Keep the Beat: A Band-Com for Romance Geeks

by Kata Čuić

  As soon as my parents leave, I’m going to find out which room is his and booby-trap it to kingdom come. The best defense is a good offense.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Remember,” Shannon whispers in my ear, her words barely audible over the sound system, “you didn’t hear it from me. You’re only attending your first ITK party ever because you’re living here for the week and because you want to sway potential voters by getting on their level.”

  “You mean, by getting drunk.”

  She shrugs. “Same difference.”

  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.”

  “That’s what Shannon said.” I try not to cringe when his large hand migrates to the swell of my butt.

  “Shannon’s smart.”

  A new song starts up. The voyeurs obviously haven’t made up their minds yet.

  His other hand clamps around the back of my neck like he did when he pretended to kiss me. We’re sealed together chest to chest, our faces inches apart as he dips our bodies lower toward the floor.

  “Relax. I’ll hold you up.”

  “Why are you helping me?” Surely, this is another power play.

  “You’re a drum major. Keep the beat with your body.”

  “I can’t,” I hiss, my body doing the exact opposite of relaxing. “Just because I can keep time with my arms doesn’t mean I can dance.”

  “I’ve seen you dance before,” he argues. He loves to argue. “At that band camp in high school. You turned me the fuck on that night, so I know you can dance.”

  “I’m not that girl anymore.”

  “And I’m not that guy.”

  Oh, I know he’s not. He’s proven it time and time again.

  He drives his hips against me, the erection in his jeans teasing my center.

  His eyes scream at me.

  Compete with me.

  Answer the call.

  Keep the beat.

  Because I never back down from his challenges, I slide my hands up his chest to frame his neck. And squeeze a little.

  He smirks. “Dancing like this is the same as hating someone. You put all your energy into it, all your passion. Doesn’t matter what brought you together with the other body, you give in to it. You let it consume you. And you don’t ever want it to end.”

  His low, rumbled words mingle with the deep bass of the sexy music, hypnotizing me in a language I can understand. He’s not wrong, and Shannon was right, too. The hate I feel for him flows through me, and I release it fully. I will it to travel from my veins into his as we slide against each other, battling for dominance. It’s so easy to make him my sole focus in a room full of people. Like second nature to forget anyone’s watching at all and touch him until his erection pulses with the torture I’m doling out.

  He slides his hand from the back of my neck to my jaw, swiping his thumb along my lower lip. I catch it and bite down then flick my tongue against the rough pad. He moans, his eyelids falling to half-mast.

  Just when I think I’m on the verge of winning, he raises the stakes. He leans in, diverting at the last minute to the base of my neck where he licks a line to my ear and blows his hot breath against my sensitive skin.

  “Let go,” he whispers. “You can fall. I’ll catch you this time, I promise.”

  His words don’t matter, and my body doesn’t care. This hate is like a drug, and I’ve never been so addictively aroused. My breath gusts out in a rush as a tidal wave of pleasure rolls through me from my center to my limbs.

  He really is the only thing holding me up now. He pulls his face from my neck and gazes down at me. “Sophie.”

  “If she’s pregnant now, that baby had better be named after me!” Jared’s loud voice rips me from my cocoon of bliss. “Sophia won that round, too!”

  “Yeah, she did!” Shannon raises her hand for a high five, pride in her voice.

  I meet her, hoping no one will notice how badly I’m still shaking. But when I glance around the room, I realize the joke is on me. Everyone knows what just happened on that dance floor.

  And Jimbo is standing beside me, grinning from ear to ear.

  I’m mortified.

  Every cell in my body vibrates with the urge to flee, to say the hell with saving face and brushing it off like what just happened is no big deal. Like I have orgasms in public all the time. Like I wasn’t just used for another game.

  I’m not the winner. I’m the loser.

  I broke first.

  “Shots!” Jared calls, and the other drum majors head for the bar.

  Jimbo has the nerve to pat my ass as he walks past me.

  I don’t have time to even escape upstairs to change my soaked panties because Shannon latches on to my arm as the rest of the party surges forward to witness the next competition. At least buried in a sea of bodies clamoring for the best vantage point, we strangely have more privacy for my mental breakdown.

  I tug back on Shannon’s grip. “Shan. Shan.”

  “Holy shit,” she squeals. “That was awesome! I thought you said you couldn’t dance?”

  “Shannon.”

  She hears the change in my voice. The break that signals tears I can’t fight aren’t far behind. “What’s wrong? Oh my God, what happened?”

  “You mean, you don’t know? You can’t tell?”

  The guys all knew just by one look at Jake at camp that he’d gotten laid. As soon as I saw Shannon, I knew. And we hadn’t even seen it happen!

  “Tell what?” She studies me, looking me up and down. “Oh, shit. Oh, shit!” She leans in closer to lower her voice. “That was real? You didn’t fake that? You had an actual orgasm? With Jimbo?”

  I nod. Bile is swimming up my throat, and if I open my mouth, I’m going to puke all over my best friend.

  “Okay. It’s okay,” she coos. “It doesn’t have to be a bad thing. It can be a very good thing.”

  I shake my head, pretty sure my eyes are frozen at their widest possible apex.

  “It’s fine.” She rubs my arms from shoulders to wrists in a soothing motion. “This is fine. Everything is fine. You are fine, and I am fine. And Jimbo is something else. Do the shot. It’ll make you feel better. Get back to the competition.”

  “I can’t,” I choke out.

  “Yes, you can. You are the most badass drum major of them all. I promise, no one realized that wasn’t fake. Hell, Jimbo probably doesn’t even realize it was real. He probably just thinks your acting has gotten better since camp.”

  “No, he knew!” I hiss. “He knew exactly what he did to me! Didn’t you see his face? Jared announced he’d lost to me, and he was smiling about it like it was a lifetime achievement award!”

  “Okay, well, you know …” She chews on her lip and glances toward the bar where shouts summoning my presence are beginning to make the rest of the crowd look for me. “When a guy acts like giving a woman an orgasm is a gift to himself, then you should say thank you.”

  “Oh, God. Jimbo said that. At camp. He said he was taught to say thank you when a friend lets him play with them. And now, I’m just another one of his toys. I already was once, and I swore it would never happen again.”

  “Sophie!” Jimbo’s voice snaps me to attention.

  “Get back in the ring,” Shannon advises. “Go up to that bar and show him just how welcome he is. That’s still your choice.”

  “He’s not welcome at all!” I hiss.

  She tips her head to the side like she doesn’t necessarily agree with me. In all fairness, she just heard me confess to having an orgasm from the dancing equivalent of dry-humping. “Then, show him that. But don’t give up. Don’t let him win unless you want him to win.”

  “I never want him to win!” Especially not now.

  Shannon’s right. That dirty play only stokes my desire more. The desire to make him suffer.

  I push my way through the crowd to reach the bar and make sure to stand on the opposite end of the line of drum majors from Jimbo. “What are we having tonight, boys?”

  They look over at me in unison with matching raised eyebrows. Good. So, they know I mean business.

  “Well? I don’t have all night.”

  Jimbo reaches behind the bar for a bottle of brown liquid. “Think you can handle whiskey?”

  “I can handle anything you throw at me.” I hope he hears how much I mean that.

  He must because the bastard chuckles and shakes his head as he pours five shots full to the brim.

  “How are we judging this?” Jake asks Jared. �
��Doing a shot will be equally easy for all of us.”

  “Oh, this isn’t the contest.” Jared smiles. “It’s the warm-up. You’re doing three shots now, then you’re playing each other at beer pong.”

  “No way.” Nate shakes his head. “I get it. You want us already drunk enough to miss, but Sophia is half our size, and she doesn’t drink like we do.”

  “That could put her in the hospital,” Jimbo agrees. “That shit isn’t happening in my fraternity anymore.”

  That fired shot hits the mark right between Jared’s eyes. He glares openly at Jimbo. “Okay. Then, you do her shots.”

  “No,” Tim speaks up first. “We’ll all do the first round together, then I’ll take her second shot and mine.”

  “And I’ll take the third,” Jake finishes.

  I smile. Not just because we feel like a team of drum majors right now more than ever, but also because Jimbo didn’t get to pretend to be my knight in shining armor.

  Of course, he ruins it for me. “And Nate and I will do an extra shot, too, so we’re all even.”

  “I’m in,” Nate agrees.

  As much as I’m grateful they want to keep me safe, I roll my eyes. We’re still not even.

  They glance between each other.

  “Dut, dut, dut, dut?”

  Why is Tim making the noise for the command we use to get the cadence going?

  Nate, Jake, and Jimbo shake their heads.

  “Band, horns up?” Nate suggests.

  Jimbo, Jake, and Tim shake their heads.

  Jimbo leans on the bar, so he can see me at the other end of the line. “We need a drum majors’ toast. All the sections do it at parties.”

  “So, what did the drum majors do last year?”

  Nate seems to think about it. “Nothing. They never did group shots.”

  Oh, so we’re special. How nice.

  “Keep the beat,” I suggest.

  Jimbo smiles like he doesn’t realize I’m insulting him. He knows he’s already won for the night anyway. “Let’s do it.”

  Everyone raises their shot glasses in the air. “Keep the beat!”

  I toss the liquid down the hatch. The guys watch, expecting me to cough and sputter, but I hold it in even though my insides feel like they’ve been lit on fire.