Page 75 of Sixty Days Of Summer

“Open your eyes,” he commands, his voice a deep growl. “When you come, you see who the fuck is getting you off.”

I obey, forcing my eyes open as he fucks me harder and harder, each thrust pulling more moans from me. Waves of ecstasy crash over my body, pushing me closer to the brink of something explosive. The need to surrender builds, an irresistible urge to let go completely.

But just when I think I might break, he suddenly slows, as if he wants to draw this moment out, not ready to chase his orgasm just yet. He leans in, pressing his lips to mine in a soft kiss, a stark contrast to the frantic desperation he had only moments ago. This kiss is warm and gentle, igniting a different kind of fire within me.

“God, you feel so fucking good,” he groans, his voice thick with lust as he watches me. His face hovers above mine as he fucks me slowly, and I catch a glimpse of something vulnerable in his eyes, something that tells me he’s letting me in.

And in this moment, I know I have to lay it all out. I can’t hold back any longer. I have to tell him how I feel. “I love you, Ace,” I whisper, my voice trembling with the weight of my emotions as my fingers trace his jawline.

I feel his body tense up the moment the words come out. He swallows hard and stops moving. A knot of doubt tightens in mychest as he turns his head away from me. Did I say something wrong? The look he was giving me moments ago has vanished, replaced by an expression I can’t quite read as his gaze comes back to me. I see it immediately—he’s pulling back, retreating, as if my words are too much for him.

He pulls out of me, and the sudden emptiness hits me hard. Sitting on the edge of the bed, Ace runs his hands through his hair. I move closer, placing a hand on his back as I lean forward to see his face.

“Ace, is everything alright?” I ask.

He remains silent. The conflict on his face and the uncertainty in his eyes are painfully clear, and it cuts me deep.

Theo was right. He’ll never love me—not in the way I love him. In a frenzy, he hastily reaches for his jeans and pulls them on while I watch, unable to do anything. I know exactly what’s coming next; he’s about to bolt, to run away from the words I just uttered—run away from me.

I pull the sheet up over my body, wrapping my arms tightly around my legs, trying to shield myself from the sudden emptiness that has settled in the space between us. The room feels colder now, as if the warmth we shared has vanished with his retreat.

Silence fills the room as he grabs his shirt and shoes, and I don’t dare say a word. He pauses at the door, casting one last, lingering glance my way. In his eyes, I catch the turmoil and uncertainty, a battle to understand my feelings. He seems lost, unsure of how to process what I’ve just said or how to respond to me in this moment.

Then, without uttering a single word, he turns and walks out, leaving me alone in the haunting quiet of the room, the weight of my unreturned love heavy in the air.

As the door clicks shut, a thick, almost suffocating silence wraps around me. I remain frozen, my gaze fixed on the spotwhere he stood just moments ago, desperately hoping he will come back. But deep down, I know he won’t.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but the tears still manage to escape, burning a trail down my cheeks. My chest tightens, and a sob escapes my throat, shaking my entire body. I curl tighter under the sheets, attempting to hold myself together, but it’s no use. The dam breaks, and I bury my face in the pillow, allowing the tears to flow freely.

I’ve never experienced this kind of ache before—this deep, soul-crushing pain that comes from loving someone who can’t love me back. And now, I’m alone in this room, surrounded by nothing but the haunting echo of my own heartbreak.

Chapter 27

Ace

Ihaven’t slept a damn wink. Scarlet’s words—“I love you”—are on a relentless loop in my head, refusing to let me rest. This shit just got real, a reality check I wasn’t ready for. I feel like the biggest asshole for just walking out, not saying a single word, not even a weak-ass attempt at a thank you. But what the hell do you say when someone lays it all out like that? When they actually tell you they love you. No one’s ever said that to me before—no one. And my first instinct was to bolt, to get the hell out of there as fast as I could. Fuck.

Rolling over in bed, I stare at the wall, fucking pissed at myself for treating her like that. The guilt’s gnawing at me,eating me alive. I can’t shake the image of her face as I walked out—hurt, confused, maybe even starting to hate me. And right now, I’m right there with her. I fucking hate myself for doing that, for leaving her when she didn’t deserve it.

Sitting up, I run my hands through my hair, trying to shake off the weight pressing down on my chest. I need to do something, anything that’ll drown out the mess in my head, but nothing seems to work. No matter what I do, her face keeps surfacing—those eyes, that raw look of vulnerability. It’s like she’s haunting me, and there’s nowhere I can go to escape it.

I should’ve stayed. I should’ve talked to her, explained how fucking confused I am. But no, I just left her there, exposed and vulnerable, while I ran like a damn coward.

The phone buzzes on the nightstand, and I find myself staring at it—half hoping it's her, half dreading that it might be. But it’s just a text from Kit, reminding us that we’re checking out of the hotel tonight. I toss the phone aside, ignoring it. I know I need to talk to her, but where do I even begin? What the hell do I say?

I sit on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on my knees, staring at the floor like it has all the fucking answers. The tour bus is going to be awkward as hell tonight if I don’t patch things up with Scarlet. There’s no way to avoid her on that cramped bus, and honestly, I don’t want to. I can’t run anymore. I need to face this, face her, and own up to the mistake I made by running away.

Dragging myself out of bed, I throw on some clothes, moving slowly, like I’m gearing up for a damn execution. Every step feels heavier than the last as I head out the door. The hallway outside my room is blindingly bright, too normal for what I’m about to face. My mind races, but all I can think about is what the hell I’m supposed to say to Scarlet. But no matter how hard I try, nothingcomes. Every excuse I run through in my head sounds weak as fuck, and I know I need to do better than that.

The moment I arrive at her door, my stomach tightens. I know I’ve got to do this, but I’ve no fucking idea of what to say. I stand in front of her door for a second, just staring at it, trying to pull my shit together. Then, before I lose my nerve, I knock. The sound echoes down the hallway, and I hold my breath, waiting.

Nothing.

I knock again, a little harder this time, but still—nothing. Maybe she’s avoiding me. Hell, I wouldn’t blame her if she was.

I stand there like a fool for a minute, feeling the weight of my mistakes, before finally turning and walking away.

As Xander steps out of his room, his gaze meets mine as I stand awkwardly in the hallway. His eyebrows furrow, and a deep frown forms on his forehead when he notices me.

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