Nineteen-year-old, Bea Somerton, knows exactly how she wants to live. Become a doctor, remain in remission from her childhood Leukaemia and have a happy, normal, life.
The last thing she expects is to meet rising star and troubled musician, Holden P...
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"You've got to be kidding me."
The florescent open sign hangs half lit on the doorway of the dodgiest bar I've ever seen. The O of the red signage blinks once, then twice, before fizzling out entirely.
Even my stubborn attempt at planting my feet firmly in the ground doesn't stop Holden from guiding me towards the front doors.
"Are you attempting to get me killed?" I seethe. "This is the definition of a dive bar."
"Don't be so dramatic, Somerton," Holden works his jaw, sending me a side long glance as he swings the door open.
The instant smell of alcohol and stale food fills my nostrils as I step in ahead of Holden. Ignoring the curious glances from the locals, I realise almost instantly why I've been brought here.
"Number eight; ride a mechanical bull," Holden finishes.
I hold back a smile as I turn my head to him briefly. "How did you find this?"
"I have my ways," he says, mysteriously.
"You just googled bars with mechanical bulls, didn't you—"
"Yep," he interrupts, sidestepping me to walk towards the giant ring.
I stand beside Holden, holding back my own nervous laughter. "You're going first."
"I don't remember your list stating that I had to anything of the sort," he rebukes. "Get your ass over there, Somerton."
"I don't think—"
Before I get the chance to change my mind, Holden's strong grip lands against my waist and he hoists me into the air. With a surprised gasp, I grip onto his hands as he hauls me over the barrier.
I fall against the inflatable surface beneath me with a scowl that I direct towards the jackass behind me. "Asshole," I grumble.
"What was that?" He smirks.
"I said asshole," I retort, standing to my feet.
I note the sudden breathless flutter in my chest but push it away. The last thing I need is for Holden to get suspicious about my health.
"You made this list," he remarks. "Can't blame anyone but yourself."
"I—"
"Can I help you?"
A young bartender stands with her hand on her hip, chewing gum obnoxiously. She glances at Holden but doesn't seem fazed by who he is. I notice the knock to his ego instantly as he crosses his arms over his chest.
