"You're no fun," they'd said. "Let your hair down."

"You're too uptight," they'd said. "Let loose."

"You don't know how to relax," they'd said.

She huffed. The thing was... they were absolutely right. She'd had to be serious and responsible for such a long time that somewhere along the way she'd forgotten how to, well, not be.

Assistant to the Tour Manager was a demanding job. And because she took her job seriously, Tom Brooks, her boss, had given her more and more responsibilities: she made sure she knew where all band members were at all times, what they were doing. She got them to the venue on time, helped manage the transportation of the instruments and PA systems, and oversaw the installation on-site. She organised the meet and greets, after parties. She helped sort out any issues with the venues, the travel arrangements. She made sure the band had escape routes when fans swarmed entrances. She made sure they turned up to interviews, that they ate well and were safe and happy.

She knew the things they had said were uttered in jest. But they still stung. Because they were correct.

So here she was, on a Friday night, in a club. She'd told them she'd show them they were wrong. That she could have fun, be fun.

Honestly, she was winging it. She assumed getting drunk would be a good start. She did enjoy a nice glass of wine or two occasionally. But the last time she'd been flat out drunk must have been when she had just started college. It seemed to be the last time people had thought she was fun, too.

She'd worked out a schedule: hit the bar by 11pm (after she'd finished work), be drunk by midnight, dance a little, have fun and be in bed by 1am. That would still get her a solid 5 hours of sleep before she had to get up again. A fool proof plan.

What did one drink these days? She'd seen people do shots enough times, but just the mere smell of it was so repulsive she had to suppress a gag.

Her research online had shown that Vodka was essentially tasteless (also she wouldn't reek of it the next day, another plus), therefore wouldn't make her gag, and also least likely to give her a hangover the next day - and there were a million things to do which she needed a clear head for, otherwise Tom would fire her.

Vodka sounded like her new best friend. She decided to drink it straight. Best save some time as well and maybe she'd get home half an hour earlier than planned. Bonus.

Unfortunately though, she couldn't have fun in peace. She had just downed her fourth shot. The burning in her mouth and throat had ceased and her eyes didn't water anymore. That's when they all popped up next to her.

They were talking way too much, and by then she found it hard to follow their conversations. But they seemed happy with her. As if she was one of them. And no one teased her. She felt good. This was fun, right?

Of course Shannon had to spoil it.

That grumpy face just had to come and rain on her parade. Not enough that he made her life miserable most of the time. His face was a permanent scowl when he looked at her. It was pretty clear that he didn't like her in the slightest.

He put his hand on hers when she wanted to take another shot. "Maybe slow it down a little, sweetheart. Get some water in you, too."

Tingles shot up her arm from where he touched her. He never did. All the other guys were quite huggy and handsy, and so was he - but not with her. No, Shannon avoided her like the plague. It would have been amusing, really, if it didn't sting, just how much out of his way he went to not be near her, talk to her, look at her.

She shook her head, trying to rid herself of fun-spoiling thoughts. She knocked the shot back.

"Water's for losers. I'm letting my hair down. See?"

She pulled the hairband from her ponytail just to make a point and raised her chin up at him in a challenge.

The guys laughed. They all got how fun she was being.

But not Shannon.

The muscles in his jaw clenched as his eyes flickered to her hair and then back to her. She swallowed dry. It suddenly felt very hot in this place.

Drink, she needed another drink. The bartender gave her a questioning look, but she pouted at him and fluttered her eyelashes. It worked when all the other girls did it on the guys. She'd seen it a hundred times. Worked a treat on the bartender, too. He complied. She knocked it back, the glass hitting her teeth a little. She felt some drops miss her mouth and drip down her throat, disappearing under her blouse.

"Pants!" she gasped at the feeling of the cold liquid on her skin. She opened a few buttons, her hand clasped around a napkin. She looked up and saw Shannon staring at her.

Cool girls didn't clean themselves up with napkins.

"You know what, sod it," she said and wiped the spirit off with her finger. Then she brought it to her mouth and licked it off. Surely that was something a fun, super chilled out girl would do.

She could hear him breathe in harshly and she looked up at him, finger still in her mouth. He looked like he was awfully hot. A muscle was twitching in his jaw.

"Atta girl!" someone cheered her on. She had no clue who it was, it was getting a bit difficult to distinguish voices.

Suddenly her eyes grew big. "Whoo! That's my favouritestes... I bloody love this song!"

She hopped off the barstool and made her way to the dance floor. The loud bass was cursing through her body. How long had it been since she danced like that? It seemed a lifetime ago.

Her eyes fluttered close as she submitted completely to the rhythm of the beat. Her body was moving, her hips suddenly seemed so much looser - she was a fucking dancing queen. This was awesome.

She opened her eyes when she felt hands on her. Soft, small hands. Feminine hands. A very beautiful red haired woman in a very, very naughty dress caressed her face then let her hand glide down over her chest, grazing her breast, before her hand splayed on her tummy. Someone liked her! She gave her a smile, the beauty smiled back, licking her lips.

She'd never danced with a woman before. Her girlfriends, yes, but not like that. Proper body contact dancing. Grinding and such. It felt a little daring. This was letting loose, right?

She turned in the beauty's arms, slowly moving her hips in what she thought was a sexy manner. She looked up, straight into very familiar pools of hazel. They were awfully dark tonight though. Maybe the lighting in the club?

She felt another pair of hands on her. A bloke was grinning down at her.

"Hey girls, can I join?"

She liked sandwiches. Really, really did. Nothing better than a BLT in her humble opinion. Human sandwiches? Not so much her thing. She put her hands on his chest, trying to keep him at a distance, whilst the beauty was still running her hands up and down her body. The guy bent his head as if to kiss her. He smelt of alcohol. She wrinkled her nose.

"I think that's enough," a deep voice to her left suddenly growled. Growled?

She lifted her head to see Shannon shooting a really nasty look at the guy. The bloke put up his hands and backed away.

Her hand suddenly was engulfed in a big, warm one. "Come on, time to go."

She shook her head. "No, I'm havin' fun, lettin' loose, hair down'n'all." She frowned at her tongue feeling so heavy.

"You made your point, now let's go." He sounded so stuck up. He really needed to relax a little.

"You need to meet my friend," she said, poking her finger in his chest.

"We all saw you with your 'friend'. A right show that was."

She followed his gaze behind her. Beauty was still holding onto her.

"Not that one," she shook her head. "My bestie. Vodka. Less get you akwinded."

"This one's had enough for one night, if you'll excuse us," he said to Beauty, pulling on her hand.

She resisted and turned to her new friend. "Sorry, grumpy wants to me to go."

Then she leaned forward and placed a kiss on the woman's cheek. Whoops. Bad aim. Landed on the mouth. She giggled.

With a firm tug she found herself being pulled away from Beauty. She waved at her.

"Aw, Beauty looks sad."

Anyways, on to introducing Shannon to Vodka. He would like Vodka. Maybe it'd make him like her, too. He was always so grumpy to her.

"Hey, the bar's over there!" she shouted at him over the music, when he marched her right past it and towards the exit.

"That's the wrong way," she tried again, but Shannon stubbornly walked out the door, onto the pavement and flagged a taxi down.

The cold night air was like a slap in the face. "Whoa," she said, suddenly feeling wobbly. "Why's everything spinning?"

"That'll be vodka for you," he grumbled.

"You're upset with me," she stated. He didn't reply, but instead held onto her as he opened the car door.

Suddenly, the fun feeling was gone. Hot tears were burning in her eyes. Making her not see.

She stumbled and nearly fell over. His arm slid around her waist, pulling her into him.

"Easy now."

God he had a nice body. So solid. Such nice muscles. He must have liked her now, because he touched her. He never ever did and she really, really liked it.

She was pushed into the back of a car, buckled in and she heard him give instructions to the driver. She closed her eyes and rested her hot head against the cool window. She hated when he was upset with her. He'd always go quiet and if he was really upset he'd start grumbling at her. Once he'd even shouted.

Thankfully, the ride was quick. The car stopped and he helped her out. Such strong hands. Lucky, lucky drumsticks. She sighed, leaning on him heavily. They were now in the lift. She turned to nuzzle into his chest.

"Mmh, you smell so good," she breathed against the little triangle of skin that was exposed. "And you feel so good."

His adams' apple bobbed up and down.

"Let's get you to your room."

She furrowed her brows. His voice sounded raspy. She'd have to find him some tea with honey and lemon.

The lift doors slid open and he led her down the corridor.

A wave of sadness washed over her as she watched him rifle through her handbag and slide the keycard into the slot. He seemed in quite a rush to get rid of her.

He turned on the lights and made her sit on the bed. He handed her a water bottle.

"Here, drink this."

She complied, taking big gulps. She stared at the label of the bottle.

"Was I not fun?" she asked, quietly.

He was kneeling in front of her, taking off her shoes. She'd dreamt of this, but in her dreams he wasn't so... cold. Stern. Angry almost.

He looked up at her. "Looked like you had a lot of fun."

"No, I mean, was I fun? Do you like me now?"

He didn't meet her gaze. Instead, he looked down at her feet, then tidied the shoes away.

"Of course not," she whispered, hanging her head. "You never like me."

"What do you mean?" He was close. His voice sounded... soft.

"You're always grumpy with me. I work sooo hard, run around all day, for you guys. Everyone seems happy with the things I do. Not you. You frown at me all the time. You're grumpy and upset with me all the time and I don't know why."

She looked at him, crouched down in front of her. He just stared at her.

"You hug everyone, but not me. Tonight's the first time you've ever touched me. I just... Why am I so hard to like?"

Tears pricked at her eyes as she waited for him to reply.

He got up, grabbed something then placed it in her hand. "Take these now, two more in the morning," he said. His voice sounded off.

She looked at the pills in her hand, then up at him. He even looked upset now.

Of course he was upset with her. He probably was embarrassed about her behaviour at the club. Her heart clenched. She put the pills in her mouth and washed them down with water. The bottle was empty. She screwed the lid back on.

"Thank you for taking me home," she whispered. She crawled under the covers of her bed, turning on her side, away from him.

Seconds later she heard her door open and close softly. The tears finally fell.

*****

The internet was a big fat liar.

Of course she had a hangover. She woke up at 4am to a very, very queasy stomach and then spent the next two hours emptying the contents of her stomach into the - very clean, mind you - hotel toilet.

Neither a really hot shower nor painkillers helped. At least the world had stopped spinning.

She totally understood people now, she thought, as she donned sunglasses at 6.30am, knocking on people's doors to get them up and to the airport.

Her head wanted to explode - she wouldn't have minded - and the smell of any food or drink had her grind her teeth and try to keep from dry heaving.

The world was extremely loud as well. Even people's breathing.

And of course her plan had backfired. Showing people that she, too, could be fun, let her hair down. How fucking embarrassed was she to be able to remember every single detail of last night? She wanted the ground to open and swallow her whole. Unfortunately, that wasn't going to happen.

Somehow the fact that she could hide her eyes behind her very dark lenses made it easier to face people. She ignored all comments and jokes about the previous night. Instead, she did what she was best at: she buried herself in work.

When everyone was asleep on the plane, she was busy helping Tom sorting out a problem at the next venue. The stewardess brought round food, which woke people up. She politely declined and kept working. After another hour she unbuckled her belt and went to the toilet.

When she was done, she splashed some water on her face. She looked tired, had rings under her eyes. That was nothing new. Ever since the tour had started she'd been losing sleep. Worrying over this or that when she was in bed. They were right. She couldn't let loose. She couldn't switch off.

She dried her face and put the sunglasses in her bag and opened the door.

Too late she noticed that someone was there and bumped into a solid chest. Her eyes shot up.

Shannon.

"I'm so sorry," she muttered and quickly wanted to make her escape.

He didn't usually like her being close to him at all and after last night... well, she just wanted to get away.

His hand curled around her arm, stopping her. Goosebumps erupted on her skin. She hoped he didn't notice.

"How you feeling?"

"Fine. I'm fine." It sounded defensive even to her ears.

"Listen," he started, but she interrupted him.

"I'm terribly sorry about how I behaved last night. It'll never happen again. Now, please, excuse me."

She rushed it all out. She wished she still had her sunglasses on.

His fingers around her arm didn't let her go.

"That's not what I was going to talk about," his deep voice did things to her she couldn't describe.

She bit her lip.

He let out a breath. "I wanted to say sorry."

Her eyes shot up to his. "Whatever for?"

Maybe he did like her after all. Or he wanted to admit that she actually was quite fun. Fun enough to start talking to and hugging.

"For making you feel shit. I didn't want to make you cry."

Pity. That's all it was, just pity.

"No worries, all good now," she quickly said and tried to make a run for it again.

He, however, wasn't having any of it. With another tug on her hand, he pulled her along, opened the curtain.