I don’t think I’ve ever been this drunk in my life.

The bass in the club thunders through my chest, lights flashing gold and white, champagne everywhere. Max is somewhere to my left, arm around Keegan’s shoulders, both of them yelling the lyrics to 'Sweet Caroline' like it’s a national anthem. Will and Jon are at the bar, ties long gone, jackets draped over chairs, laughing like they haven’t laughed in months.

World Champion.

The words don’t feel real yet. Nothing does. All I know is that my throat is raw from shouting and I’m standing on a sofa, arm slung around Max, screaming “GOOD TIMES NEVER SEEMED SO GOOD” at the top of my lungs, completely off-key and absolutely unstoppable.

I jump down, the floor tilting dangerously beneath my feet, laughter bubbling out of me as I push through the crowd, suddenly very aware that I need the bathroom now. The hallway toward the toilets is narrower, darker - and that’s when I collide with someone.

“Fu - sorry!” I slur, hands instinctively catching her arms to steady both of us. I’m laughing, breathless, blinking to focus.

She looks up at me, eyes bright, amused instead of annoyed. A small smile curves her lips, like this is the most natural thing in the world.

“It’s okay,” she says, still smiling.

I grin back, way too wide. “I’m very drunk,” I inform her, like it’s important information.

“I can tell.”

We laugh. I let go, wobble slightly, give her a crooked salute before stumbling off again, still chuckling to myself.

———

The next thing I properly register, I’m fumbling with a hotel key card.

And I’m not alone.

She’s here. The same girl from the hallway. I don’t remember how exactly - just flashes: her laugh near the bar, her hand steadying me again, shouting over the music, somehow ending up in the same taxi, the city lights of Abu Dhabi streaking past the windows.

And now we’re in my room.

The door clicks shut behind us and suddenly the world goes quiet, replaced by heavy breathing and the buzz still humming through my veins. She looks at me like she’s trying to decide something.

I don’t give her much time.

I kiss her - messy, hungry, tasting of champagne and adrenaline. She kisses me back just as hard, fingers gripping my shirt, pushing me backward until the backs of my knees hit the bed. I fall onto it with a laugh, pulling her down with me.

Clothes come off clumsily. Buttons missed, hands everywhere, mouths finding skin. I’m dizzy, drunk, but painfully aware of every touch, every sound she makes when I trail my mouth down her neck, when my hands slide over her hips.

She straddles me, breathless, hair falling around her face, and I swear I’ve never wanted anything more in my life.

“I’m..a lot right now,” I warn her, voice rough.

She smirks. “I noticed.”

Her hands clutching at the sheets as I suddenly roll her onto her back, moving over her until I’m above her, my weight braced on my arms. The bed creaks beneath us as we shift, the sound sharp in the otherwise quiet room.

I stop for a second. Just long enough to look at her.

Her eyes are dark, blown wide, locked on mine. My chest is heaving, heart hammering so hard I can feel it in my throat, champagne and adrenaline and disbelief still flooding my veins.

Fuck, I think. I’m world champion. Drunk. Reckless. Alive.