Page 27 of Fame & Rhythm

The cool air outside will help.

It has to.

And if there’s anyone I can turn to right now, it’s Caleb.

I stumble toward the door, trying my best to look sober, which I’m fairly sure I’m not pulling off. Someone bumps into me along the way, sending me crashing into a table and knocking a few glasses to the floor. The people around it stare, but I mumble something that might be an apology and keep going.

When I finally push through the doors, I spot Caleb outside making out with the heiress, and for some reason, it is the funniest thing I’ve ever seen.

I start laughing.

The cool night air hits my skin and feels incredible, and as I wipe the sweat from my brow, I try to hurry toward him, but my feet have other ideas. I stumble straight into the heiress, knocking her into Caleb so their heads crack together.

I hit the ground laughing.

Caleb and the heiress both clutch their heads.

“Jesus Christ, Annie. What the fuck?” Caleb snaps, sounding furious, which only makes me laugh harder. Then I do the most unladylike hiccup ever.

He looks down at me, eyes narrowing. “What’s wrong with you?”

I giggle and shrug.

“Shit! Annie, are you drunk?”

I shake my head, which is a terrible idea because the world immediately tilts, and my stomach surges into my throat. I gag.

Caleb scrubs a hand over his face. “For fuck’s sake. I need to get you out of here before someone gets a photo.”

That idea is weirdly hilarious to me.

The drunk daughter of rock royalty. Honestly, iconic.

He bends and scoops me up, and I loop my arms around his neck while he presses a quick kiss to the heiress’s cheek. “Rain check?” he asks.

She nods, glancing at me with a smirk.

“I drink your stole!” I announce, then immediately crack up at my own mangled words.

Caleb blinks. “What?”

The heiress bursts out laughing while Caleb stares at me in complete confusion. “You stole her drink?”

“Nooo, I said I drank her stole.”

Caleb rubs his forehead. “Jesus Christ.”

The heiress shakes her head, still smiling. “You should probably look after her, Caleb.”

I swing my arms outward, feeling the freedom of the night air around me.

“Jesus, Annie, stay still,” he mutters, tightening his hold as he takes me through the back exit toward his car.

“Weee… I’m flying,” I sing, flinging my arms out as Caleb carries me away.

“You’re not flying. You’re drunk.”

I gasp dramatically. “I’m sparkly.”