Page 31 of Fame & Rhythm

“You couldn’t drink because you were too scared to after your kidney transplant,” I fire back. “News flash, dickhead, alcohol affects your liver, not your kidneys.”

“Jesus Christ, Annie, do you listen to Susan at all, or are you just being deliberately impossible?” Caleb asks, and the anger in me surges fast and hot.

“Fuck you, arsehole. I am not stupid. Just because I don’t know anatomy doesn’t make me dumb.”

“I didn’t call you dumb,” he says, his tone cool and infuriatingly calm. “I said you were stupid. There’s a difference. You make bad choices, then blow up when people call you on them. That’s what’s stupid.”

I huff and sit up, instantly reaching for the drip in my hand, ready to yank it out.

His eyes narrow. “And there you go again. The second things get real, you want to run instead of deal with it. You are proving my point with your actions.”

I freeze, then glare at him before dropping back against the pillows with a frustrated huff, folding my arms across my chest. “Shut up,” I mutter.

He shakes his head and crosses one ankle over his knee. “Annie, seriously, stop. Take a breath and understand that you are in deep shit, and that you did this to yourself. Stop blaming me, stop blaming everyone else, and start getting your head around what your Dad’s going to say. Right now, you need to rest, because you still look awful, and if Colt sees you like this, he’ll be even angrier. You’re pale as hell and still a little green.”

The fight drains out of me so quickly that it leaves something heavy behind. My anger sinks into a miserable, twisting knot in my stomach instead.

My eyes fill again, and my heart starts racing just thinking about Dad finding out. I wish Aston were here. He always makes everything feel less… overwhelming.

But then I remember he’s the reason I’m in this mess to begin with.

Even though a part of me wants to talk to him, I know I won’t. Not after what he did at the party. Not while I’m still this angry and confused.

“Caleb…” I say quietly.

He looks up. “Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

A grin spreads across his face. “That’s more like it. See? You can be normal when you try—”

“Don’t start that shit again, you—”

“You’re welcome, Annie,” he cuts in, stopping my next outburst before it can really get going.

I clear my throat, exhale, and give him a small nod, so he knows I get what he’s saying, even if I hate hearing it. The truth is, my moods are all over the place. No one ever knows when I’m going to go off, and half the time, neither do I. That’s the part that really sucks. Even while I’m yelling and carrying on, there’s always this little part of me watching it happen, knowing I’m overreacting, and afterward all I’m left with is guilt and embarrassment and no real idea why I’m like this.

Caleb pulls his phone from his pocket and starts scrolling, giving me space, or maybe just deciding I’m not worth engaging with right now.

Fair enough, too.

I know what I did was stupid. Trust me, I’m already paying for it with the way I feel. If this is what a hangover is like, then I never want to drink again. Not ever. I’m definitely not looking forward to Dad yelling or Mum giving me that disappointed look that somehow feels worse. And with my head pounding the way it is, the last thing I want is one of Dad’s lectures at full volume.

Exhausted from arguing, I sink deeper into the bed and let my thoughts drift back to Aston.

To the way his hand felt against my cheek.

To the way I looked into his eyes and, for just a second, felt like I could see right into him.

I know he wasn’t trying to hurt me, not deliberately, but he did, and I have no idea what any of this means for us now.

Does this mean we can’t be friends anymore?

Right now, it feels like maybe we can’t.

I can’t let him think there’s something there if there isn’t. The band has to come first. Relationships don’t matter, not now. I’m seventeen, for crying out loud. I’m way too young to be worrying about boyfriends, and I don’t even want one. Music is all that matters to me, and if Aston doesn’t understand that, then maybe I need to stay away from him.

That seems like the only sensible option.