Huh. She’s right. I even do that in my own head.
I yell back the first thing that pops into my mind, “It’s like he has this pocket full of masks that are always changing on his face. What I call him depends on which mask he’s wearing. Tonight, he’s wearing the Jimbo mask. He’s drunk early, he’s loud, and he’s kind of obnoxious.”
Shannon pops her eyebrows and nods like she’s not only impressed with my observation, but also in agreement. “I guess now that you’re dating, you’ll finally get to see the real man behind all the masks. And then you’ll have to find something else to call him.”
As a chant of, “Jimbo! Jimbo! Jimbo!” carries upstairs from the basement, I’m not so sure about her assumption.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The basement is so packed that there’s got to be an oxygen shortage in here. Shannon pushes her way through the crowd, dragging me behind her like a child’s pull toy. When we reach the bar, I find out why everyone was cheering for Jim.
“Keg stands? Seriously?”
Shannon barks out a short laugh. “How do you even know about keg stands?”
“I told you already. I was a party girl in high school.” I shrug. “I’m not completely ignorant. I just don’t live this life anymore.”
She shakes her head. “I feel like there’s this whole side of you I never got to know because you’d burned out on it before we ever met. Any chance you’ll put on the party-girl mask for me tonight? Just once? Just so I can see what I missed out on?”
Her question sparks indignation in me. I don’t exchange masks the way Jim does on a rolling, regular basis.
I glance around at the barely controlled chaos. There are bandies, but there are also plenty of strange faces. They’re all having a good time, sure, but they’re well on their way to being drunk. The president of ITK is already smashed, judging by the way he and the other drum majors are taking turns chugging cheap beer through a hose while they hold each other upside down. A crowd of women crowds around them, probably hoping for the kind of wardrobe malfunction I was worried about.
Shannon is the only sober ITK officer left, and I don’t even know what state the other brothers are in. They’re scattered throughout the basement.
“Maybe I should stay sober. Just in case things get out of control.”
“Uh, no. You just got crowned the first queen of State Band, so you are celebrating tonight.” Shannon latches on to my arm to pull me through the women gathered around the latest drum major competition. Knowing me like she does, she shouts in my ear, “We have our own ITK security, so you don’t have to worry about it.”
That does put me at ease but only a little. Mostly because I have no idea what ITK security entails.
Nate spots me first as he’s being lowered to his feet. He swipes his forearm across his mouth. “Finally! She’s here!”
“Yeah!” Tim yells, obviously already three sheets to the wind. “Come take a turn, Your Highness!”
“No. No way.” I shake my head. “I don’t like beer, and I have a really strong gag reflex. If I do that, I’ll be puking all over the floor in seconds.”
Jake’s eyes get wide. “No keg stands for Sophia. Nobody wants to clean up puke this early in the night.”
Jim laughs as he makes his way around the group to me. “Damn. I guess you really won’t ever be choking down my hot dog then.”
It’s not that he’s never said anything horrible to me before in front of other people. It’s just that it seems so out of place with the way he promised things would be between us … now.
I study his every fine feature, looking for clues while he grins at me. “Who are you going to be tonight?”
I don’t blame him if he wants to be Jimbo. We’re still new and taking a test drive. This is his last first open party as an ITK brother. His last first game as a State Marching Miner. If he wants to celebrate to his heart’s content, I won’t stop him.
And if he’s drinking to nurse a broken heart about not being named head drum major, I understand. I might have gotten wasted tonight in that case, too.
In private. In my hotel room. Alone.
His face contorts in confusion, but he exchanges that mask for a soft smile. “Yours. I’m going to be all yours.”
He bends down to place a tender, lingering kiss against my bare shoulder. I breathe a sigh of relief and also bury my nose in his hair to inhale deeply because I’m a weirdo. At least to anyone else watching, it only looks like I’m nuzzling the man who’s giving me affection.
I laugh when he slips a warm, large hand beneath my toga. “I thought you’ve been anti-sex lately?”
He caresses my hip then works his way north to cup one of my breasts. This is the most action I’ve gotten since our disastrous dance, so I moan. I can’t help it. I’m eager to find out what grown-up Jimmy is capable of even though I don’t want to remotely think about how he learned it. Or with whom. Just as I’m forgetting where we are and ready to launch my own exploration, he straightens.
“Okay. Good.” He removes his hand.
What? That’s it?
I’ll give him credit though. He’s committed to showing me this isn’t just about sex.
He frowns as he glances around at all the action. “Some of the guys here will try to pull down the togas for a free show. Hell, some of the women, too. I just wanted to make sure you’re covered if anything happens.”
“Are you covered?” I accidentally glare at the women who are still hovering nearby. The ones who are hoping for a free Jimbo show.
He grins. He’s admitted he enjoys my jealousy, and I’m starting to get used to that. Both his enjoyment of it and my admitting to it.
“I am.” He reaches behind the bar and procures the same travel mug etched into my memory for all time. My fresh happiness evaporates with one look at that potential hell. “This has not left my sight since I poured it for you. Whiskey and cola, just how you like it.” He wraps my hand around it. “It does not leave your hand from now on unless you give it to me to hold for you. If you want to switch it out for water, no one will know the difference. You’ll look like you fit in. The way a drum major should.”
Oh. So, he’s my ITK Big, Jimbo, tonight. With a dash of protective, proud co-drum major sprinkled in. That mask is firmly labeled as intelligent, mature Jim.
His smile changes. It’s a little sharper, a little more lust-driven. It’s Jimmy. His gaze runs the length of my body. “Damn though. You wear a toga better than anyone I’ve ever seen. You look so good in my sheets.”
As much as I was hoping for more glimpses of the new, as of yet unnamed, version of James Fossoway, I’m happy to hear him refer to my clothing as his sheets. I still don’t want to move too fast.
He smooths his hands over my shoulders to my bare back and bites his lip as his gaze travels south to my breasts. I don’t care if he feels overshadowed by his professional-football-playing man-whore of an older brother. Because that sight right there? It is the absolute sexiest thing I have ever seen.
He hauls me against his barely covered chest. This kiss is more reminiscent of Jimmy. It’s harsh, frantic, wild. Like I’m one of Pavlov’s dogs, my nipples tighten against the lace of my bra, my panties dampen between my legs, and my center throbs to the beat of the music in the background. I’m a band geek that way. I can’t help it. I’m also more than ready to hump his leg on the dance floor with no regrets.