I Wanna Be Yours (Arctic Monkeys Fanfiction) UPDATED VERSION

16 | Blood Alcohol

Something buzzed in my pocket. Was it my nerves? Probably. So I leaned over the bar counter and asked for another shot to calm them again!

The mixologist kindly informed me that the buzzing was from my phone, so I picked it up and brought it to my ear. "Hello?"

It was nagging old Collin. "You're late! Where are you?"

"Chill. Out for a drink, had to calm the nerves."

"Christ. Please tell me it's the bar at the hotel."

I nodded, but realized he couldn't see it. "Yeah."

"I'm sending Alex to come get you, but the rest of us have to get to the studio immediately. You better not be drunk, Ms. Greene."

The mixologist sets down the—the fifth? Sixth, maybe—shot in the past half hour. I down it and set the glass down harder than I meant to. "I'm not!"

"What was that?" His voice raised in pitch. "Nevermind, I don't want to know. Stay put and stay sober."

I clicked the phone off. Buzzkill.

The bartender and I discussed my tab and before I knew it, I saw a recognizable face saunter up to me, his shoulders visibly relaxing as he neared.

"Ally, my boy, how're you doing?" I waved, twisting in the barstool. "This interview thing has been killing me the entire morning. Sit down."

A smirk crawled on his face, but he gave a short laugh and leaned against the bar counter. "God, you're absolutely smashed. Collin will be pissed."

"You know what would be really funny: if the prick did piss himself. It'd serve him right for making me do all these things I never wanted to do. I mean, he didn't even prep me for the interview! I'm going to mess up in front of all of America. What am I going to do?"

"Nothing yet, I'll figure out something," Alex mumbled, shaking his head. He cursed and paid the bartender for the drinks, assuming I hadn't already paid. He was right though, I guess. Alex helped me up and out from the bar.

I couldn't stop giggling as he helped me into the passenger seat of the car and closed my door. I truly was going to be everybody's laughing stock. Maybe I should go back and have a seventh shot. "Where are we going?"

Alex slammed his door and turned on the car, taking off the parking brake. "The interview? Remember? Leah, you seriously got to sober up. I don't want you to do anything you'll regret."

"Okay, Ally." I look at his white knuckles on the wheel and kick my feet on the dash. He had a great profile, from the way he leaned in his seat, the slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw. Actually, I was afraid that I wouldn't ever do the thing I'd regret. He just wants me gone.

"Just," Alex relaxed his fingers, "promise me you'll listen to the questions, and remember what we memorized. Don't say anything too personal. Be serious. And don't call me Ally."

"I'm very serious!" I blew a piece of hair from my face. "So serious, you should call me overdue taxes. Now, let's go watch me embarrass my ass off."

The television interviewer named Marty had slicked blonde hair, a navy suit, and circle glasses. He sat us down on our own red velvet chairs and shook my hand. "Nice to meet you. Sorry we didn't have the chance to talk before this. We're on air in thirty seconds."

Matt gave me a thumbs-up from backstage. A light flickered above me. The producers and cameramen already made me nervous, let alone knowing that there were people inside of the camera. Well, not really inside, although that would be quite amusing—