Page 11 of The Band Geek

“Well, I do have dreams of making my football experience more than just a college hobby, but I’m also a realist. I'm studying marketing to make sure I can provide for myself and my family in case the whole NFL dream doesn't pan out,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.

“I don't know. I've seen you on the field, and you're pretty talented. Granted, this is the only football I've really watched since high school, and I don't have much to compare it to because my school was notoriously bad,” Rowan says, rambling a bit as she blushes. “But I think you're talented enough that you could have a good future ahead of you after college.”

I look at her with pretend shock on my face. “Is Rowan Peebles saying something kind to me? What has happened to the universe?”

“If you want, I can go back to being standoffish. Your choice.” She shrugs.

“No, let's not. I liked the other version of you, but this one is great too.” The server knocks on the window shortly after and brings our food. I open it and excitedly hand Rowan her burger and shake, watching as she takes her first sip. Her eyes open wide, and she nods, immediately going back for another.

“That's delicious.” She moans as she takes another sip, and it immediately reminds me of the library. I don't think the sound of her crying out from pleasure and having to cover her own mouth to hide it will ever leave my mind. I could listen to that everyday for the rest of my life.

“What about your big dreams?” I ask between bites of the burger.

“I want to be a music teacher,” she says with a soft smile. “I've always loved music, hence being in the band. I'm dual majoring in music composition and early childhood education right now.”

I have to say, I'm impressed by that. Dual majoring is incredibly difficult. I can imagine that's a lot for her to handle, especially with band on the side.

“What makes you want to do that?”

“When I was in third grade, my dad died in a car accident, and it was the worst thing I ever experienced.” She sets her food down on her lap and clears her throat, clearly trying to fight back the emotion she feels talking about it again. “It was a really difficult time, and my mom didn't know how to handle me because I was so upset and misbehaving. Eventually, we went through a rotation in our art lessons at school for music. The teacher gave me a recorder and taught me how to play ‘Auld Lang Syne,’ and that sparked my love for music. After that, I was sent to music camp, and it's helped me all through my life. I want to be able to help other kids like me.”

A wide smile grows as I stare at her, weirdly proud of her. She's intelligent and kind, and she has a good head on her shoulders. “That's really sweet. I know you'll do just that, too.”

We finish our meals, and I reluctantly drive back to the dorm. If I could, I would stay out with her all night long and get to know every detail of her life. I want to ask her what her earliest memory is and ask her to recount every detail she remembers so I can know everything about her. Unfortunately, we have classes tomorrow. I'm not particularly studious, but I even care about that.

When we get to the dorm, I once again jump out of the car and open the door before she can open it herself. I walk her inside and linger by the metal elevator doors as we wait for it to open, wishing I could go upstairs with her.

“I don't know if you think what happened in the library means I'm going to sleep with you, but I'm not,” Rowan says, her voice soft as she stares up at me, biting her lips softly.

I smirk at her and shake my head, reaching my hand to cup her cheek. “Actually, I wasn't planning on that. I was only going to kiss you good night.”

I lean toward her and press my lips against hers. She doesn't hesitate with this kiss like she did the first time. Her lips swish against mine and part, hungry to taste more of me again. I hold her close, grabbing her waist and pulling her toward me, wishing neither of us had said what we did about not sleeping together.

Rowan's tongue explores my mouth, gently tapping on the roof and tickling me. I could do this all night, easily. But Rowan's words are heavy in my mind, and I don't want to push this too far. The last thing I want is her to think I'm taking advantage of her, so I reluctantly pull away. Her head is still tilted upward, a pleading look in her eyes silently asking me to kiss her again.

“I should probably get going,” I say just as the elevator door opens and a few students scramble off, their conversation coming to a halt when they see the two of us embracing. Rowan's face turns red as she climbs on the elevator, looking at me.

“Tonight was surprisingly fun,” she says, waving at me as the doors close.

“Don't worry, it won't be the last time I take you out,” I promise just as the doors close, separating the two of us.

EIGHT

I wait all day to hear from Sawyer again, but he doesn't reach out. I feel like a teenager in some '90s movie sitting by the phone, waiting for it to ring. This feels like torment.

Even though I haven't heard from him, I'm strangely content. I'm confident he's going to reach out. Especially considering we have our world history class together and still need to work on our project at some point.

Toward the end of the day, when I finish my last class and head to the football field for marching band rehearsal, I'm excited, thinking I’ll see the football players practicing on the field, too. Sawyer and the rest of the team are in the center of the field doing warm-ups, and Sawyer subtly waves at me when he sees me.

The entire cheerleading squad sits on the bleachers, shrieking laughter at each other, and all of us in our band uniforms are immediately self-conscious. We've all had our fair share of mean people making fun of us for being in the band, and the uniform just makes it that much more apparent.

Nevertheless, we straighten our spines and walk past the mean girls giggling at us. I look forward and of course see Jessica sitting in the center, her eyes glued to me as I gripped my flute tight in my hands.

“She came to Le Fleur wearing sweatpants, and I had to kick her out,” Jessica says louder than she needs to to ensure I hear. “I can't believe Sawyer would stoop as low as someone like her.”

The others around her all laugh hysterically like Jessica is performing her own stand-up show. I'm not going to pretend it doesn't hurt. Sawyer is popular, charming, and ridiculously good looking. He could do much better than me, and he likely has. The thought of him choosing me over someone like Jessica is preposterous in most cases.

People like Jessica are the reason I don't think Sawyer and I work. With people like him, catty bitches come with the territory. I've dealt with them for far too long in my life, and it's not something I want to be involved with much more.

---