Page 52 of Star Rucked Lovers

“Just fine?” she teased. “Better watch yourself, Dennis, or I might start charging performance fees.”

“Fair enough,” he replied, tugging her close enough to press a quick kiss to her temple. “Whatever it costs, you’re worth it.”

The sand was cool beneath Myst’s bare feet, the grains slipping between her toes as she walked beside George. The rhythmic crash of waves filled the air, a soothing backdrop to the quiet that had settled between them. Overhead, the stars stretched endlessly, scattered across the inky sky like someone had spilled a jar of glitter.

“Your world’s not so bad,” Myst said finally, her voice soft. She glanced sideways at George, who had his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans, his long strides slowed to match her pace. “I could get used to this.”

“Not exactly stadium lights and screaming fans, is it?” he teased, his lips curving into that crooked smile that always made her heart skip a beat.

“Exactly,” she murmured, her gaze drifting back to the ocean. “It’s… grounding.” She paused, brushing a strand of wind-tousled hair out of her face. “Thanks for letting me in, George. For showing me all of this, your family, your home. I feel like I’ve been running on adrenaline for years, and now…” Her voice trailed off, but the contentment in her sigh finished the sentence for her.

“Now you’re stuck with me,” George quipped, bumping her shoulder lightly with his arm.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” she shot back with a grin, though her eyes betrayed the depth of her affection. “But seriously, I needed this. I didn’t even realize how much until today.”

“Well,” George began, his tone softening as he stopped walking and turned to face her, “they love you, you know. Mum, my sisters, the kids, they couldn’t stop talking about you after you sang.” He reached for her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “And honestly? I don’t blame them. You have this way of… fitting, like you’ve always been part of this chaos.”

Myst looked up at him, her pale blue eyes searching his face. “It felt like I belonged,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “And I haven’t felt that in a long time.”

“Then you’re right where you’re meant to be,” George said simply, his words steady and sure.

For a moment, neither of them moved, standing there amidst the sound of the waves and the endless stretch of stars above. Then George gave her hand a gentle tug, leading her toward the dunes where they sank down together on the cool, soft sand, the world shrinking to just the two of them.

“Alright,” he said, lying back with his arms folded behind his head. “What’s next for Myst?”

“Big question,” she replied, sitting cross-legged beside him, her fingers idly tracing patterns in the sand. She let the silence linger for a beat before answering. “I think it’s time for something different. I’ve been going nonstop for years… recording, touring, interviews, repeat. But coming here, meeting your family… it’s sparked something. I want to write an album that feelsreal. Something personal. No big producers, no over-the-top spectacle. Just me and the music. Acoustic, maybe.”

“Yeah?” George tilted his head to look at her, his expression curious. “You reckon you can sit still long enough to make that happen?”

“Rude,” she said with a mock glare, flicking a handful of sand in his direction. “But yes, I can. I need to. It’ll be inspired by this… by you, by your family, by everything I’ve been too busy to notice lately.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out,” he said, his voice low and thoughtful.

“Not quite,” she admitted with a small laugh. “But it feels like the first step in a while that’s completely mine, you know?”

“Yeah, I get that,” he said, nodding slowly. “And hey, if you need a break from all that creative genius, you’re welcome at every rugby game from now on. Off-seasons, too; I’ll even teach you how to throw a decent pass if you’re feeling adventurous.”

“Careful,” she warned, pointing a finger at him. “I might actually take you up on that.”

“Good,” he said, grinning as he sat up and leaned closer. “Because you’re going to have to get used to rugby being a regular part of your life. Non-negotiable.”

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes. “But only if you agree to be my backup dancer when I go back on tour.”

“Deal,” he shot back without missing a beat, though the idea clearly amused him. “But fair warning, I can’t promise I won’t steal the show.”

“Wouldn’t expect anything less,” Myst replied, her voice warm with laughter.

They fell into a comfortable silence then, lying side by side on the sand, their hands loosely intertwined. Above them, the stars burned bright, as if the universe itself was listening to their promises. They both knew it wouldn’t always be easy; their lives were complicated, pulled in every direction by fame, schedules, and expectations. But as Myst rested her head against George’s shoulder and he pressed a kiss to her hair, they also knew one thing for certain: whatever came next, they’d face it together.

A month later, the late afternoon sun cast a warm, golden glow over the verandah as Myst leaned back into her chair, her bare feet resting on the wooden railing. The hum of conversation and bursts of laughter from George’s family surrounded her like a familiar song, blending with the distant crash of waves against the shore. In the yard below, George’s nieces and nephews were locked in a chaotic game of backyard cricket, their high-pitched cheers and shouts carrying through the salty breeze.

“That’s a no-ball, mate!” George called out, his deep voice cutting through the racket as he lounged beside Myst, one arm draped casually across the back of her chair. He grinned when his youngest nephew protested loudly, waving the bat indignantly. “Don’t argue with the umpire,” he added, smirking as the boy huffed and reset his stance.

“Your umpiring skills are questionable at best,” Myst teased, tilting her head to look up at him. Her pale blue eyes sparkled with mischief, and she reached over to steal a sip of his drink without asking. George raised an eyebrow but didn’t protest, the corner of his mouth twitching upward.

“Careful, love,” he said, leaning closer so only she could hear. “Keep that up and they’ll put you in charge next.”

“Maybe I will,” she shot back, setting the glass down with a confident clink. “I’d be fairer than you, at least.”

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