Page 25 of Sixty Days Of Summer

I swear, if that fucker keeps mocking me about the stupid shit I did, he’s gonna feel my fury in the form of a fist. I shoot him a glare, but the asshole’s grin just gets wider. Yeah, keep smiling, dickhead. Next time you flash that grin, you’ll be missing a few teeth.

“Ace,” Xander says, pulling my attention away from Theo’s antics.

I turn back to him. “You can’t dodge the press forever, Ace. You’ve got to face them eventually.”

“Watch me,” I say, taking a swig from my water bottle.

“Don’t start with that shit. You’re going.” Xander’s eyes bore into me, making it clear I’ve pissed him off. “I’m out of here.”

With a scowl, I watch him make his way toward the door, my eyes locked on him until he vanishes from sight. I can’t tell if he’s mad because I refuse to talk to the media or if it’s a silent warning to stay the fuck away from Scarlet.

"Are you ready to learn another song, Scar?" Theo asks, breaking the tension.

"Yeah," Scarlet eagerly replies.

With headphones on, I’m in the studio, fully immersed in the music as I fine-tune our new album at the soundboard. Nearly an hour ago, Theo left to visit Nate at the hospital, leaving me alone with Scarlet. She’s still here, completely immersed in her practice, determined to master the next song, soaking up everything Theo and I have taught her.

As I watch through the glass, I can see her frustration building each time she misses a beat. The fiery determination in her eyes makes it clear that she expects nothing short of perfection.

I drop my head, determined to finish editing this album, knowing I need to stay focused. With meticulous care, I manipulate the buttons, adjusting the sound to achieve flawlessness, eliminating any imperfections, and seamlessly blending Xander’s voice with the music. I’ve got a feeling this album is going to be a hit with the fans—I just need to focus and finish it, blocking out the distraction of Scarlet in the next room. But every time I glance through the glass, watching her work,it’s harder to ignore that fire she’s got. She’s relentless, and it’s infectious.

For the next hour, I lose myself in the rhythm of the work—sliding buttons, cutting, and replacing tracks. The process is hypnotic, pulling me in deeper as I block out everything else. Time slips away as I fine-tune each detail, making sure every note hits just right and every lyric syncs perfectly.

I feel a dull ache in my neck and I stretch it out, just in time to see Scarlet hurling her drumsticks across the room, the sound of them crashing against the wall echoing through the air. Just like me, she’s been at it for hours, and the weariness is starting to show.

As I rub my eyes and stretch, I can feel the fatigue of the day settling into my shoulders. Scarlet’s frustration seeps into the room, pulling my attention away from the work. I push myself away from the soundboard, the chair gliding over the smooth tiles as I rise. Without a second thought, I move to enter the other room, ready to deal with whatever's got her so riled up.

Pushing the door open, I find Scarlet sitting there with her head in her hands; her face etched with a mixture of frustration and exhaustion. Her drumsticks lie scattered on the floor. It’s clear she’s been pushing herself hard.

“Hey,” I say, moving further into the room. “You’re doing great, you know. We can grab a drink or go over it again if you want.”

With a frustrated sigh, she brushes aside the stray strands of hair that have escaped from her messy bun. “Yeah, I could use a break,” she says.

Nodding, I turn around and make my way towards the door. Her footsteps echo as she follows closely behind me. Stepping out into the hallway, I steal a quick glance at her.

“Don’t stress too much. You’ll figure it out,” I say, trying to keep my tone casual, though the words barely mask theundercurrent of tension. “Just take a break and clear your mind.”

I move into the kitchen, feeling Scarlet’s presence close behind me, the air between us charged with something we’re both avoiding.

As I reach into the fridge and pull out a couple of beers, her proximity is almost intoxicating. I turn to face her, our eyes locking in a gaze that lingers a moment too long.

“Here?” I say, my voice coming out rougher than I meant.

As I hand her the bottle, our fingers brush lightly, and I feel a surge of electricity shoot through my body. Her eyes spark with a fire I can’t ignore, and for a moment, we just stand there, our gazes locked.

Like a shock of cold water, Xander’s warning snaps me out of the heat of the moment. I can’t go down that path. I take a step back, creating some distance, and with a twist, I remove the cap from my beer.

“So, umm,” I start, trying to ease the tension. My brain desperately searches for words, but comes up empty. Aside from Kit, I’m not used to just sitting down and talking with a woman. Normally, it’s a quick fuck and then I’m out of there. “So, what was your old band like?” I ask, hoping to find some common ground and dial down the electric charge between us.

The question lingers in the air, and I instantly regret asking it. The marks still on her face serve as a painful reminder of the abuse she endured from her ex. I see the flicker of pain in her eyes, and I curse myself for bringing it up.

"Good," Scarlet replies, her voice tense. "I loved being in a band, but things got messy when my ex, Beck, started screwing the other girl in the band—and all the groupies."

Awkwardness hangs in the air, making it feel heavy and stifling. Her eyes flicker down to her drink, and she absentmindedly runs her fingers along the cool, smooth surfaceof the bottle. The tension between us intensifies, causing my grip on my beer to tighten.

"Sounds like you're better off without that dickhead," I say, trying to lighten the mood, though the weight of her past still hangs in the air.

Scarlet’s eyes meet mine. “And what about you, Ace? You guys get to live your dream every day. Did you ever expect that to happen?”

---