Page 20 of Sixty Days Of Summer

“You’re really making a name for yourself, superstar,” she says playfully. “Remind me not to leave any cameras around.”

“You too,” I groan, the irritation in my tone hard to miss.

Scarlet stops right in front of me, her eyes locking onto mine. “Why? What do you mean?”

Taking a seat beside me, I find my gaze drawn to her elegantly long legs. The butterfly tattoo on the inside of her left ankle catches my eye—damn, I never noticed that before.How could you dickhead when you were too busy fucking her to give a shit about the details?

I try to divert my gaze, but it’s like resisting a magnet that pulls me closer.

“That dickhead, Theo, just ripped into me,” I mutter, tearing my eyes away from her legs. My gaze rests on my house. I should be in the studio, immersed in the music, fine-tuning our damn album, not sitting here, distracted by the girl next to me.

“That’s just how Theo is,” she says, dropping her bag beside her, before turning to face me. “Can I ask why you did it?”

I turn my head toward her, and at that moment, our eyes meet. Her intense green eyes captivate me, drawing myattention to the little things I’ve missed before—the tiny freckles on her nose, the subtle crease in her forehead, and those lips that still make me think about the time I felt them wrapped around my cock. But then my gaze lands on the bruises she’s desperately attempting to conceal, and I have to avert my eyes, consumed with anger at the thought that someone could cause her this much harm.

“No idea. I just lost it. I’m fucked up, Scarlet.”

“No, you’re not, Ace.”

“I am, Scarlet. You don’t even know how fucked up I am.”

“So what if you lost your shit in front of the cameras? It doesn’t mean you’re fucked up. Stupid, sure, for blowing up in front of the media when cameras are recording your every move,” she says, her voice light but serious. I glance at her, noticing the mischievous smirk playing on her lips before she leans in, playfully nudging my shoulder. “Nobody’s saying you’re fucked up, Ace. It’s just how you see yourself.”

“You have no idea,” I mutter, leaning back on the step. “My life’s been fucked up since I was a little kid.”

Her eyes narrow and she gives me a skeptical look, as if she doesn’t believe a word I’m saying. “I don’t think that’s true.”

"Oh, it is. My sister and my old man were just itching to walk out the door and never bothered looking back. My mother, well, she couldn’t give two shits about them or me. Didn’t give a shit who was putting their hands on me. It was like I was invisible to her, just another problem she didn’t want to deal with. I learned early on that I had to protect myself because no one else was going to do it for me.”

Pausing, I feel the weight of my words settle heavily on my chest. I’ve never shared this kind of shit with anyone, because it stings. It’s stings that even my own family couldn’t wait to get away from me. That I didn’t matter to anyone. Back in my old town, growing up, people threw their stones at me, branding meas fucked up and worthless. Those labels have clung to me, and I carry them like a goddamn badge of shame.

Scarlet’s words cut through my thoughts. “That doesn’t mean you’re fucked up, Ace. You were raised by messed-up people. That isn’t a reflection on you; it’s on them. I’ve watched Theo deal with the same thing all these years—how much it’s hurt him and how he grapples with his self-worth. His smart-ass attitude is just his way of coping.” Her hand reaches out and gently intertwines her fingers with mine. “But how you were raised is on them, not you. You couldn’t control that shit. They’re just selfish assholes who don’t give a damn about anyone but themselves. You’re better than that. You know it. Look at who you’ve become and what you’ve achieved, despite everything.”

Our eyes meet, and I can feel the sexual tension simmering between us, like a live wire ready to ignite. Her touch electrifies me, causing my eyes to wander over her lips, envisioning the sensation of them against mine. The air becomes heavy, carrying with it unspoken desires and lingering memories. The fire in her eyes reveals the same hunger, the battle to maintain composure.

“Scarlet...” I start, but the words catch in my throat as she leans in.

She bites her lip, but then swiftly retrieves her bag and stands up from the step. “I should go,” she says, her voice trembling slightly. She’s clearly needing to leave before things escalate even further.

“How’s Nate?” I ask, just as she is about to reach the door. The media frenzy has been relentless, making it impossible for me to find a moment to check on him today.

She turns to face me. “He’s doing better. He knows it’ll take a while to recover, but he’s handling it. His biggest concern is letting down the fans, just like I’m sure all of you are," she says, opening the door and walking inside.

I sit there, absorbing Scarlet’s words as they settle deep within me. Yeah, it’s not on me that my family is fucked up, but she doesn’t get how hard it is for me to let my guard down. People only see the version of me that’s locked down tight—walls up, no heart. I keep everyone at arm’s length because if anyone’s gonna bail, it’s gonna be me making the call. No way am I getting left behind again.

I push myself off the step, feeling the rough texture of the concrete beneath my hands, and head back inside.

As I step into the kitchen, the talk revolves around Nate. Scarlet pours herself a glass of juice while Xander and Theo sit at the table, surrounded by empty beer bottles.

As I move toward my seat, I avoid making eye contact with Scarlet, fully aware of Xander’s watchful eyes.

“Yeah, I’m about to go see him,” Theo says, shooting a quick look at Xander as I take my seat at the table. Xander gives him a nod. “Hey Scar, can you come over here for a sec? There’s something we need to discuss.”

With my back turned to Scarlet, I take a seat and direct my attention towards the empty beer bottle.

The sound of her heels clicking on the tiled floor fills the room, followed by the distinct sound of the fridge door opening and closing. Making her way to the table, she chooses the chair on the other side, positioning herself directly across from me. When I glance up, our eyes meet and linger for a brief moment before she averts her gaze towards Theo.

“What’s up?” she asks, taking a sip of her juice.

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