Page 101 of Five Summers

People always stare when we enter a room. I always imagined fame to be cool, but I never considered that everyone would be obsessively tracking our every move.

As we walk through the crowd, I find Ace and Reg talking with Poppy at the bar. When Ace hands her a card, I watch her take it and then turn away. That fucker better not be hitting on her.

As she goes to the next customer at the bar, I can't take my eyes off her. Her presence is just so captivating, especially when she flashes that beautiful smile. It reminds me of how she used to smile at me, just like that.

Man, I'm feeling super anxious right now. It's crazy how I can own the stage in front of thousands of people, but right now I'm losing my shit just thinking about talking to her. What if she straight up tells me to go fuck myself? I stay there, watching her for a few more seconds as she moves on to the next customer.

Ace and Reg get up and head over to the wankers in the suits who paid extra to be here tonight. Wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, I make my way over, aware of all the eyes on me.

I keep walking, not looking at anyone, just watching Poppy as she pours drinks at the bar. My throat is so dry and my heart is pounding so loud in my chest, that I can hear my blood pumping.

I've always wondered if I should reach out to her and see if she still has any feelings for me. However, I never did because I was afraid that she’d finally figure it out. That I was a lowlife like everyone said.

Upon reaching the bar, I swiftly take the seat that Ace was sitting in.

From there, I watch attentively as she interacts with the other patrons. I can’t help but notice that she has aged a little, but the essence of the beautiful Poppy I remember from what feels like a lifetime ago is still there. Nervously, I tap my fingers on the bar, catching her attention. She gives me a quick look before passing a beer to the irritating dude in a suit who wanted a photo with me earlier. He keeps staring at Poppy as she turns away, and I can't stand the way he checks her out, examining every part of her. If the fucker doesn’t look away soon, he’ll feel my fist in his face.

As she makes her way towards me, my throat suddenly feels dry.

Standing before me, she swallows, her gulp appearing painful. Her eyes lock on mine for a moment before she looks away.

“What can I get you?” she asks. Though she never utters my name, her voice carries an impersonal, robotic tone, as if she’s repeated these words countless times tonight, treating me like just another customer, much like the fuckhead in the suit two seats down.

"Hey, Princess," I say nervously, worried about how she might react to being called that.

“What can I do for you, Xander?” she asks, giving me a scrutinizing look that hints her patience is wearing thin as if she’s desperate to distance herself from me.

“I’ll have a bourbon, without ice,” I say, feeling uncertain about what to say in front of all these people, especially with the moron in the suit still staring at me.

She turns around and prepares the drink.

With a forceful motion, she places it on the bar, causing it to spill over the edge of the glass. “Is there anything else?” She asks, her tone noticeably colder than before. It’s a stark contrast to how she used to respond to Jade and others. It feels like a stab in the heart when she acts cold towards me. Nevertheless, I don’t want her to walk away.

“Yeah, give me another one,” I say, grabbing the glass and quickly downing the drink.

Poppy stares at me, like she's wondering what I'm up to.

She waits for a second, then grabs another glass and fills it up. I really hope she stays and talks with me. I need to know why she's working here instead of pursuing her dream.

She returns, setting the bourbon down before taking hold of the empty glass and turning away.

Unable to contain my curiosity any longer, I ask. “Why do you work here?”

She stops and turns back, giving me a skeptical look. “Seriously, Xander? You think you can ask me that? It’s none of your business what I do now.” She turns to walk away.

“Wait, I’ll have another,” I add, desperate for her to stay. I've already had my fair share of drinks tonight to get through this event. Ace will lose his shit when he catches me slamming down every drink she puts in front of me, but I don't give a fuck. I need to talk to her.

She rolls her eyes, a characteristic reminiscent of our younger days, before turning away to get me another drink. I can’t help but smile at the comforting familiarity of that simple gesture.

“She won’t give you her number,” remarks the asshole two seats away. “But hey, you might have a chance, since you're famous and everything. I bet she’s a wild one in the sheets,” he says, loud enough for people nearby to hear.

I'm so mad I could explode. Without thinking twice, I get up to confront this asshole who dares to disrespect Poppy like that. I snatch his shirt collar and bring him closer, our faces inches apart.

“You better listen, asshole,” I yell, seething with anger. “Don't you dare disrespect her or I'll fuck you up.”

The asshole’s eyes go wide, and I feel his alcoholic breath on my face, triggering memories of the beatings my old man gave me.

Out of nowhere, Reg and Ace come over and drag me away from the jerk. The room goes dead silent again, but I don't give a damn. If he talks about Poppy like that again, I'll punch this jerk in the face.

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