Arrows & Anchors (SAMPLE)

Chapter 1: Rush

The sigh of relief spilling through my parted lips only amplified when I found one open parking spot, toward the very back of the lot. It would have been a challenge to run the distance from our vehicle, to the arena doors, in heels. So, I silently relished in my decision to instead opt for flat-heeled shoes.

Laina, on the other hand, would have to work some magic in those monstrous, three-inch concoctions beneath her ankles.

In a heartbeat, I turned off the ignition and ran a nervous set of fingers through my hair that had required more than an hour to style, and just two minutes to ruin while in the vehicle. Currents of static seemed to be shooting through each vein of my body.

I just wanted to get inside, and immediately.

For a moment, Laina remained in her seat to utilize the visor mirror. Upon her pouted lips, Laina applied a fresh layer of coral-tinted gloss, and folded her lips in on themselves, to evenly blend the sticky-looking substance.

"Don't forget the tickets!" Laina half-demanded, half-begged. As she spoke, the gloss seemed to form tiny, pink strings between her lips. At her immediate recognition of this, Laina sighed and began dotting at her mouth with a spare napkin she found promptly in my glove compartment.

From my small purse, I pulled the concert tickets out—the ones I had safely kept for months, since Laina did not trust herself to not lose them somehow—and gripped them tightly. Just as I was about to tell Laina to hurry up, I heard a small gasp escape her bare lips. To find a clue of what had happened, I looked around... seeing nothing at first.

Toward Laina, I looked again, seeking her source of shock. The path of her open-mouthed stare, I followed, until I found it for myself. Not very far behind us was a parked tour bus, and just outside of it was Julian Miles, having a cigarette.

In the dark of night, his face was barely lit—in a muted manner—by the burning, vermilion end of the stick that was pressed between his lips. Before I could even attempt to read the severe expression on Julian's face—or find the source of my insanity for believing he was watching us at all—Laina rushed to my side.

Her fingers—cold to the touch, despite the compelling dry heat which surrounded us—were gripping onto my forearm for dear life. Laina's speech, however, was momentarily halted by a nearby stirring. With the sound of compressed air escaping, the tour bus door opened, and Mason Everett stepped off to join Julian.

Although the frantic state of her was apparent from the shakiness in her soprano voice, Laina was able to regain enough sense and composure to speak directly into my ear. 

"Oh my God, what do we do?!" she breathlessly asked.

On my nervous feet, I shifted my weight. Thinking.

"Did you bring anything?" I asked her, far more calmly. "Markers? Anything to be signed?"

Desperately, Laina looked around, before exclaiming in would-be expletives. "Damn it! Fu—"

"Now, now. That language isn't very nice," I heard a familiar voice interrupt. It was somewhat deep, husky, accented, and could only belong to...

"Mason Everett," he said while approaching, and extending his hand to shake ours. "You ladies are quite late. Not a fan of Secrets and Shallows? You're missing some good stuff."

Mason's impressively long, brown curls loosely draped the sides of his neck and cheeks, as the corners of his mouth turned up slightly. Furtively, I noted how impeccable Mason looked, in black skinny jeans and a blue-checkered button-up, left open to reveal a clean, white t-shirt beneath. Even in person, he epitomized the aura of a rockstar, but this did not surprise me much. What did, however, was his height—Mason was barely an inch taller than myself.