Arrows & Anchors (SAMPLE)

The Night We Met: Bonus Scene

"Isn't that how falling in love so often works? Some stranger appears out of nowhere and becomes a fixed star in your universe."
—Kate Bolick

Julian's POV

I liked to think I was a logical person. So, logically speaking, I knew my hair was clean. 

Surely, it was. I'd scrubbed and lathered it repeatedly, for thirty minutes in the shower. 

So why did I still feel as though it smelt of egg, hours after Jesse decided to wake me up from a nap, by cracking a yolk in my hair? Admittedly, it was probably just anxiety for the night ahead of me.

Excitement, mixed with something else, was overwhelming me. Truly, I was ecstatic to be playing in the states for the very first time. This show in Arizona, though, was proving to be more than a little nerve-racking. The arena was completely sold out, a first for us in America, and even though I knew we were just the supporting act, there was a strange knot in my stomach. 

So odd, I thought to myself, as I rarely got stage jitters... and this didn't feel like quite the same thing.

How ridiculous I was being. It was going to be just another night on tour, I was sure of it. Just the usual four steps, in order.

One: Go out there and put on the best show that we can.

Two: Make our way to the green room for a nice nosh-up and a shower.

Three: If we're lucky enough, head to a hotel for a bit of rest, and then...

Four: Return to the tour bus and begin driving to our next destination.

You'll have to forgive me, for the phrase "tour bus" might be a bit misleading. 

No, no, no. This wasn't just any old coach. It was absolutely brilliant. 

No matter how many days I spent in its surroundings, I couldn't grow used to the extravagance of it. Even on wheels, it had more amenities than many modest homes, and was certainly built with expert craftsmanship. 

Compared to where, and how, I used to live, that bus made me feel like a king—maybe a king that was falsely put into power. So, in many ways, I felt I didn't really deserve it, or belong there—both being on the lavish vehicle, and living the ultimate dream of touring in a wildly successful band.

If anyone knew my history... well, I was just glad that nobody did. Even I didn't like to think about it, really. Thankfully, though, back in those days, I never had much time to myself, so opportunities for rumination were rare. 

Having my thoughts interrupted by four absolute idiots was far more likely. 

It was June the twenty-fourth, and that day was no different.

I looked up from the brightly lit screen of my laptop when I heard someone grumbling. Next to me, on the luxurious tour bus, sat Mason in a messy bunk. With heavily inked arms—well, heavily inked when compared to my plain old skin—my closest friend and bandmate strummed his black Les Paul.

"That's not right," Mason sighed, as he played the chords again.

I listened closely as he played it once more.

"What if you tried a bar chord there instead?" I suggested, whilst shutting down my laptop to concentrate on the music. "And that second-to-last chord, it needs a major ninth to it. Give that a go?"