I didn’t pregame like the other residents of the house even though I could have used some liquid courage. I’m not a big drinker, but I’m going to be to get through tonight.
“And freshmen aren’t allowed to attend the first party of the year?”
She rolls her eyes as she brings her red Solo cup to her lips. I’ve already asked this question a million times. Jimbo’s right—we’re responsible for running a clean band this year. What happens off campus doesn’t necessarily apply, and the upperclassmen are already well aware of what the band is capable of, but freshmen are still unsullied and pure.
Instead of answering, Shannon elbows me when Jared climbs onto a chair to make himself more visible amid the sea of bodies crammed into the dank basement of the ITK house.
“Listen up!”
I cut my gaze to Jimbo behind the bar. As predicted, he looks annoyed someone is usurping his role as the ITK president and announcement-maker.
A grin creeps across my lips. He’s about to be a whole lot more surprised.
“How did everyone feel about our rookie-initiation ritual getting taken away from us?”
The crowd boos. Shannon joins in. Loudly.
“And how did we all like the drum major competition instead?”
The response is mixed, but the general consensus is obvious. They think it was stupid.
“We’re all required to vote anyway, so how about if we vote about the things we actually care about?”
Wow. Shannon wasn’t kidding. According to her, Jared’s bitter over not making the cut for drum major and being the first tuba section leader in the history of ITK not to be voted into an officer position as a senior. He and Jimbo have had some weird competition between them since last year, which is why Jared slipped laxatives in Jimbo’s drink at band camp.
I have to admit, the whole thing makes me feel a little betrayed. I thought Jimbo only competed with me.
“So, how about a drum major competition where we can really get dirty and have some fun?” Jared smiles at Jimbo.
“Fuck me. Are you serious?” Jimbo responds while everyone waits to see how they should react.
“I’ll fuck you,” a female voice calls out from the other side of the vast room. “And I’ll vote for you, too!”
Jimbo raises his cup in her direction, but she probably doesn’t notice his eye roll in the dim lighting. She’s obviously not a serious contender to warm his bed tonight.
“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Jared cheers. “So, let’s put it to a vote. If you would fuck Jimbo, raise your hands!”
Literally every woman in the room raises her hand. Except Shannon. And me.
For obvious reasons.
Jared makes a show of counting all the raised hands then points at Shannon, sitting beside me on yet another reclaimed couch situated by the bar. “Forty-four, Shan! Tally it up!”
And because she’s in just as tough of a position as the first female trumpet section leader in a group of mostly male brass, she does her job just like any of them would.
Jared moves his arms in a sweeping motion. “Okay, clear the board. Hands down. If you would fuck Nate, raise your hands!”
And so, it goes. Down the list until Jared gets to me last.
Now, here’s the thing. There are more guys at this party than ladies. Shannon says it’s always this way. And even though I don’t expect every dude in this basement to actually be attracted to me in any way, the fact of the matter is, I’m the only female they can vote for. Even if some of the men are repulsed by me, I stand a chance to win this thing without even trying.
“Fifty-two!” Jared whistles, seeming genuinely impressed. “You are clearly the most fuckable drum major, Sophia!”
I’m never putting that on my résumé, but at least I can enjoy the way Jimbo glowers for losing.
Although my joy doesn’t last long when a chant of, “Show us your tits,” gains strength.
Shannon pats my leg. Surprisingly, this doesn’t bother her. It’s apparently an ITK thing, and none of the women ever actually do it unless they want to. The guys just like to hear themselves say it.
“What’s our favorite kind of dancing?”
Jared cups his hand around his ear as the ITK traditional response of, “Dirty!” is called back.
“Make room on the floor, ladies and germs! Our drum majors are gonna show us what they’ve got!”
“There’s four of us and one of her,” Jimbo yells as he rounds the bar. “What do you want us to do? Put her in a circle and grind on her ’til we crush her?”
Shannon grins at me because she expected this to be a point of contention for this contest. And she’s got an idea for how to solve the problem. It’s not perfect, but it buys me some time to find someone I’m comfortable enough with. She stands and grabs Jake’s hand, leading him to the cleared space in the middle of the basement. Kim takes over the clipboard.
A sexy song plays from the speakers, and they really do get dirty in front of everyone. He takes a wide stance, bends his knees, and clamps a hand on her lower back. I mean, low. She straddles one of his thighs and grinds her hips against his waist. They’re having sex with their clothes on.
The other benefit of Shannon taking the lead on this is, she promised to show me how it’s done. Since I reformed my wayward ways in college, I don’t go to parties. I don’t put myself in situations to make stupid decisions.
And there is no way I’m capable of moving like that, no matter how much I want to win. Me on that dance floor would be more humiliating than me lifting a bar with no weight on it and promptly falling over. If I’m going to lose anyway, the best I can hope for is to save face by not trying. Only the official band votes matter. I can still win those.
A warm hand wrapping around one of mine distracts me from the porno on the dance floor.
It’s Jimbo. “Come on. If you dance with me, then you can’t beat me this round. No one will realize who they’re actually voting for.”
He pulls me up from the couch as easily as he did from the field after the weight-lifting disaster. I don’t get a chance to protest in a way that won’t draw attention to myself, but by the time he plasters his hard body to my soft one that goes rigid as a board, he figures out my problem. And it’s not that we hate each other. This time.
His hands are clamped around my waist. My arms are hanging at my sides. I have no idea what to do with my hands.
“You don’t know how, do you? You never come to the parties.”
There’s no point denying it. One move, and I’ll give myself away. “You already win this round. Go find one of the women who wants to fuck you to dance with. I’ll just go back to the couch and take the loss on this one.”
He raises an eyebrow, even as he begins gently swaying our bodies to the beat. “If I let you go, one of the men who wants to fuck you is just going to snatch you up. You’re going to lose, no matter what. At least, this way, I get to have some fun.”
“Sure, but we already agreed we have to keep the status quo of our hatred. Remember Kim’s reaction to us at camp?” I can’t even pretend to cover my hatred with love in this situation. It doesn’t change the fact that I can’t dance.
He smiles. It’s evil, despicable, soul-sucking. Like he knows exactly what I’ve been doing all along, which he probably does. “I think you’re playing that all wrong. You’re so convinced it’ll hurt us in the polls, but I think shaking things up will give the band something to root for. Like their own personal reality show. It’ll boost both of our chances.”