Page 100 of Seven Lost Summers
“And this ray of fucking sunshine right here… That’s Ace,” he announces, voice full of mock reverence. “Big deal, apparently. Rockstar. Legend. God among men and all that bullshit. Also grumpier than a guy who discovered his favorite porn got scrubbed off the internet. Has the charm of a wet sock rotting in a gym bag. But hey, we still love him.”
Ace lets out a long, pained sigh, the kind that makes it sound as if Theo’s voice causes him physical discomfort.
“You done,” he mutters, “or should I grab a fucking mic so the whole neighborhood can hear your stand-up routine?” He lifts one brow.
Quinn presses her lips together, clearly fighting a smile.
Theo grins, completely unfazed. “Nah, man. You’re my muse. Trying to channel the raw magic of your sparkling fucking personality.”
Ace exhales, already over it. After that his gaze shifts to Quinn.
“Hey,” he says. “Welcome to the shitshow.”
“Thanks,” Quinn replies, stepping forward to shake his hand. “I hear you’re engaged to Scar.”
That’s the moment it happens.
Ace’s whole face shifts.
Not in a big way. He’s still Ace. Still got that permanent fuck-off look etched into every line of his face.
But something in him softens. The hard edge dulls. His jaw loosens. That sharp, coiled tension he wears as armor slips for half a second, enough to let something real show through.
His mouth twitches, not quite a smile, but fucking close. Closer than most ever get. For a moment, he looks younger. Calmer. Fucking happy. He always changes when someone mentions Scarlet.
I was wrong about him.
About them.
Back when I found out they were hooking up, I thought he was another selfish bastard. Thought he was using her. Thought it would crash and burn, leave her gutted. But now I see it. Every time her name comes up, he softens in ways I didn’t think he could. Turns out, she doesn’t merely matter to him. She’s the only thing that does.
“Yeah,” he says, and the pride in his voice is impossible to miss. “Scar said you two used to hang out when you were younger.”
“Yeah,” Quinn nods, shifting her camera strap higher on her shoulder.
Theo’s already grabbing his bass, sliding into place without hesitation. I move toward my drumkit, drop onto the stool, and grip the sticks.
Everything’s still for a second. Quiet. After that, Ace starts playing, the kind of guitar work that hits more as a warning than a melody.
It’s different. Jagged, fucked up in the best way. More chaos than control. The kind of sound that punches you in the ribs and leaves a bruise you can’t stop pressing on.
Ace nods toward me, gives me the rough shape of the beat. No drawn-out explanation. No slowing down to make it easier. Only the bare bones and a glare that says, keep the fuck up.
I fuck it up the first time. Miss the cue. My timing’s off. Doesn’t matter. I don’t stop. I grit my teeth and hit again. Harder. My whole body locked in, chasing the rhythm down as if it owes me something.
The second run comes out stronger.
On the third, I hit it right. It slides into place, not perfect, but close enough to catch the rush of it. The crash, the pulse, the weight of every sound. I don’t even notice when I stop thinking. The rhythm takes over. My hands move on instinct, every beat crawling through my veins and setting shit on fire.
Theo drops into sync with me.
Xander starts humming under his breath, pacing, eyes closed, already hearing the finished version in his head before the rest of us even get close. It’s loud, dirty, and raw. And everything about it lands so fucking good.
The room shifts.
Not in a big way.
Just this slow tightening beneath the surface, the kind that creeps into your chest before your head even catches up. The energy pulls taut, every sound snapping into place.
