Page 34 of Sixty Days Of Summer

As I take a deep breath and look up, my rhythm stumbles the moment I spot Ace standing in the doorway, casually leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes, intense and burning with an almost predatory gaze, send a shiver down my spine. The air crackles with an undeniablecharge between us, that makes it nearly impossible for me to maintain a steady rhythm.

Despite the distraction, I push through, but his piercing gaze makes it difficult to concentrate. Every beat I play feels scrutinized, and I exert all my focus to resist the magnetic pull he exudes. Determined not to let him affect my performance, I lower my head, attempting to shield myself from the intensity of his gaze, which seems to trace my every movement.

But even with my eyes down, I can sense him moving closer, the subtle shift in the air signaling his approach. My heart pounds, the rhythm of the drums syncing with the rapid thumping in my chest. I can’t let this moment break me; I refuse to be distracted by the chaos he brings into my head.

When the song ends, I sit there, sweaty and breathless, reluctant to look up. After taking a few deep breaths, I finally lift my head. Ace strides over to the far wall, grabs two bottles of water, and starts making his way back toward me. His eyes move over me and the desire to feel his hands on my body is overwhelming.

“You’re really getting it now,” he says, handing me a bottle.

I take the bottle from him, remaining silent, still pissed about the way he’s been totally avoiding me.

Ace sits down on the nearby step, unscrews the lid, and takes a long drink. As he tilts his head back, I can’t help but watch the way his throat moves as he swallows. Just as he lowers his head, I avert my gaze and focus on opening my own bottle.

“You should have said you were coming,” Ace says. “I would have jammed with you.”

After taking a quick sip from the bottle, I replace the lid, trying my best to maintain my composure. “I just wanted to make sure I had it right,” I reply, leaning forward to set the bottle down near my feet.

“Theo mentioned Nate’s coming home tomorrow,” Ace continues, catching me off guard. It’s unusual for him to engage in small talk, especially considering his recent behavior.

“Yeah,” I respond, confused as to why he’s talking to me now after avoiding me for so long.

“Listen, Scarlet,” Ace says, his tone suddenly serious. When I lift my head to meet his gaze, our eyes lock for a brief moment before he looks away. “When we get out on tour, the press can be real assholes. You saw how they were the other day. That comment they made was fucked up.”

I look away, fumbling with the drumsticks in my hands. “It’s cool, Ace. It’s no different from the crap people usually say. I’m used to it.”

Even though I’m not facing him, I can feel the weight of his gaze, penetrating and intense. “I just want you to know,” he continues, his voice steady and unwavering, “that no matter what they write or say, Xander and I wouldn’t have brought you into the band if you weren’t up to the standard. This is a big deal for us—the first tour under our new label. So it wasn’t handed to you just because of Nate. I want you to remember that, no matter how much those fuckers keep spouting their bullshit. They’ll twist things to make headlines, and half of it isn’t even true.”

Nodding, I feel a slight release of tension, like a burden lifted. “Thanks, Ace. It means a lot to hear that.”

He nods in acknowledgment, then his eyes sweep across the room. After a moment, he stands and makes his way towards his guitar. “You want to go over some songs together?” he suggests, his tone more relaxed.

“Before we do that, can I ask you something?” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. I’m not usually this straightforward, but it feels important to bring it up.

“Yeah,” he replies, his eyes locked on the guitar as he slips the strap over his head and adjusts it on his shoulder. When I remain silent, his attention shifts back to me.

“Can I ask why you’ve been avoiding me?” I ask.

I catch a flicker of surprise on his face, and I see him swallow hard. His gaze drops to his guitar as he fiddles with the neck. “It’s just easier that way, Scar,” he says.

“Easier, how?” I press.

He lets out a deep breath, clearly reluctant to answer my question. “It just is, that’s all,” he says, his tone abrupt as he shifts the topic. “Now, are you ready to go through the set?” His gaze remains fixed on his guitar, avoiding mine, as if the instrument provides a shield against the conversation.

Ace’s fingers effortlessly pluck a few strings on his guitar, the sharp and crisp sound instantly snapping me back to reality. As he counts us in, I shift my focus to the task at hand, ready to dive into the work. With each beat, I remind myself to push aside the confusion and channel my energy into the music.

Like everyone else, I am excited to finally have my brother home. Theo and I hang up colorful balloons, filling the room with a festive atmosphere, while Poppy expertly bakes a mouthwatering welcome home cake. Ace and Xander take charge of the beers and have a ton of pizzas delivered. However, it’s difficult to overlook the peculiar feeling of seeing my brother in such a broken state. I can see it in his eyes; he absolutely hates being like this. He’d give anything to be a part of the tour, doing what he loves—being on stage in front of thousands of fans, feeling their energy.

As we sit around the table, surrounded by leftover pizza and cake, I can feel Ace’s gaze on me. Each time I catch him looking, he quickly shifts his eyes away, as if it’s an instinctive reaction, which leaves me feeling both frustrated and confused. What the hell is going on with him? Why the hell won’t he make eye contact? It’s getting harder and harder to overlook the mounting tension between us, and it’s driving me insane. I want to bridge whatever gap has formed between us, but it feels like I’m stuck in a game I don’t understand, with rules that constantly elude me.

At the table, everyone’s eyes are fixed on Alex. He sits on Xander’s lap, leaning forward, his elbows on the table as he enthusiastically shares his recent adventures with a woman he lovingly refers to as GG.

Glancing around the table, I can feel the love and warmth emanating from everyone towards this little boy. It’s truly a beautiful sight. I catch Theo’s radiant smile and Nate’s joyful grin, both of them wearing expressions of pure contentment. Despite everything Theo has been through, there is a genuine happiness that radiates from him. Seeing him and Nate like this fills me with a profound sense of peace.

With my eyes back on Alex, Nate’s hand reaches out to take mine, giving it a comforting squeeze. It’s a gesture he’s done countless times over the years. I give him a smile, attempting to conceal the whirlwind of anxiety brewing within me. Worries about making mistakes, becoming a headline for the wrong reasons, and confirming others’ doubts plague my thoughts.

Nate doesn’t let go of my hand. Instead, he turns his attention back to Alex, who is animatedly recounting a trip to an animal sanctuary. Nate’s thumb glides softly over the back of my hand, offering a comforting touch that calms my anxiety and anchors me in the moment. As the conversation shifts to the upcoming tour, I see a spark of excitement illuminate Aceand Xander’s expressions. They eagerly talk about the sold-out stadiums and the thrill of performing live.

Meanwhile, I try to zone out, pushing away the nerves about stepping into the spotlight. The sound of my name brings me back to reality in an instant. As my eyes lift, I feel the weight of everyone’s attention focused solely on me.

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