Page 27 of Five Summers

“No. It’ll get destroyed if it stays here. It’s yours, Xander.”

Carefully placing the guitar next to me, I scoot over to hug Poppy.

“Thank you, Princess. You have no idea how much this means to me. You can trust me with it. I’ll never let it out of my sight.” I hold her close, feeling the warmth of her embrace, grateful for her kindness. Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath and let the tantalizing scent of her strawberry-scented shampoo fill my senses.

The warmth of her body lingers on my skin when I release her from my embrace and sit back in the plush lounge.

“I was about to have a bowl of ice cream before you knocked. You want some?”

“Yeah, sure,” I blurt out.

With a smile, she heads back to the kitchen. I focus on the guitar and run my fingers over the wood, stressing about how to keep it safe from my dad. I’ll leave it at Ace’s place. That will be the safest option.

Poppy returns with two large bowls of ice cream. The scoops piled high and topped with chocolate topping and whipped cream. After handing me the bowl, she reaches for the TV remote and presses a button to unmute the television. As weeat, we sit watching the Housewives’ petty squabbles play out. The entertainment value of this show is off the charts, despite its train wreck nature. I know I shouldn't indulge in shows that thrive on chicks tearing each other down, but damn it, I can't resist. Poppy’s infectious giggles fill the air, and I can’t help but chuckle along with her as we lounge together.

It's refreshing that Poppy never asks about my father and what went down, leaving the painful memories buried for the night.

As we watch three more episodes, I notice the silence, the absence of Poppy’s infectious laughter. I glance over to find her asleep. I look at the clock on the back wall to see it’s well past two in the morning. Wow! That time went quick. I’ve never just hung out with a chick for the sake of enjoying her company.

My movements are deliberate and gentle, ensuring that she remains undisturbed as I get up.

I take a moment to gaze at her, listening to the sounds of her steady breathing, before reaching for the cozy throw rug from the back of the lounge. As I tuck the blanket in around her, she stirs slightly but settles back into a peaceful sleep. Moving a strand of her long hair back behind her ear, I notice the peaceful expression on her face. I wonder what she’s dreaming about. I reach out and touch her cheek, marveling at the silky feel of her skin beneath my fingertips.

Shaking my head, I pull my hand away, wondering what the fuck possessed me to do such a thing.

Wasting no time, I snatch the guitar, my mind already racing to find a secure hiding place in the backyard, far from my father's reach.

Hours later, I wake up early and walk to school trying to avoid seeing my dad. I stand in the usual spot, waiting for Ace to arrive.

Ace’s car screeches to a halt in the school parking lot. He looks up through the windscreen and his eyes widen at the sight of the guitar in my hands. Without taking his eyes off it, he jumps out of the car and comes towards me.

“How the fuck did you come across this?” he asks, taking the guitar and running his hands along the surface, feeling the texture of the wood.

“My old man destroyed mine last night.”

He looks up. His brows furrow, his eyes narrowing as he finally notices the swollen bruises on my face. “He was awake.”

“Yep. Like he was waiting for me.”

“You okay, man?”

“Yeah,” I confirm with a simple nod of my head.

His eyes linger on me for a moment longer before he shifts his attention back to the guitar. “A 2000 Santa Cruz. How the fuck did you end up with this?” he says, playing a few notes.

“Someone gave it to me.”

“Who?” he mumbles, his focus unwavering as he keeps his head down and plucks the strings. “We don’t know anyone with this kind of stuff.”

Silence follows his question. I’m struggling to find the right words to say to him. I wanted to avoid his interrogation about what I was doing with Poppy. After a brief pause, he raises hishead and looks at me, waiting for my answer. Fuck it. I’ll just tell him.

“It was from Poppy Reeves.”

My answer is so unexpected that his eyes widen in disbelief. “Why did she give you this? What did you fuck her or something?”

“No. Her old man left it behind when her parents split.”

“Does she know what it’s worth?”

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