Bikes & Blood

𝐈𝐕.

Amara climbed down from the top of the stand, eyes catching the glinting waves. The band on the stage continued to play as her shoes came into contact with the wooden boardwalk. Amara wasn't sure how much time had passed since she'd left her father upon the boardwalk. The stars above glinted within the inky depths of the sky as she weaved her way through the people on the boardwalk, wondering where her father was and if he'd found something to entertain himself with.

Santa Carla's boardwalk remained lively even now as the moon crested the sky and the night grew later-or younger for some. Music drifted through the boardwalk from the concert behind her; mixing with the lights and rides of the boardwalk smoother than any wine. Glances were thrown Amara's way as she stopped in front of an old, almost antique bookstore and peered up at the worn sign.

Rust decorated the metal sign, the writing upon the rust-stained sign unreadable and peeling. Though the outside appeared rundown and neglected, the interior was lavishly decorated. Warm yellow lights lit up the store windows and cast an alluring glow on the wooden planks of the boardwalk. A soft chime followed Amara into the store as she marvelled at the homely and appealing bookstore, the door swinging closed behind her on silent hinges.

Bookshelves lined the opposing walls, books of varying genres filling the shelves with their different colours and designs. From the opposing walls, bookshelves were lined up in neat rows from one wall to the other. Books that couldn't fit upon the shelves were stacked in neat piles in front of the shelves, each end housing stacks of varying genres. Plush chairs and lounges were tucked into every nook and cranny that Amara's eyes ghosted over, a soft smile tugging at the edges of her mouth as she trailed her fingers across the spines of the books.

Small plants, both hanging and not, finished the bookstore and provided it with a dark academia-like vibe. The soothing scent of ink and paper filled Amara's lungs and calmed her soul. The purple spine of a particular book captured her attention as her fingers ghosted above the title. Amara pulled the book from the shelf with ease, turning the book over in her hands so that she could study the white cover.

The spine, much like that of the text upon the cover, was a deep dark purple. Amara shook her head in disbelief as she read the bold text written in all capital letters. 'Inkheart' was about as elusive as the author had written the storyline. Proving to be harder to find within its short release time than any other book she'd bought. Amara couldn't decipher if it was pure luck that she'd stumbled upon this store or fate-the price upon the cover proved to be the first rather than the latter.

"Find something you like?" A voice questioned suddenly.

Amara's head snapped in the voice's direction as her heart raced within her chest. The book within her hands almost clattered to the floor in her haste and brief fright. "You scared the crap out of me."

The curly-haired blonde merely laughed, sandy-blonde curls coming to rest at the nape of his neck. His hazel-brown eyes rippled with amusement as Amara tried to calm her racing heart that thundered within her chest. Her eyebrows came together as Amara's eyes fell upon his brightly coloured patchwork jacket. The white cropped shirt, jeans, and faded boots he wore made her wonder if his clothes matched his personality. Bright and somewhat welcoming. His Cheshire-like grin never faded from his face as he watched Amara study him with a small incline of his head, a single earring swung gently from his left ear with the movement.

"Sorry about that. I always forget how quietly I walk." A sheepish grin crept across his face as his eyes flitted from Amara's face to the book in her hand. "I'm Marko by the way, might as well introduce myself after scaring you like that."

Marko chuckled softly as Amara shook her head. An amused grin of her own etched into her face as she brushed his apology off like it'd been nothing more than a speck of dust. "Don't worry about it. I'm Amara. You might as well know the name of the person you scared."