Page 6 of Five Summers

“Some new boyfriend. I swear the dipshit intentionally does it to fuck with me.” He slams his foot on the accelerator. The car races down the street. “One of these days, I would love to get back at these fucking assholes.”

“Where are we going?” I ask.

“I don’t fucking know, but anywhere is better than here. When I get back, if that asshole's car is still there, then I’m gonna key it. Let's see how much that jerkoff enjoys parking there, then.”

Ace is fuming. And when he gets all mad and starts stewing over things, I always distract him. Try to make him focus on other shit. Just like any brother would do.

“Hey, I worked on some lyrics last night.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking over at me.

“How about we head to the lake and work on them?”

It seems like what I said made a difference. His shoulders seem more at ease. His grip on the steering wheel loosens. That’s what music does to us. It helps us get in a better mindset, shaking off all the crappy things that come our way. But sometimes with Ace when he’s so worked up, it’s still not enough.

“Yeah. We can do that.” He tosses a glance in my direction. “But you should know that I’m texting Jade to see what she’s doing. If she gives me the green light, you're on your own, or you can come along if you want.”

The fastest way for him to stop overthinking is to hook up. He’s always been this way. I knew once we made it to the lake, he'd message Jade anyway, to see what she was doing. In the past, I'd occasionally join him, and we'd fuck her together, but today I'm not feeling up for it. Jade's getting a bit too clingy, and I need to put some space between us.

Chapter three

Xander

Itotally called it. Before I even grabbed my guitar, Ace had already texted Jade to hook up. Can't say I'm surprised that Jade agreed to that. I swear, that girl is always craving attention and has more action than a college frat boy.

“So, what's the deal now?” Ace asks, making a U-turn and getting back on the street. “You can tag along if you're up for it. You know she's down for whatever. Remember the last time?”

“Yeah,” I say, remembering how we totally railed her. And the time before that, I snapped a pic on my phone of her on her knees while Ace and I were fucking her. And how every time the bitch pouts when it’s time for us to bail.

I glance at my phone to check the time when Ace turns into my street. It’s only four in the afternoon.

“You sure you don’t want to join us?”

“Nah, I’m good. My old man will still be at work, and then he'll hit the bar, so I'll just relax for a bit and maybe do some writing. But don’t sweat it. You can still ditch my ass for some pussy.”

“Pussy always comes out on top. You know that,” he says pulling up in front of my house.

“Yeah, I'm aware of that. I'm outta here. See you tomorrow!” I lean forward and snatch my guitar from the backseat, then slam the door.

“Catch you later, fucker!” Ace yells, driving away with the windows down.

I stand there for a few seconds, watching him drive down the street until he disappears around the corner. I move down the front path to my house. The paint's all chipped and the yard's full of wild weeds. Unlike all the immaculate houses on this street, all adorned with fresh coats of paint and neatly manicured gardens. Our house used to be just like all the other houses on this block, but that was when Mom was still around.

With a sigh, I trudge up the broken path. I feel a sense of calm as I look at the empty house. The peaceful silence makes me feel at ease because I know my dad won't be here to hurt me with his fists or criticize me for a while.

The front door creaks a little as I push it open. Despite my father’s absence, the air is heavy with the overpowering blend of whisky and cigarettes. It's possible that the stench is from all the empty bottles lying around or the overflowing ashtrays. I shut the front door, casting a quick glance towards the lounge. The dent on the couch shows how many nights he's crashed there, too wasted to make it to his room. It’s become his domain now,as if he’s eagerly awaiting any opportunity to unleash his anger. To remind me once again how small and worthless I am.

Walking down the hall, I glance at the many holes in the drywall my dad has made. Each hole tells a story, a testament to his anger and frustration. The sight of them serves as a constant reminder of the tumultuous moments that have unfolded between us. All the emotions, the hate, and the scars he’s left behind.

I enter my bedroom and dump my satchel and guitar on the bed. Then, I eagerly snatch my beloved, worn-out notebook. Its once flawless pages are now a mess of scribbles and thoughts. The ink, slightly smudged from countless entries, tells tales of creativity and inspiration. With my calloused fingers on the guitar strings, I let the music take over and write the next set of heartfelt lyrics.

When I finally sneak a peek at the clock, I'm shocked to see that nearly three hours have gone by without me knowing. The fading sunlight casts eerie shadows, transforming the room.

I put my guitar on the bed, feel a rumble in my stomach, and head towards the front door. Knowing there's nothing to eat in the cupboards, I stick to my usual routine. Every night, I venture two blocks down to the nearby 7-Eleven, where I swipe something to satisfy my hunger.

As soon as I take a step out of the house, loud voices assault my ears, causing me to freeze in place. I'm completely drawn in by the intense scene happening at the house two doors down. Poppy Reeves’s voice slices through the air, every word tinged with frustration.

“Oh my god, will you please just stop already?” Poppy shouts, walking down the path towards the gate in front of her house.

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