Trying to summon up some iota of motivation, I chugged the rest of my nasty energy drink that was not even remotely a substitute for coffee and crushed the aluminum can in my fist before tossing it in the trashcan. It was already over eighty-five degrees in the shade. Ignoring his scowl, I scanned down the list of names and reviewed today’s schedule. I shot Marco a warning look and yanked the plastic clipboard from his loose grip. How the hell had they already run out of coffee? Eight was considered the asscrack of dawn in a college town. And the damn gas station had been out of coffee. Tired from last night’s bullshit with my dad and his unreasonable expectations, hungry since my fridge was empty except for some hot sauce and half a bottle of mustard, and frustrated because I hadn’t been laid in the last month and my balls were aching to empty themselves somewhere other than down the shower drain. That easy month before the fall semester actually started, when the only ones on campus were the über-nerds who took summer classes, the football team, and the marching band. Annoyed and hot, with a temper ready to explode.Īuditions.
Combined with the stink of so many guys trapped in subpar air-conditioning and Marco’s surly attitude, I couldn’t help but feel like a popcorn kernel in the microwave. The shitty acoustics and incessant, discordant sound of thirty pairs of drumsticks tapping away on whatever surface was handy – the cinderblock walls, cheap plastic chairs, the thin carpet whose original color was no longer discernable – grated on my last nerve. A quick glance at the standard school clock on the wall confirmed it was four past eight in the morning. “Is this all of them?” Marco studied the crowd of lanky drummers milling around the undersized room we’d been assigned and then checked the time on his phone. Even friction.īut not sparks hot enough to burn the entire campus down. She wants that damn spot, and she’s more than good enough to earn it. It doesn’t matter how much hazing she has to endure from Laird Bronson, with his narrowed green eyes and arrogant smirk. Until Reese Holland shows up with her long legs and no-bullshit attitude to audition for the prestigious all-male Rodner University snare line. Especially in the South.Ĭollege football. Proofreading by Kata Cuic, Julie Deaton, and Ellie McLove I mean, my family W.E.No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. Patty's Day to the laddies!Ī party where people (usually family, friends, or a combo of the two) get together and have a game where you unwrap, steal, and trade off presents never actually useful in real life. =Yeah, that's what I thought, you culture-stealing liberal! Go get drunk on Pearl Harbor Day or something! Leave St. Nowadays in USA = Just an excuse teenagers find to get wasted either during the school week or on Spring Break. Patrick, where you even got to forget Lent for a day. Supposed to be on the Island = A national holiday in Ireland celebrating the life of St.
That one drum that's not vertical but is at times tilted to the drummer's right is a snare drum. The drummers of these items usually are the cockiest and/or craziest guys in the line and their school, but their drum is always the only one on the field you can hear, so they have a right to be. The drumline is cooler than the starting qurterback, the stoner, and Russel Crowe combined.Īn instrument in the drumline that almost EVERYBODY wants to play. Just holler it and he'll probably look your way and go, "hmm, maybe I'll watch him." Either that, or do it when someone's about to fall to divert his attention. In the marching band circut, a vulgar but effective means to get a judge's attention. Just the fact they've been up in there is nasty enough, trust me.Īt a percussion camp, our school's drumline make a huge Ziploc bag of Grundle Bears that the college counselors snacked down. In order for it to work well, there should not be poop stains on any, or the camp counselors might notice. The irony of this thing is that most women against visual pornogrophy read their "romance novels" in public, which is something no porn addict would EVER do.Ī treat where you take perfectly good Gummie Bears and wipe them all up the anus region as if they were toilet paper. Technically not considered "pornogropphy" since there aren't pictures (at least on paper.) Porn written from, by, and for middle-aged women.