Marching season is out, but the competition is only heating up.
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Section leader applications for the next marching band season at Halston University are officially open, and percussionist Bay Rodriguez wants the role.
Bay's only competition is Ca...
verb. an eponymous type of cymbal in the standard drum kit.
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a / n :
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays! Here's two new chapters as a gift!
I hope everyone got some sort of positive feeling out of this festive season, because (I'm sure we're all feeling it) current events and the world in general seem to have gone downhill since 2020. My thoughts are with those who did not feel touched by any seasonal magic this winter. Times are hard.
Now that I've finished writing Double Time offline, I realized Bay came along at the perfect time in my life. For anyone feeling ground down, burned out, unwilling to care anymore, just wanting to numb out and go into survival mode, I get it. Bay gets it (or she will; she's got a long way to go still, and we're all going to learn with her).
I hope you are enjoying the story so far!
aimee x
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IN THE MIDDLE OF AUGUST, one week before band camp starts, I have a sex dream about Callum.
I am transported back to the freshman-year band party where we kissed for the first and only time. In the dream we are confined in a small bathroom with thumping music just outside the door.
"Okay," I say, "Wait," and then his mouth is on mine.
Callum surges forward, lifting me to sit on the edge of the sink, pressing me hard against the cool glass of the mirror. One hand cups my face, tilting my lips closer to his, and the other snakes around my waist. I open for him, letting his tongue slide in and explore every inch. A tiny moan escapes my mouth.
"Shh," Callum hushes, a cheeky smirk falling onto his face.
"No-one can hear us."
"No-one?" he whispers into my neck. "Alright."
The implication is clear in his low, shaking voice: then we can get loud as we like. Why the dream uses every cliché known to pornographers, I don't know. In a split second, he's shoved my t-shirt (at the actual party, I wasn't wearing just a thin t-shirt as a dress, but apparently in the dream I am) up my hips and unzipping his jeans. Pushing the waistband down, his body strains through two layers of underwear against me. I swear I can feel his blood pulsing, hot and hard. I hold very, very still.
