by Kata Čuić
“Dedication?” Has everyone lost their damn minds? “How is it dedication to have a revolving door of women in his bed while he’s supposedly pining away for someone else for three whole years?”
“What was I supposed to do? Stay celibate while you were getting your rocks off whenever you wanted with guys you liked way more than me?”
Lilah shrugs. His paltry defense doesn’t faze her in the slightest. Maybe that’s because she really has been after Jimbo since last year. “Everyone knows guys think with their little heads, not with their brains. They’re programmed for sex. They can’t help themselves.”
“What are you confessing to now, Jimbo?” I need Shannon. Shannon would feel as horrified as I do. She would back me up. “You had revenge sex with all those women? You used them?”
He vehemently shakes his head, knowing damn well he’s backed himself into an inescapable corner. “Number one, it’s not nearly as many women as you think it is.”
“Because you led me to believe it was more? Because you like it when I’m jealous?”
“Yes!” He nods excitedly then reverses course when my glare intensifies. “I mean, no! And number two, if anything, they used me! They wanted sex; I’m a guy. They expect me to be horny out of my mind all the time. They thought enough orgasms would wear me down …”
“That’s true.” The color guard captain arrives just in time to confirm his miserable excuse for a defense. “I think I gave myself TMJ from blowing him so often to make him forget about you and take a chance on me. You’ve got yourself a winner, Soph. It didn’t work. One time, he was actually going over flashcards to get a better grade than you in one of your shared classes. Out loud! With his dick in my mouth!”
“You wanted to blow me; I wanted to study,” he insists. “I did not come that night.”
“That doesn’t make it better, Jimbo!” I practically scream.
“No, you didn’t.” She rolls her eyes. “You were too distracted by talking excitedly about how pissed she was going to be when you got a perfect score on the final, and she didn’t.”
How does she sound so accepting of all this? What is wrong with everyone?
Shannon walks in. Thank God.
“Shannon! Do you hear this? Did you know about this?”
Her guilty expression gives her away, but she covers it up with disappointment.
Oh my God. She knew.
“What a stupid excuse for a man Jimbo is? Yes, I knew.”
“Thank you!” Jimbo and I answer in unison.
I glare at him. “That is not a resounding endorsement of your character.”
“I’m stupid!” He gestures toward Shannon. “Everyone knows it! You can’t possibly hold that against me!”
Everyone knows it. Everyone knows it. “Oh my God! You all knew?”
Most of the section leaders have arrived early for Challenge Thursday, and they’ve all witnessed this spectacle at various stages. Some of them nod; some avert their gazes in shame … or pity; some of them look like they want popcorn to snack on while they wait to see how this is all going to turn out.
Kim, the clarinet section leader who thought the apocalypse was beginning when she caught Jimbo and me in the file room during band camp, is the last to arrive on the scene. She glances around and shakes her head with a frown. “It’s finally happening, isn’t it?”
Kim. Kim is on my side. Maybe she’s the only one who ever has been.
Another horrifying realization washes over me. “You haven’t been campaigning at all! You’ve been asking all the sections for advice!”
He ruffles his own hair. He’s uncomfortable. “Uh … not the drumline,” he hedges. “Just the mostly female sections.”
This is so much worse than I thought. “You’ve been asking the sections for advice?” I repeat, horror tensing my muscles until they feel like they’re going to snap again. Probably against his face. Again.
“You heard Shannon!” he shouts, gesturing toward her. “I’m stupid! Time’s running out! I needed help! I obviously have no idea what I’m doing!”
“You need help,” I repeat, slowly nodding my head as the ramifications of this reality show come crashing down on my shoulders. “You need help.”
Fine. I’ll give him some help.
There are probably a hundred people in the band room now. All the other drum majors and section leaders, most of the squad leaders. And even though none of the staff are poking their heads out of the offices, there’s no way Dr. Kimball hasn’t heard this melee. His door is wide open.
“Everyone who thinks I should commit to a relationship with Jimbo, raise your hands.”
“What are you doing?” he hisses. “This has gone far enough. You don’t even like public displays! You hate being embarrassed!”
“Oh, Jimbo.” I pat his shoulder while watching out of the corner of my eye as everyone glances around to see if anyone is going to actually vote. “I’ve been publicly humiliated all this time. And honestly, after the weight-lifting contest at camp and the shittiest night of my life at the ITK party, what does it matter anymore? You want help; I’m going to give you help. Just like you helped me.”
“This is not up for public voting,” Jimbo shouts. “Voting for drum major is not until tomorrow. We need to prepare for Challenge Thursday.”
No one has raised their hands yet. They need to be eased into it, obviously.
“How many of you knew about this all along?”
Still, no hands go up.
“Okay.” I take a deep breath, put my hands on my hips, and step away from Jimbo, affecting my best domineering leader pose. “How many of you thought it was hilarious when I landed on my back like a cartoon character during the weight-lifting contest?”
A few hands go up. Not many, but some of them are snickering.
“And how many of you heard about me shitting my life away at the ITK party even if you weren’t in attendance?”
A few more brave souls confess to loving the bandie gossip line.
“How many of you think Jimbo’s a stupid excuse of a man-whore?”
About half the room votes.
Jimbo scoffs. “How many of you have I actually slept with?”
Only the color guard captain and a junior trumpet named Jackie raise their hands.
“Raise your hand.” Jimbo narrows his eyes at me.
Fine. It’s true, and everyone already knows it. If that’s supposed to sway me, it doesn’t.
“How many of them weren’t in band?” I mutter.
He makes an O with his hand. “None.”
So, there have been three. We’ve slept with the same amount of people. Who cares? We’re not making that into another competition.
“Great. Now that everything’s out in the open, let’s give Jimbo all the help he needs. We’re family, right? We help each other when we need it. And you’ve all been invested in this from the very beginning, so I want you all to feel included in the outcome.”
I ask again, “Raise your hand if you think I should agree to date Jimbo.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, they vote.
It’s a majority. Even the other drum majors and Shannon have their hands in the air. But I want to be sure.
There are definitely holdouts, like Kim.
“And who thinks he needs to move on with his life?”
Literally only Jared, Kim, and the drumline raise their hands.
Jimbo grins. “Now, you know why I didn’t ask the drummers for advice.”
Well, that backfired.
Chapter Twenty-Three
It’s late, but the front door is unlocked. A candle flickers in the living room, casting a warm glow and an inviting scent around the space. All the other lights are off. Everyone else must be asleep.
Everyone, except Jim, who’s waiting for me on the couch.
“How is she?”
I don’t ask how he knew I’d come to him. I don’t ask why he didn’t expect me to go back to my hotel room. I simply cross the
space between us and curl into his side when he opens his arm for me.
“She cried herself to sleep. I would have stayed with her all night, but her roommate was annoyed enough with the drama. I didn’t want to make things worse. She might want some alone time when she wakes up anyway.”
He presses a lingering kiss to the top of my head. “She psyched herself out. That’s why she lost. She’ll get back on the horse and win her spot back next week. She just needs to find the middle ground between working hard for what she wants and not letting the anxiety of failing control her.”
I raise my gaze to his, resting my head on his shoulder. “Are you talking about Emily or about me?”
“Maybe a little of both.”
“So, you think I should work harder to give us a shot and not let the anxiety of you throwing me away again control me?”
“Well, the masses have cast their votes …” He chuckles then traces his finger along my jaw and dusts my nose with another kiss that lasts a breath too long to be innocent. It’s like he’s testing the waters to see how much I’ll allow. “I think … you should finally let me apologize adequately and at least try to make it up to you. And if I can win your forgiveness, then we’ll see where it goes from there.”
“Is my forgiveness another competition?”
“No. Are you going to withhold it from me out of spite?”
No. He already has it.
“You’re right though. We’re running out of time.” I pull my gaze from his and fit my head into the crook between his chest and shoulder. It’s the perfect pillow. “What happens tomorrow when the drum major voting takes place? What happens when they announce you as head drum major on game day, and I can’t handle that?”
“What happens when they announce you as head drum major, and I can?”
“Can you?” I murmur. “Can you really? Or is that just your way of telling me this has never been a fair fight? Did you already throw the competition in some misguided way of winning me over?”
“Shit.” His chest rumbles beneath me with another low chuckle. “Would that have worked?”
No. “Maybe.”
“I’d like to say that I’ll keep that in mind for next time, but …” He lifts my face to his with a single finger beneath my chin. The gap between us lessens as my heart rate slows to a peaceful rhythm. His lips touch mine with tenderness that wasn’t there when we were younger versions of ourselves, all gnashing teeth and hurry to become adults.
I open my mouth to him with longing I could never have understood the first time.
This kiss is slow, meaningful, and intentional. It’s a taste of everything we could be together if we just abandoned the war and the hurt.
He rests his forehead against mine when we break for air. “Now, you understand why I was so desperate. We’re running out of time.”
“We’re graduating at the end of the year, no matter what,” I remind him. “We still might part ways.”
He shakes his head against me.
I smile because the movement tickles. And because he’s still arguing.
“Not necessarily,” he whispers. “Maybe we fight for something different this time. Maybe we fight on the same side. Maybe we fight to stay together.”
“Jimmy …”
He presses my hand to his cheek. “James. I’ll always be the James to your Sophie.”
Because that’s what we called each other that night so long ago. It felt so grown up then. It feels so childish now.
The names don’t matter nearly as much as the people who wear them.
It’s been three years of cloaking love with hatred. I’m just not sure how to reverse that cape in only a day’s time.
“Come on.” He pulls me up as he stands. “It’s late, and we have classes tomorrow. Let’s go to bed.”
I hesitate. We might be running out of time, but jumping in with both feet without knowing the true depth could be worse than the initial dive.
He rounds on me when I pull free from his grasp. “You want me, and I’m right here. What’s stopping you now?”
“I just don’t think …”
“So, don’t think. Feel. You don’t have to completely change who you were in high school. There’s nothing wrong with enjoying life and attending parties and taking risks. You can have the best of both worlds. I know you. You’ll never ignore the trees for the forest again.”
I smirk. He’s become attached to that Dr. Kimball phrase.
“Give us a test drive, Soph,” he pleads. “Just come sleep with me. We’ve never tried that before.”
“You meant what you said to my parents?” I give him a playful shove with my whispered shout. “You wanted me to stay here all week and actually see what living with you was like? Without sex?”
He pretends to wince. “Yeah.”
I head toward the staircase. “You’d better not have meant the four kids part where I stay at home, and you further your education.”
“No, but I have been seriously considering your suggestion to go into music education. I really hate political science,” he whispers as we ascend past all the people sleeping in their rooms.
“Please tell me you didn’t choose a major just to stay in competition with me.”
“No. I chose that major when I heard you talking about going to law school. I figured I’m never going to be a millionaire like Alex, but being an attorney is pretty good money.”
I shake my head as we enter his bedroom. “I was not joking about you needing to let go of that football-shaped chip on your shoulder and all the toxic masculinity that comes with it. Do you even like music? Or did you just become a band geek because it’s the total opposite of being a football player?”
“Yes and no. That is absolutely what I did at first, but I fell in love with it over time.” He smirks and throws me a T-shirt from his dresser. “Sort of like you.”
We change in silence in the dark. He wasn’t kidding about trying out just sleeping together and nothing more. There’s no staring at each other’s naked bodies, no sleeping in nothing but underwear, not even copping a feel as we climb into bed.
It’s kind of disappointing.
“I’m glad you have a bigger bed than Shannon’s.”
“Me, too. But I should warn you, I’m used to sleeping alone, and I have a queen-size bed because I like to starfish in the middle of it.”
“I’m used to sleeping alone, too.”
We stare at each other for a few moments, lying on our sides, facing each other from opposite ends of the bed.
“We’re going to have to learn how to sleep together,” he says quietly like this small thing might derail everything else.
“Or we’ll compete over who gets the most space on the mattress and who ends up with all the blankets wrapped around them by morning.”
He grins. Then, he pulls me into his arms.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I’m alone in bed. I don’t need to open my eyes to know there’s not another body beside me anymore. Grinning, I stretch my arms and legs as far as I can, then I roll around all over the mattress and sniff the pillowcases like a complete psycho.
And I accused him of being a stalker.
When I open my eyes, there he is. Standing beside the bed with a breakfast plate in his hands and a piece of bacon clutched between his grinning teeth.
“You … were not supposed to be here to see that.”
He bites back the bacon into his mouth the way a snake chokes down a mouse and mumbles while chewing, “Oh, I’m so glad I didn’t miss that show.”
He gestures for me to scoot over, so I do. He climbs in beside me and puts the plate between us. “Did you snoop to your heart’s content while I was gone?”
“I just woke up. How long have you been gone?”
He snags another piece of bacon from the plate and continues talking while chewing, “About two hours. Aren’t you going to eat?”
Breakfast in bed is an extremely sweet gesture. Even though he wanted
the chance to make amends, he also deserves to know exactly what he’s considering committing to. “I don’t actually eat breakfast.”
He pops his eyebrows while he continues devouring bacon. “How is that possible? I’m always starving in the morning.”
“I’m not hungry until around lunchtime.” I shrug and take a piece anyway because … bacon. “Where did you go? I didn’t even know I was in bed alone until a few minutes ago.”
“To work out.”
I’m not surprised to hear that. There’s no way anyone gets a body like his without putting in the time and the effort. And that body is still sadly covered by a fresh T-shirt and sweatpants that were hanging deliciously low on his hips when he was watching my freak show.
“If you’re so anti-football, then why do you get up early to sculpt yourself into a wide-receiver physique?”
He glares at me. “How do you know what position my brother plays?”
“Google.”
“Why were you Googling Alex?”
I grin. “Know thine enemy.”
“You expect me to believe you were looking up any tidbit of information you could find on the internet about me?” He glares then smiles. “Fine. I’ll accept that as a plausible answer because I did the same thing.”
Yeah, he was probably cyberstalking me to find out any potential weaknesses. In hindsight, it could have been either to use against me or for me.
“You still didn’t answer my question,” I point out. “Why do you work out?”
“Taking care of myself has nothing to do with football. I only get one body, so I treat it like a temple.”
“A temple built of bacon bricks.” I snort.
“I’m a college student.” He shoves another piece in his mouth. “It’s cheap protein. Protein is vital for muscle recovery. What about you? When do you work out? What do you like to do?”
“Uh, when I don’t have mountains of coursework, I like to sit on my couch and binge-watch TV.”
He runs his gaze up and down my body with the focus of an actual touch.
I shiver.
“You don’t look like a couch potato.”
“Uh … thanks. I think?”