Page 48 of Sixty Days Of Summer

Glancing at the clock on the wall, I notice that two hours have passed without him moving. His arm remains tightly wrapped around my waist, while his face stays nestled close to my neck. His phone has buzzed twice, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s Kit trying to reach him, likely checking in after what happened during the interview.

A gentle knock shatters the stillness of the room. I glance at Ace, who remains undisturbed, his breathing steady and deep, his arm warm and heavy around my waist. Carefully, I slide his arm to the side and shift my body, gently returning his arm to its place on the bed. He stirs slightly but doesn’t wake. There is a second knock, this time more insistent.

Quietly, I tiptoe across the room, feeling the plush carpet under my feet, as I reach for the door. As I open it, Theo stands there, his face etched with concern. With a finger pressed against my lips, I gesture for him to be quiet, then take a step back, letting him in.

Closing the door behind me, I turn around to find Theo standing there, his eyes locked on Ace. The look on his face tells me he senses something is going on between us.

Gently, I reach out and place my palm on his chest, hoping to grab his attention. His dark eyes lock onto mine, searching foranswers. “Theo,” I say softly, “it’s not what you think. Just let me explain.”

“Did he fuck you?” Theo demands, his jaw tight and his gaze hard.

“No,” I reply firmly, “he didn’t. We never had sex. Something happened today during the interview and he was spiraling. He got lost in his head, just like you do sometimes. I was just trying to help him calm down, like how Nate helps you.”

He nods, letting out a breath, and his expression visibly relaxes. "Is he okay," he asks, glancing back at Ace.

“For now, yes,” I whisper. “The interview didn’t go well. They started asking Ace some really personal questions, and it turned into a mess.”

Theo’s brows furrow in concern. “What kind of questions?”

I take a deep breath, weighing how much to share. But knowing these guys, they probably have some sense of Ace’s struggles. “They dug into his past. It mostly revolved around his relationship with his mother.”

Theo’s jaw tightens. “Fucking assholes.”

It’s clear how much Theo cares for Ace, despite how often they get under each other’s skin. Beneath all their bickering and tough exteriors, there’s a bond that runs deep.

He glances at me, then wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me into a protective hug. “Just look after him,” he says softly. “But Scar, if he crosses a line or tries anything, I won’t hesitate to knock the asshole out cold.”

I give him a small smile, knowing full well that if he or Nate ever found out what’s already gone down between Ace and me, they’d lose it. The last thing I want is to get caught in the middle of their brotherhood. But the way I feel about Ace—how deeply I care—it scares me more than anything.

“I’ll check in later,” Theo whispers. With barely a sound, he slips out of the room, closing the door behind him, and leaving me alone in the silence.

My gaze drifts back to Ace. He’s still out to it, the tension from earlier nowhere to be found. It’s rare to see him like this—so peaceful, almost vulnerable. His light brown hair falls over his forehead, tousled, and I watch his chest rise and fall gently with each breath. I wonder what he’s dreaming about. Has he finally found a moment of peace, or are those demons still haunting him, even in his sleep?

I pull my eyes away and walk over to the chair by the window, sinking into it slowly. Sunlight filters through the curtains, casting the room in a warm glow. I reach for my phone and begin scrolling through my feed. Yet, I find my gaze drifting back to Ace every now and then. Even in sleep, he still manages to hold a part of me captive.

Chapter 17

Ace

Another day, another city. We’ve left San Francisco behind, the first leg of the tour wrapped up, and now we’re all crammed onto the bus, heading toward Salt Lake City.

I haven’t said a word to Scarlet about what happened the other day. I have no idea how to bring it up because I never wanted her to see me for the broken asshole I really am. When I woke up, I just lay there for a moment, watching her, taking in her beautiful face. But as soon as she sensed my eyes on her and looked over, I just had to get out of there. I’ve never let my guard down like that with anyone before, but somehow, lying next toher on that bed calmed me, and pulled me out of my head. And for the first time, it felt like I could finally breathe.

Xander and Kit ripped me a new one when they found out I bailed in the middle of that interview, leaving Scarlet to fend for herself. But from what I’ve heard, she handled it like a fucking pro. Especially when that prick threw a question at her about my past, asking if she knew whether the rumors were true.

Xander and Kit agreed that it’s best if I avoid the media and just focus on the tour. Honestly, I’m relieved. Xander knows how relentless the media can be once they sink their teeth into something, and he knows how this shit messes with my head. I can’t go back there. I’m not opening up to anyone, and I sure as hell won’t let the world see that side of me. But still, I can’t help but wonder what bullshit story they’ll spin.

While the rest of the band is asleep in the back of the bus, it’s just me and a bottle of whiskey holding down the fort. I take a long swig from the bottle, letting the burn settle in my throat—a reminder that I can still feel something, even if it’s just the sting. Setting the bottle aside, my fingers dance over the strings of my guitar as I work through a few riffs. There’s something here, a sound that might be the perfect fit for what Xander’s been working on, but I keep pushing it, chasing after the right note.

After the third attempt at tweaking the tune, goosebumps rise on my skin. I don’t need to turn around to know she’s there; I can feel her presence like a shift in the air. It happens every time she’s near, this strange, electric current that surges through me. A feeling I’ve never experienced before, and it’s fucking with my head. Maybe it’s because she’s the one girl who’s completely off-limits—the one I should never have touched in the first place. Back in the day, if someone told me I couldn’t have or do something, I’d prove them wrong. Maybe that’s why I’m like this around her—it’s that defiant part of me, always craving what I can’t have.

I keep my head down, strumming a few strings, trying to focus, as she makes her way towards the kitchen area at the front of the bus. I steal a quick glance at her as she stands before the fridge, staring into it like she’s not sure what she wants. She bites her bottom lip, and it drives me fucking wild. My eyes trace over her — that tight t-shirt revealing the bare curve of her hips and lower back, those damn dimples on either side of her spine, and those tight sleep shorts that hug her ass just right.

A surge of desire hits me like a tidal wave, my body reacting, cock throbbing with need. All I can think about is being back inside her, feeling her squirm beneath me, hearing those sexy noises she makes, and getting lost in the smell of her skin. What is it with her? Guys like me don’t get attached. We get our dicks wet, and then we move on. But with her, it’s different. It’s like every time I touch her, I’m hooked deeper. I crave more than just the physical, more than just a quick fuck.

Holding a bottle of water and a tub of yogurt, she closes the fridge. As she turns around, I force my eyes back to the guitar, determined to focus on the music. Being trapped on this bus, with her mere inches away at all times, is pure torture. Her perfume lingers in the air, its sweet and addictive fragrance impossible to ignore. It’s as if every part of her is designed to fuck with my head. My fingers stumble over a few strings, and I have to bite back a curse.

I fight the urge to glance at her, trying to keep my shit together, even though all I want is to turn around, grab her, and take what I know I shouldn’t want.

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