” the marriage phobia guy declared.
“Wanna bet? Before summer rolls around, I’ll blow my load in her.” His arsehole friends started to laugh. “You don’t think I can do it?”
“No fucking way.”
“You’re screwed in the head, Robbo. You’ve got better odds sucking your own cock.”
Rage pooled in my gut as I zeroed in on Robbo and memorised his face—tallish, built, shit brown hair, sloppy jumper with a surf logo on it. Couldn’t be a day over twenty-five. If he kept talking about her like she was a thing to be abused, then he wouldn’t be looking like that for long.
“She’s into books and shit,” someone said.
“So?” Robbo asked. “Don’t need a book to find where to put my dick, arsehole.”
“She’s too good for you, man. She owns her own business. What do you do?”
“Shut up.”
Once, I would’ve followed that arsewipe Robbo outside, put my fist in his face, bloodied him up, and warned him off what was mine. Now, I just sat there knowing if I got into a fight, I’d be outed and my latest indiscretion would be splashed all over the tabloids. Missing rocker Sebastian Hale arrested for assault.
I stared at the beer in my hand and rubbed my thumb over the condensation on the outside of the glass. She likes books and owns her own business. There was a bookstore on the main street, wasn’t there?
“Let’s bet on it,” Robbo said. “I bag Juniper by the end of winter, or...”
“You have to eat your own cum,” one of his friends said. “A whole tub of it.”
I rolled my eyes and finished my beer. He’d be eating more than his own sperm before I was through with the guy because now he had competition. The spark when I first saw her on that fucking beach had caught me, and I couldn’t let it go. What if she was the fate I was looking for? She didn’t know me; I didn’t know her. Everything would be real, right?
I needed all of those things right about now.
First thing in the morning, I was finding Juniper Rowe.
My palms were itching. People always said it was a sign you were about to get lucky, and considering I was standing outside a shop called the Page Break Bookshop, I hoped it was a good fucking omen.
My heartbeat sped up and I glanced up and down the street like a fucking weirdo. I was nervous. Sebastian Hale, fucking rock star, was nervous over a girl. Pussy.
Pushing open the door, a bell rang above my head, and I stepped into a pocket of warm air. I unbuttoned my coat and glanced around, pausing when I saw a woman behind the counter glare at me. Her blonde hair was pulled away from her face, giving her a severe headmistress look, and something told me I was about to get a warm welcome.
She knew who I was. I could see it written all over her face and I hesitated. If she knew, then Juniper probably knew, which threw a wrench into my screwed up fantasy.
I sighed and ran my hand through my hair. “Do you work here?”
“Nope,” the woman declared, “I hang out here. There’s a difference.”
Great, another mouthy blonde. She reminded me of Vix, the balls to the wall road manager who rode with Beneath when we were out on tour. The same Vix I flipped off on my way out a week ago. This had to be karmic retribution.
I bit my tongue and glanced around the shop. Books lined every available space and the air had that musty used paper smell. She likes books... I was here now, so I may as well just go for it.
“I’m looking for Juniper,” I said.
“I’m Vanessa,” the woman said. “And Juniper isn’t here right now.”
“Is she coming back?”
She narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know. Is she?”
Like I said. Mouthy.
Movement under the counter drew my gaze downward and I grinned as Ziggy poked his head around the corner. Kneeling down, I held out my palm and the little dog bounded forward, his tail wagging behind him.
“Traitor,” Vanessa muttered as I scratched him behind the ears.
“Hey boy,” I murmured. “Been for any more swims?” His big brown eyes stared back at me and part of me wished I’d been born a dog rather than a human. Life seemed so uncomplicated when it was all about sleeping, eating, and bodysurfing.
Behind me, the door opened and I heard the bell ring. I looked over my shoulder and found Juniper staring at me and Ziggy, her mouth slightly agape.
I rose to my feet, my gaze raking over her body. She wasn’t wearing her coat today, and her tight knit jumper left little to the imagination. Her style seemed
my kind of cool—grey acid wash jeans, black lace-up boots, and a black jumper.
I swallowed hard and tried not to let my eyes linger too long on her breasts before meeting her gaze. Freckles dusted over her flushed cheeks, and her green eyes punctured right through my mask and into my soul—well, it felt like it anyway. It was like she was searching for something, but that made two of us.
Her cheeks were a sexy shade of red—crimson, scarlet, ruby—and a lazy smile crept onto my lips. She was attracted to me and the thought was electrifying. It wasn’t anything new, but this time it was different. I looked at Juniper and wanted to be with her, not in her for a limited time.
“Hey. Wanna go for a walk?” I asked, my gaze locked with hers.
“I, uh...”
Vanessa clucked her tongue and shoved her friend forward. “She’d love to.”
I rose my eyebrows at the blonde. One second she was roasting me, the next... Who knew.
“I’ll just grab my coat.” Juniper bit her bottom lip before turning to the rack and plucking a leather jacket from the hook at the back.
Ziggy yipped and danced back and forth, thinking he was about to get lucky.
“Ziggy, no,” Vanessa said, wrapping her fingers through his collar. “They need some alone time.”
Ignoring her, I held open the door for Juniper, my eyes firmly locked onto her every movement. She stepped past me, the breeze fluttering her hair and sending her sweet scent in my direction. She smelled like some kind of flower, mixed with the tangy hint of oranges.
Outside, we stood on the footpath and for the first time in my miserable fucking existence, I didn’t know what to do. Give me a guitar, a stage with thirty thousand people in front of it, and I was in my element. Put me in a small town with a beautiful woman, and I was undone.
When I didn’t move, she turned and shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, so let’s walk.”
She stepped out onto the road, not even checking for traffic, and walked towards the beach. I’d call her a thrill seeker, but I couldn’t remember if I’d ever seen a car drive past. Beyond the main street was a line of green, some scrappy shrubbery, then the open ocean. That’s where she was heading.
The wind was tearing up over the dune as we returned to the scene of our first meeting—albeit at the opposite end of the cove—and the moment my boots sunk into the sand, I felt this incredible sense of freedom.
Glancing at Juniper, I smiled.
5
Juniper
He was looking at me like I was something to eat.
Honestly, it was kind of terrifying. The metaphoric storm was swirling in my direction and I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve his attention. Had I somehow gained points for being the last person on Earth who knew who Beneath was? Vanessa seemed to think so.
“Maybe that’s why he came back to talk to you,” she’d said yesterday.
He hadn’t come back to talk to me. The Point was so small it was inevitable we’d cross paths. He hadn’t sought me out... until this morning. ‘Wanna go for a walk?’
I breathed in the salt air, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore only adding to the storm analogy. Everything was swirling—the surf, my head, my heart—and my internal compass was going haywire. Magnetic north was shifting to an unknown location.
Sebastian wasn’t talking. Glancing at him as we crossed the beach, I puzzled him out. I still didn’t know much about the guy or his band, or even what kind of music they played—unless you count when Vanessa told me it was a rock band—but his broody silent routine didn’t seem to fit. He was a singer, so I kinda assumed he’d be a cocky so and so with an axe to grind, but here he was all clammed up.
“Rock star, huh?” I blurted much to my embarrassment.
He smirked and began ambling down the beach, away from the town. The sand was wetter here and better to walk on, and wetter. Wetter. Ugh.
I squirmed and shoved my hands into the pockets of my jacket and fell into step beside him. The worn leather was soft to the touch, and smelt of polish and spice. It was a little too big for me, but like the bookshop was the last thing I had of Mum’s, this biker jacket was the last thing I owned of Dad’s.
“So you do know who I am,” Sebastian said after a while.
“Vanessa filled me in.” I shrugged, not sure why I was walking on a lonely beach with a millionaire bad boy rock star. Seemed like bad news to me, even with his fancy tailored coat.
“There goes my veil of anonymity,” he drawled.
“You don’t want people to know who you are?” I asked slightly confused.
“It’s a performance.” He didn’t offer any more of an explanation.
I raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t expecting that admission. It also seemed genuine, but I didn’t have any other point of reference.
“Does it bother you or something?”
“A little.” Another left of centre tidbit.
“So you’re saying there’s more to all that than sex, drugs, and rock ‘n’ roll?”
He laughed wryly and lowered his head.
“My dad used to say the same thing... ” I went on, “about the performance.”
“He’s a musician?”
“Yeah. Blues. Played trumpet.” I held up my hand, my index finger and little finger upright with my thumb resting against the two middle fingers. The universal sign for rock ‘n’ roll—the ‘horns.’
“Cool.” Sebastian laughed. “He still play?”
“Hard to play when you’re dead.”
He stopped and raked his hand through his tousled locks. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”
“Don’t worry about it.” I paused and scuffed the toe of my boot in the sand. “It was a long time ago.”
“Juniper...”
I looked up at him, but he’d closed off again, whatever he was going to say died in his throat before it ever reached his lips. On cue, my gaze lowered to his mouth. He could sing, huh? Sing and kiss, I bet.
“So you just want some peace and quiet, huh?” I asked, watching him closely.
“Something like that.”
“Cool.”
He frowned. “That’s it?”
“Yeah.” I made a face and started walking again. “It’s your life.”
He was beside me again, his presence infiltrating all my senses. “Ever wake up one day and realise you’ve taken the wrong path?”
I thought about my parents, and how things were in the wake of their deaths. The bookshop, my mum’s declining health and sudden passing, my isolation, all of it.
“I suppose,” I replied. “But I didn’t choose the path I’m on.”
A wave zoomed up the beach and I dodged to the side, weaving past Sebastian to avoid it. He didn’t move. Instead, he just let the water splash over his boots.
“Is this what we’re going to do?” I asked, watching the wave recede into the ocean.
“What?” He blinked, the dazed and confused look not suiting him at all. I tried to imagine him up on a stage, a guitar in his hands, but couldn’t place him.
“Go for long walks on the beach?” A grin spread across my face and I laughed, scraping my hair away from my face. “Long walks on the beach with a rock star? Yeah right.”
Sebastian looked bewildered for a moment before he let out a laugh of his own. “When you put it like that, it does sound kinda mental.”
“Kinda?” I kicked at a pile of seaweed.
“Okay, real fucking stupid.”
“So why am I here? Why not just walk on the beach yourself? Where’s your bandmates? Your friends? Your family? Why aren’t they here?”
He froze and I immediately cursed under my breath. Great going, Juniper. Go straight in with the hard questions. He’s a guy who probably had his life raked over the hot coals known as ‘the media’ twenty-four-seven, and here you are playing good cop, bad cop.
“Okay, here goes. You asked for it.” He turned to gaze at me with those stormy eyes of his. “I think you’re gorgeous and kinda
awesome. You don’t care who I am and fuck, I like it. That’s why I’m here with you.”
I tilted my head to the side and tried to calm my galloping heart. He thought I was gorgeous? He was hot as sin and he thought... Oh fuck, I was in trouble. Who the hell was this guy?
“Cool.” I shrugged.
“Cool?” he scoffed. “That’s all I get?”
“Why? Are you used to groupies falling to their knees for you or something?” I gasped and slapped my hand over my mouth. “I didn’t mean for that to come out.”
He laughed and wiped at his eyes. “Oh, fuck.”
Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. There he was, in all his manly glory, all sex and rock ‘n’ roll, and he was so easy to talk to, and... it just came out.
I pressed my palms against my flaming cheeks and moaned.
“Oh hell,” he said, shaking his head. “Where did you come from, Juniper Rowe?”
I didn’t know what to say to that. I was too caught up in the storm brewing inside my heart. The storm named Sebastian Hale. I just hoped I didn’t capsize.
Sinking down onto the sand, I tilted my head away, hiding the rising colour in my cheeks. He sat beside me, close enough that his body shielded me from the wind, but far enough away that he didn’t touch me.
“So how did you find me anyway?” I asked, trying to take my mind off the sexual buzz in the air. “Should I be worried?”
His eyebrows rose. “You’re asking me this now?”
“I can take care of myself,” I boasted. “I’ve been doing it a long time.”
“Uh...”
“It’s creepy, isn’t it?” I moaned.
“Not exactly.”
“How does that work?” I turned to face him, waiting for an explanation. “There is no partially creepy. Just full or empty.”
“Full or empty?”
“Yeah. So which is it?”
Sebastian hooked his arms around his knees and stared out over the water. “I heard some douchebags talking about you at the pub.”
My smile faded and I shook my head. Typical. What rumour was doing the rounds this time? Dad, Mum, their poor daughter, or my frigid, lonely existence? “I bet they were,” I muttered.