Oh. I see the rationale of doing the themes during band-only parties. It’s a way to teach the rookies the rules on a safer playing field than an open party.
My group shakes their heads. They understand.
“So, what’ll you ladies have?”
By the way they turn to me with wide eyes, I’m guessing none of them have ever walked on the wild side like I did in high school. Jim is standing in front of a fully stocked bar. They have no idea what to have.
“If you don’t like the taste of alcohol, or you’ve never tried it before, go with something easy like beer or bandie juice. If you’re feeling more adventurous, try a mixed drink,” I advise. “I personally like whiskey and cola, but it’s your choice.”
Jim hands me my special cup, already filled. I take a healthy gulp to prove to them he can be trusted. He might do stupid shit to me, but he’d never endanger any of our bandies.
“We don’t have to pay for our drinks?” Emily asks.
“Nope.” Jim smiles his most reassuring smile. “We have a cover charge on open party nights. That’s how we can afford an open bar for band-only parties. For the rest of the night, everything is on the ITK house.”
“What if we don’t like the drink we pick at first?” the cymbal player asks.
“No problem. Bring it back, and I’ll make you something else until we find what you like. If you don’t want to drink, or you decide you don’t like anything, we have bottled water, too.”
They place a variety of orders, and Jim serves them up with ease. Only one drink is exchanged for something else after tentative first sips.
Jim points to the sax chugging bandie juice like it’s Kool-Aid. “Be careful with that. Don’t drink too much, too fast. It tastes like juice, but it packs a punch. You’ll be drunk before you know it.”
Emily glances at me. “You said you’d make sure we all get back to the dorms safely.”
I nod. “I will.”
“If anyone wants to leave early, just let me know. I can escort you back to the dorms, too.”
As sexy as Jim is, these women aren’t stupid. Safety 101: never go anywhere alone with a man when you’re intoxicated unless you trust him completely or are looking for an actual hook-up.
They exchange nervous glances.
“Any female ITK brother can walk you home if you don’t feel comfortable asking me or Jimbo to leave early.” I point out all the women and give their names. “We will not let you drink until you get sick. We’ll cut you off before that happens. And if you decide you want to crash here, that’s fine, too. There are plenty of couches, and Jimbo’s bed is comfy. It could probably fit at least four of you.” I offer up his room with a sinister grin.
Of course, that backfires because they all smirk and snicker since I would obviously only know that if I’d already slept in it myself.
“I even washed the sheets today,” Jim adds helpfully. “You’re more than welcome to stay if you don’t want to go back to the dorms.”
They all nod. Unlike in years past, none of them implies that they’d like to sleep with Jim in his bed. Because they all think we’re together.
A crowd is forming around the bar, waiting their turns, so Jim offers them one last piece of advice. “Listen for the sectional shots. Even if you don’t want to do a shot, come to the bar when it’s time, so you can learn the chants and be with your section. Sophia can explain anything else you want to know.”
That’s our cue to leave.
“All right, ladies, time to hit the dance floor!”
They follow where I lead for the rest of the night. Dancing, beer pong, more drinks, cards upstairs in the kitchen. A few of them find their sea legs and wander off to try dirty-dancing with a new crush. Some break off from the larger group to challenge upperclassmen members of their section at beer pong. They take their turns for sectional shots, grinning like pros if they manage to down the shot without sputtering. They’re full of questions, and thanks to Jim’s private initiation, I have most of the answers.
There’s no way I’m getting drunk when I’m responsible for them all, and every time I escort them to the bar for a new drink, Jim refills my cup with water without me even having to ask.
By the early hours of the morning, the party is winding down, and all my rookies have reached a consensus to head back to the dorms. We’re making sure everyone is accounted for at the doorway before trudging to campus.
“Thank you so much for dragging me here!” Emily slurs a little, but she’s not nearly as drunk as she thought she’d get. She had enough fun tonight that the rejection of not winning her spot back doesn’t sting quite as much. She even had enough liquid courage to ask several upperclassmen trumpets how she could improve for next week. “I had so much fun, Soph!”
“No one’s gonna crash in my bed? Really?” Jim steps up beside me with a wide smile and a drink in hand. His shift at the bar is over, and now, he can relax for the night.
The women giggle, but it’s the cymbal player who speaks up with a roll of her eyes, “Sophia’s gonna come back here and crash in your bed, duh. We’re not going to break up that party.”
Everyone laughs. Including Jim. Except me.
“But we can’t wait to come back for next week’s party!” the sax player adds.
Jim leans down to nibble a piece of candy off my untouched necklace. “This,” he murmurs against my skin. “This is why I did it.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
It’s three o’clock in the morning, but he’s not in bed. His face is a silhouette in blue light from the television. The television that’s playing a repeat of last week’s Orlando Sharks football game.
I close the front door behind me. It wasn’t locked, and I didn’t knock. “Do you watch your brother’s games in secret?”
The remote control dances as he tries to quickly turn off the evidence. “No. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Mmhmm.” Fine. I’ll let him keep this to himself. It’s not like I don’t already know how much he loves his brother.
Surprisingly, the living room is empty, except for Jim. Unlike the last party, bodies aren’t sprawled all over the couches. Everyone else must have decided to head back to their own places, too.
I take a seat on the other couch. “I thought you didn’t want to tell me your reasons for doing what you did.”
He finally manages to turn off the television, and the room blankets us in darkness, except for the streetlight that filters in through the front windows. “I didn’t. But I also want you to see the difference you make in your position.”
“Their section leaders could have just as easily done for them what I did tonight.”
“Not all of them have female section leaders,” he points out. “You saw how they reacted to my offer to escort them home tonight. College can be a dangerous place. They’re smart. They’re not going to take help from a man they don’t really know yet.”
I nod even though he probably can’t see me. He’s not wrong. It’s the whole reason foundations like Sing Out exist in the first place.