Page 131 of Five Summers

Shit. I had successfully avoided him last night and this morning at the hotel, and now he wants to bring it up when I’m feeling my worst.

“I never should have come. I just want to go home,” I blurt out before he can even begin to criticize me.

The expression on his face says it all. His jaw tightens, his lips narrow. “You must be joking. After all the arrangements that have been made, you choose to bail now. Just three days into it,” he responds, clearly frustrated. “You’ve already been paid the ten thousand dollars, Poppy. If you leave now, you’ll have to pay it all back, and you’ll also have to find your own way home. The label won’t be providing any money for your return trip. Ace said you were tough, but clearly, he didn’t know you at all. So why don’t you just go back to your insignificant life that means nothing to anyone? After what you did last night, I’m better off without you,” he says.

The term “insignificant” evokes a strong reaction in me. Just because I’m not a wealthy rockstar doesn’t mean I’m a nobody. It fuels a fire within me, similar to when Jade used to constantly target me with hurtful comments about my weight. Screw him. He has no right to speak to me like that. Sure, I may have broken down and shown vulnerability in the face of overwhelming emotions, but I need to toughen up and confront this jerk who won’t stop yelling at me.

“Fuck you. If you want me to do this job, then you need to stop being so demanding and let me do it. You can’t scream at me down the phone just because I won’t give in to your demands like everyone else.”

Footsteps sound on the hard cement floor, prompting Reg to turn around to see who’s approaching. I cast a glance over Reg’s shoulder to see Xander. His gaze meets mine, then shifts to Reg, as if he yearns to find out what’s going on.

Reg glances at his watch. “You haven’t finished sound check yet,” he says, eyeing Xander.

“I’m done,” Xander says, his eyes locked on me as he approaches. Reg opens his mouth to protest, but Xander beats him to it. “Don’t say a fucking word, I swear to god, Reg.”

Reg takes a step back, watching as Xander grabs my hand and pulls me forward.

As we make our way down the long corridor, he finally spots a restroom and quickly ushers me inside, locking the door behind us.

Leaning against the door, he watches me for a moment before he speaks. “What’s wrong, Princess?”

"Don't worry about it," I mutter, keeping my head down, feeling embarrassed for letting myself fall apart.

“It’s the song, right?” he says.

I lift my head in response to his words, but I find it difficult to articulate my feelings. Hearing him sing that song hurts me deeply. It feels like our special song, or at least it was to me.

“Singing that song hurts me too,” he admits.

I get it. The pain of losing his mother is just as intense as my longing for my father.

“You didn’t have to come after me,” I say, trying to divert the conversation. “You could have continued with sound check. Now I’ll be blamed for messing that up.”

“You’re not to blame,” he says, pushing off the door, coming towards me. “I canceled sound check because I wanted to, and believe me, no one will say a fucking word about it.” He walks over and positions himself directly in front of me. His eyes scan my face, as if examining every tiny feature.

He raises his hand and gently caresses the side of my face.

“I can’t do this, Xander.”

“If you want me to stop, just say the word,” he says.

I swallow, not wanting to say those words but knowing that I have to. I can't just be his convenient hookup for the next month or two. Allowing that to happen would shatter my heart beyond repair.

He leans in, running his nose over the shell of my ear. I close my eyes at the sensation of feeling him again—the smell of him, the touch of him. His other hand rests gently on my hip. “I want you, Princess,” he whispers close to my ear. “I want you in every way possible. Not just you coming on my cock, but everything. And when you’re ready to forgive me for what I’ve done, we need to talk.” He plants a soft kiss on my cheek and turns away, unlocking the door and stepping outside.

I recognize that move. It’s the one I’ve witnessed countless times for years when I watched him. He did it with Jade, Savannah, and all the other girls he hooked up with.

I make my way over to the sink, place my palms on the counter, and fix my gaze on my reflection in the mirror. Through my tear-stained eyes, I notice my mascara has smudged. Flicking on the tap, I cup my hands and let the water cascade over my face. Get your shit together, Poppy. You’re tougher than this.

Three days later, the crowd’s roar pulsates in my ears as I watch Xander move around the stage. The dazzling lights cast a radiant glow on his figure, and despite the scorching heat surrounding me, a chill runs down my spine.

It’s been over two hours, yet he continues to pour his heart and soul into his performance. It is both mesmerizing and intimidating to witness how effortlessly he commands the attention of over eighty thousand people. He's in his element as if he was born to thrive in this very moment.

“I love you, Xander,” someone shouts from the crowd.

“I want to have your babies.”

“I’ll let you stick it anywhere,” another woman at the front of the crowd yells.

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