Page 22 of Fame & Rhythm

Chapter Five

Annie

Age 17

The last four years have flown by, and the band has been practicing nonstop. We even recorded a demo album with fourteen original tracks, which still feels a little surreal when I think about it. Dad is ridiculously proud of us, so much so that he’s been talking with Rob Luxley, his agent, about getting us into live shows. We haven’t done any yet, but there’s already a decent amount of hype around Staked. People know we exist, know who we’re connected to, and because of that, the expectations are sitting somewhere in the stratosphere.

No pressure or anything.

Dad’s so excited that he decided to throw a massive party to celebrate. Apparently, my seventeenth birthday was the perfect excuse, which means I’ve somehow ended up at a swanky hotel surrounded by what feels like half the country—or at least half the entertainment industry.

Hundreds of people are here, all supposedly for me, yet the only ones I actually know are my family and the band. Everyone else is familiar in that distant, unreal way, like faces from a screen or voices from the radio. And even though this is technically my party, and there’s a mountain of gifts somewhere with my name on them, no one is really talking to me.

Not that I need the spotlight glued to me every second, but it’s a bit ironic to be the reason for the party and still feel like background noise.

Honestly, I would’ve been perfectly happy staying home with my family and Aston. A few movies, guitars scattered around the living room, junk food piled high—nothing fancy, just us. Instead, I’m picking at bite-sized food that looks impressive but barely tastes like anything, and wondering how something so tiny can still manage to miss the mark completely.

Stuff the fancy crap.

I should have ordered pizza.

The thought makes me smile as I glance back over the room. The party is in full swing now, everyone slipping easily into their roles. Ella is across the room chatting to some pop starlet, while Mum and Dad are deep in conversation with a famous actor and his equally famous wife. At the same time, their six kids run wild, as if they own the place. Caleb is working his charm on an heiress who made a name for herself with a makeup line that crashed and burned after an animal-testing scandal.

Which is ironic, considering she now claims to be an animal activist. Go figure!

That doesn’t seem to bother Caleb in the slightest. He’s twenty-three and fully convinced he’s God’s gift to women. I just shake my head, fighting a laugh.

On the other side of the room, Chad and his dad, Dingo, are going head-to-head on Guitar Hero, drums blazing across the big screen for everyone to see. They’re both completely in their own world, a little chaotic, a little clueless, but exceptionally talented. Chad’s just like his dad, spinning sticks and pulling off ridiculous tricks without missing one single beat.

I’m really glad he’s in the band.

A familiar tingle runs up my spine, subtle at first, then stronger, raising the hairs along my arms. Before I can turn, there’s a tap on my shoulder. I smile automatically, spinning around just as Aston ducks out of the way, forcing me to glance over my other shoulder.

He laughs at himself, then hops over the back of the red leather seat and drops down beside me.

“Having fun, Lennox?” he asks, flashing that easy grin that could probably light the entire room on its own.

“Not really,” I admit, and his brows pull together.

“What? Why not? This party’s awesome. Look at all these people. They came here for you.”

I let out a quiet scoff before I can stop myself. “They didn’t come for me. They don’t even know me. They’re here because Dad invited them, and because being seen here matters. Half of them probably couldn’t even tell you my name.”

He tilts his head slightly, considering that. “Okay… fair. But they’re still decent people. You could at least go say hi.”

“Nah, not my thing.” I lean back into the seat, glancing at him. “I’d rather be at home with you, watching a rerun of School of Rock.”

Aston huffs a laugh. “You have a weird obsession with that movie.”

“Don’t judge me.”

“Too late.” He reaches for my hand, lacing his fingers loosely through mine before lifting it and pressing a soft kiss to the back of it.

My eyes widen instantly.

The sensation hits hard and fast, a sharp, electric rush that shoots from my hand, up my arm, and into my chest. It’s like the usual awareness I have around him has been cranked up to a hundred, buzzing through me, making my heart slam against my ribs like it’s trying to break free.

What the hell was that?