Page 76 of Teach Me to Fly

“Let’s go,” he says.

The party is already unhingedby the time we get there. The first floor is packed wall-to-wall—music blasting, bodies swaying, laughter echoing off the floorboards and up the staircase. The air reeks of expensive cologne, sweat, and spilled liquor. Champagne fizzes in cups and onto the floor. Someone’s already dancing on the goddamn coffee table.

Terry steps in beside me and immediately whistles. “Jesus. He really threw one tonight.”

I spot Lando first, his shirt half-unbuttoned, curls damp from champagne, arms thrown around two people I don’t recognize as he grinds against someone else entirely. He’s glowing. Completely in his element.

When his gaze finds us across the room, he lights up like he’s just won the lottery.

“Teeerrrrryyyyy!”he screams, waving a hand and completely ignoring me.

Terry groans. “Oh my.”

Lando sprints across the room, wrapping himself around Terry with zero hesitation. “You came!” he squeals, breath sweet with alcohol. “You’re here! You didn’t tell me you were coming!”

Terry fumbles to steady him. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m celebrating,” Lando corrects, poking Terry’s chest. “We killed rehearsal today. That deserves a fucking parade.”

“You’re hot when you’re this chaotic,” Terry mumbles under his breath.

I shiver like someone poured cold water down my spine.

“Please,” I mutter. “Don’t say shit like that about my brother around me.”

Terry smirks. “What? Can’t picture him getting railed?”

“I said don’t.”

Terry just grins wider and holds up his hands in surrender, wandering off toward the kitchen with Lando. I scan the room again until I find Angelique standing near the window, one hand curled around a bottle of water, curls falling loose down her back, cheeks slightly flushed from the warmth and noise. Her dress is black and long, stopping loosely mid-shin, low in the back.

But she’s not alone. There’s a tall, tattooed, tanned guy standing a little too close, wearing a smug grin. His body’s angled toward her, leaning in when he talks, like everything he’s saying is some kind of secret. She’s not smiling, but she’s not walking away either.

I know that look. She’s being polite.

But he’s laying it on thick, and it makes my jaw twitch. I can feel it rising inside me—the possessiveness that doesn’t care if I’m being irrational or dramatic. All I know isthat guy does not know who he’s standing next to and he sure as fuck doesn’t get to look at her like that.

I thread through the bodies and noise, ignoring the way some random girl grabs my arm and slurs my name. I yank my hand free, keeping my eyes locked on Angelique, and when I reach her, I don’t introduce myself or make small talk.

I grab her by the waist, pull her in tight, and my mouth crashes against hers, deep and consuming as my tongue slides against hers like I’ve been starving for it. Her open bottle tilts dangerously in her hand, and I feel her breath stutter against my lips. Her hand finds my chest, fingers clutching the fabric, anchoring herself as she kisses me back.

By the time I pull away, her lips are parted, her breathing shallow, her eyes glazed with heat. I look past her, straight at the guy who was talking to her. He’s still standing here, watching us with an amused smirk. Like he knows I’m jealous, knows I couldn’t take it, knows I had to mark her in front of him just to sleep tonight. And he’s right.

I tighten my grip on Angelique’s waist and stare him down until he finally shrugs and turns away, disappearing into the crowd. Only then do I exhale and let myself look at her again.

“Where were you?” Angelique asks, still a little breathless from the kiss.

“Terry and I were at the bar,” I murmur. “I was pitching him my music… for the production.”

She pulls back just enough to see my face, her eyes going wide. “Seriously?”

A slow warmth spreads through my chest, filling allthe empty, cracked places. It’s the way she says it, like she’s proud. Like she believes in me, no hesitation.

I nod once, unable to stop the small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah.”

She smiles back, and it’s so genuine it almost knocks the air out of me. I lean in and press a quick kiss to her lips, just a soft, affirming touch, but we pull apart almost instantly when cold liquid splashes across her shoulder and chest.

She gasps, flinching, and I feel her body jerk in my arms. I look up to find Wendy standing in front of us, holding an empty cup, smug as hell.

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