Page 46 of Star Rucked Lovers

She felt like home, George realised with a sudden, blinding flash of clarity. He hadn’t felt quite right in his own skin since he left Rome; everything had felt subtlyoffsomehow, unfamiliar, even his mum’s kitchen and his everyday training routine. But here, in a room he’d never seen in his life before,homewas the slender woman curled in his arms. He held her tighter and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of her hair and fully relaxing for the first time in weeks.

“Alright, big guy,” Myst said after a couple of minutes. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“Another one?” George teased, arching a brow as she scrambled to her feet and headed over to the piano in the corner… a piano in a hotel suite! Her management had certainly pushed the boat out for her here. “You keep this up, I might start getting spoiled.”

“Please,” Myst scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You’re impossible to spoil. Too grounded or whatever.” She perched on the piano bench, her fingers brushing over the keys without pressing down. Then her expression softened, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the mask of confidence. “But… this is different. It’s something I’ve been working on for weeks. For you.”

George froze in the middle of getting up to go over to her, his gaze locking onto hers. “For me? You mean, that song… the lyrics you showed me on the train?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, looking down at the piano now, suddenly shy. Her hands hovered above the keys for a moment longer before she took a deep breath and began to play.

The first notes were delicate, tentative, like a whisper carried on the wind. But as Myst leaned into the melody, her voice rose, soft yet rich, every word laced with raw emotion. The lyrics painted their story in vivid strokes: the shock of falling for each other at first sight, the ache of distance, the weight of expectations, the quiet joy of stolen moments. It was as if she’d reached into their shared memories and woven them into something tangible, something eternal.

George didn’t move. He couldn’t. His feet seemed rooted to the plush carpet, his chest tightening with each line she sang. Her voice filled the room, wrapping around him like a warm embrace, and for the first time in his life, he felt utterly unguarded. Vulnerable in the best way.

When the final note faded into silence, Myst looked up at him, her pale blue eyes searching his face. “Well?” she asked softly, almost nervous. “What do you think?”

George blinked, realizing too late that tears had pooled in his eyes. He let out a shaky laugh, swiping at his cheek with the back of his hand. “Myst,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “That’s… that’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard. I don’t even have words for it.”

“Good,” she quipped, though her own voice wavered slightly as relief washed over her features. “Means I did my job right.”

He crossed the room in two long strides, cupping her face in his hands and tilting her head up so she couldn’t look anywhere but at him. “You didn’t just do your job,” he said earnestly. “You gave me something I’ll never forget. Thank you.”

She smiled, leaning into his touch, and for a moment they stayed like that: her seated on the piano bench, him towering over her, their foreheads nearly touching.

“Guess I’ve got a knack for making tough rugby players cry,” she teased after a beat, her grin turning playful again.

“Don’t push it,” George shot back, though the corners of his mouth twitched upward despite himself. He leaned down to kiss her, slow and deliberate, as if trying to pour all the gratitude and love he couldn’t put into words directly into the gesture.

Myst melted into him, standing to close the distance between their bodies. “Come here,” she whispered, tugging him by the hand toward the massive bed draped in crisp white linens. “Tonight isn’t about schedules or headlines or anything else. It’s just us.”

George nodded, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. Their lips met again, and this time, the kiss deepened, carrying the weight of everything they’d been through and everything they still hoped to build together.

As Myst’s song played quietly in the background, looping on the sleek sound system, they lost themselves in each other. Every caress felt like a promise, every whispered name like an anchor tethering them to this moment. Beyond the glass, Dubai sparkled with its endless hum of life, but within these walls, it was quiet, just the rhythm of their breaths, the slide of skin on skin, and the music they’d created together.

“Come on, it’s ringing,” George said, nudging Myst gently with his shoulder as they sat cross-legged on the plush carpet of her hotel suite. His phone was propped precariously on a stack of coasters, the screen showing a spinning circle while the video call connected.

“Okay, okay,” Myst murmured, smoothing an invisible wrinkle in her flowy blouse for the third time. Her fingers fidgeted with the hem as she glanced at George, her pale blue eyes wide with nerves. “What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Impossible,” George said without missing a beat. He reached out and gave her knee a reassuring squeeze, his thumb brushing against the soft fabric of her leggings. “Mum’s gonna love you. Just be yourself.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Myst muttered under her breath, but before she could spiral any further, the screen lit up, and a warm, smiling face appeared.

“George!” The voice was unmistakably Australian, rich with affection. A woman with sandy blonde hair pulled back into a loose bun leaned closer to the camera. Behind her, the cosy kitchen of the Dennis family home came into view; warm wooden cabinets, a fridge cluttered with magnets, and the faint sound of a kettle boiling in the background. “Oh, it’s good to see your face, love! And this must be Myst! I have been absolutely dying to meet you, sweetheart.”

“Hi, Mrs. Dennis,” Myst said quickly, her voice bright but a little shaky. She gave a small wave, her delicate hand hovering awkwardly near her face. “It’s so nice to meet you… well, sort of meet you.”

“Call me Julie, sweetheart,” George’s mum said, her smile widening. “I’ve heard nothing but wonderful things about you. My boy can’t stop talking about you, actually.”

“That’s enough, Mum,” George cut in, his cheeks flushing slightly. He scratched the back of his neck and shot Myst a sheepish grin.

“Don’t ‘enough’ me, George,” Julie teased, waving him off. “Myst, you’re absolutely stunning! And I know you’ve got the voice of an angel. Can’t wait to meet you properly when you come to visit us.”

“Thank you,” Myst replied, her voice softer now, the tension easing from her shoulders. Something about Julie’s warmth felt disarming, genuine, and Myst found herself smiling more easily. “I’m really looking forward to it too.”

“Good girl,” Julie said approvingly. “Now, George, make sure you don’t scare her off before then. Don’t let her eat any of your cooking…”

“Alright, alright,” George interrupted, groaning playfully as Myst giggled beside him. “We’ll chat later, yeah? Love you, Mum.”

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