Page 121 of Five Summers

Chapter forty-eight

Poppy

Imake every effort to avoid Xander. The memory of his body pressed against mine plays tricks on my mind. The lingering sensation of his breath on my skin is hard to shake off. But I’m proud I remained strong, resisting the temptation to surrender and relive the moments we once shared. And still, after all this time I want him. Want him with everything within me. But I can’t go back to the way things used to be between us. I refuse to relive those memories where he manipulated me into thinking I'm the center of his universe, the most beautiful girl he's ever laid eyes on because it's all an act. I’m not falling for that shit again.

Upon landing in Australia, I purposely keep my distance from him and the band, silently asserting my need for personalspace. But every time he looks at me, I can feel it, like a physical touch.

As we make our way through the airport, it becomes increasingly apparent the enormity of what I’ve gotten myself into and the chaotic frenzy that lies ahead. A sea of fans, comprising both girls and boys, eagerly await the band from behind the barricades.

Their screams are so loud that I almost cover my ears. Some of them hold signs that say, “Marry me, Xander,” while others offer to do sexual activities with the band - “I’ll let you stick it anywhere” or “I’m down for anything.”

I can't help but wonder if any of these requests actually happen. I watch from afar as the band members happily mingle with fans, taking selfies and signing stuff, even various body parts.

Seeing all this, makes me wonder why Xander would flirt with me on the plane when it’s obvious he could have any girl he desires. The adoration and screams from the fans imply that these men could easily satisfy all their sexual fantasies whenever they please.

Watching Xander mingle with his fans, I realize he’s living his dream, the life he’s always wanted - a life where fans admire and adore him, all while doing what he loves - music. While I’m thrilled about his achievements, it’s a little heartbreaking knowing that I was not there to share his dream and celebrate his victories.

Lost in my thoughts, observing how these four guys effortlessly attract all the love, I’m startled when Reg suddenly appears right beside me.

“This is how it starts,” he says, looking down at his phone.

Curious, I inquire, “How what starts?”

“You’ll find out soon enough. Just remember, your job here is to keep him in line. If you fail, the contract will be considerednon-valid,” he says, walking away towards the guys. I can't help but wonder if there was some kind of threat in his comment.

Asshole. I watch him as he makes his way towards the security guards, who are positioned near the band.

“Don’t worry about that asshole.” A voice sounds behind me.

I glance behind to see a woman in her early thirties making her way towards me. She has short, dyed blonde hair and three facial piercings—eyebrow, nose, and lip.

“Poppy isn’t it?” she says, extending her hand to me. “I’m Kit.”

“Hi,” I shake her hand, curious about how she knows my name.

Kit cracks up laughing when she notices the confused look on my face.

“No, I’m not a stalker. I got an email that you were coming on the tour.”

“Oh, okay,” I reply, still unsure about who she is or what she does since I didn’t see her on the plane at all.

“I imagine it’s quite overwhelming to witness all of this, but it’s practically their daily life while they’re on tour,” she explains, gesturing towards the fans vying for the attention of the four guys. “Things have gotten even crazier in recent years. Some fans are incredibly obsessive. Let’s hope the Aussies aren’t as wild.”

“So you’ve been with the guys for a while, huh?” I inquire.

"Yep, ever since they got signed and started touring," she says, turning back to look at the band. “I make sure the guys know what's happening with their daily schedule, and I fix or change it if there are any issues. I take care of all the media stuff and publicity during their tour. Stuff like that, you know.”

“Right. Bet your job keeps you busy. I didn’t see you on the plane.”

“Those of us who work behind the scenes, we don’t really mingle with the band. Company rules. We were all up in the lounge towards the front of the plane,” she explains. She takes out her phone, swiftly types something, and then puts it back into her pocket.

“The band is about to head out to meet the press, so we should follow them. Down there where the vehicles are waiting,” she says, pointing.

I turn my gaze in that direction and notice several camera crews from various news outlets, eagerly awaiting the band’s arrival.

I look back to see Reg nodding, and immediately the six security guards spring into action, leading the band forward. Kit grabs my arm and urges me to follow as the security guards behind us move ahead.

“Just a quick tip, Poppy,” she says. “If you want to avoid being on television and social media, I suggest hanging back with Neil over there,” she points to a large, bald security guard who is still wearing wrap-around sunglasses inside the airport. “Well, it was nice to meet you, Poppy. We’ll probably head down to the bar tonight at the hotel. Come down and meet everyone if you like.” She gives me a quick smile and hurries ahead to catch up with Reg.

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