Page 132 of Five Summers

I can’t help but roll my eyes when he gives her a panty-melting smile.

He grabs the mic in a crude gesture and the crowd cheers get even louder. And he just stands there - like some important world figure. Absorbing the energy, biding his time until the tension, the anticipation becomes so intense that you can hear the rapid beating of hearts belonging to every girl in the crowd.

Another moment slips away. Electricity surges through me like a live wire. Quietly, I scold myself for the way my body reacts to him.

With a sudden turn of his head, he catches sight of me standing there. Our eyes lock, and he playfully runs his tongue over his bottom lip in a suggestive manner, igniting a surge of desire within me. Memories flood back of that skilled tongue and all the pleasurable things it can do. His eyes narrow, and he gives me a self-satisfied smile, while Nate sets a slow beat on the drums, followed by Theo on bass and Ace on the guitar. Yet, his gaze remains fixed on me, his seductive, sexy lopsided grin never wavering. Cocky asshole.

I used to adore the way he was - unapologetic and unaffected by others’ opinions. His rawness and that dirty way of speaking captivated me. Oh, that mouth. The very thought of it would invade my thoughts as I lay alone in bed at night. And even though he projected toughness, he slowly let me in to see the tender parts that had caused his scars.

What the hell was I thinking when I said yes to Theo’s request to watch the show? I should have stayed in the green room like I have every other night.

I’ve been avoiding Xander at all costs ever since he dragged me into the restroom. It took every ounce of strength to resist the temptation of indulging in him and using him the way he used me. But I couldn’t, as it would only reopen old wounds and painful memories.

My phone suddenly vibrates in my pocket, prompting me to quickly pull it out. To my surprise, the caller ID displays my mother’s name. This is unusual since she never calls me. It’s always me calling her to check on Alex.

A rush of anxiety courses through me, wondering if something is wrong. As I glance up, I notice that Xander’s gazeis still fixed on me. The only noticeable change is the concern etched on his face, replacing his previous smug expression.

I quickly distance myself, sprinting away from the stage so I can answer my phone and listen to my mother amidst the deafening music.

“Hold on!” I shout, plugging my other ear with my finger and racing towards the green room to ensure I can hear her. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes, but try not to panic when I tell you this,” she says, her words instantly sending waves of panic through my body. My heart beats loudly, like it’s about to hammer its way out of my chest.

“Just tell me, Mom,” I demand.

“We’re at the hospital. But don’t worry, Alex is okay. He had an accident when he fell off his bike on the sidewalk. The doctors said he needs surgery and they need your insurance information.”

“A bike? But he doesn't even have one, let alone know how to ride it. How did he even get on a bike?”

I’m rambling, unable to fully grasp how this situation even happened. Tears fill my eyes as I agonize over my son’s injuries. In all the chaos of getting everything ready, I forgot to give my mother the insurance details. How could I have overlooked such an important thing? However, the greater worry lingers: why was my son riding a bike? What other secrets has my mother been keeping from me?

“Hang on, Mom. I’ll get them,” I say, realizing that all our bags from the hotel are now loaded on the tour bus.

With my phone pressed to my ear, I quickly approach Robbo, one of the many friendly Australian security guards the band has hired while here in Australia.

“Hey Robbo, it’s an emergency. I need to get to the bus right away.”

Noticing my distress, he pivots and guides me towards a locked door, leading us through a narrow, fenced-off section to reach the bus waiting at the back of the building.

“Alex has been asking for you,” my mother mentions, adding yet another layer of pain.

Great mom. Push the knife a little deeper into my heart.“Can I talk to him?”

“No, they’re preparing him for surgery.”

In a rush, I board the bus and find our luggage already placed at the front of the bus.

There I see a well-equipped kitchenette with a spacious dining area. Next to that, is a cozy sitting area with two inviting couches, accompanied by a television and an Xbox console.

“What? He’s going into surgery now?”

“Soon. That’s why I’m calling you.”

I reach into my bag, searching for my wallet to locate my insurance card. “Alright, I found it,” I say as I pull it out.

“Just a moment, I’ll pass you over to the nurse.”

“Hello,” a high-pitched voice greets me on the other end of the phone. Once I’ve provided the necessary information, I ask the questions my mother refuses to answer. “Is Alex okay?”

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