The contest is over. We have a winner for our Band Camp contest. *drum roll* And the winner is:
Mandie Baxter
For those of you who did not get a chance to read her entry, I am posting it below. Mandie, I will be in touch with you for your prize. Congratulations to everyone on this contest. It was so much fun and ALL your entries were awesome!
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This one time at band camp, I punched a guy in the face when he asked me where I put my flute when no one was looking.
“In its case, asshole,” I said as my fist connected with his nose. Pretty sure I broke it. I thanked my brother later that night for teaching me how to punch.
Where do people get the balls to ask these questions? Just because it’s in a movie doesn’t mean it’s true. Maybe I should have taught him where his trumpet should go instead.
Sure, the joke was funny the first few times I’d heard it. But really? Enough’s enough. I fear that one line will haunt me forever. Doesn’t help I’m a red-headed flute player, either.
“Excuse me,” a voice called from behind me. “Can you tell me—”
But before he could finish, I whirled around, fist clenched. I was ready to throw another punch but held back as my breath hitched in my throat.
“Easy,” he said as he held his hands up to protect his body, his bright blue eyes wide behind his dark-rim glasses. “I was just going to ask if you could tell me where the band room is.”
I dropped my hand before responding. “Oh. Right. Well, I’m headed there now so I’ll just show you.”
“You’re not going to lead me down a dark alley and take my lunch money, are you?” His eyebrows arched, and a smirk played on his perfect pink lips.
“As long as you don’t make any lame, crude jokes you have nothing to worry about,” I told him as I shoved my hands into the pockets of my army-green cutoffs and started toward the band room.
“So that’s what that guy did?”
I shrugged. “Something like that.”
“Want me to go talk to him? Someone should teach him how to talk in front of a lady.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “A lady? What? Are you a knight of the round table or something?”
“No, but my mother did teach me manners,” he said as a rosy blush crept across his cheeks.
“So you’re a mama’s boy?” I asked as I did an about face and marched backwards so I could watch him as he spoke.
“Not so much, but I do have respect for her and what she taught me. Is that so bad?”
“No.” I stopped suddenly. Caught off-guard, he almost walked right into me. Not that I minded. He took a step back. To fill the space, and stay close to him, I extended my right hand. “Frankie,” I told him as I blew my bangs out of my eyes. No matter how often I trimmed them, my fringe always encroached my line of vision. On purpose, of course. But at that moment, I wanted nothing to hinder my view.
“Gabriel,” he said as he took my hand. “Nice to meet you. So are we going to have to stop for food and water or are we almost there?”
“Patience, young Jedi, we’re almost there.”
I caught a smile on his lips before he could turn his head from my line of sight.
“What do you play?” he asked as he nodded to my empty hands.
“Piccolo.” I motioned to my leg where it sat tucked into my boot. “Flute during concert season though.”
“Do you always carry your instrument like that?”
“Always. Piccolo anyway. I mean, it fits. And before you ask, yes, I always march in combat boots, too. I like to stand out.”
His eyes roamed along my body—from my black tank top all the way to my tan legs.
“What color do you call that?” He tugged on a lock of my hair that hung in waves down my back. He let go when I stopped. “It looks like the inside of a blood-orange.”
I moved to face him and crossed my arms over my chest knowing the effect it has on my cleavage. “It’s not from a box, if that’s what you mean. Though I’m guessing yours is midnight black?”
“Touché.” He shook his head, causing his bangs to fall across his glasses. He hadn’t even glanced down at my chest once. “But I’m all natural, too.”
With one step forward, my body was an inch from his. I brushed his hair out of his face before I laid my hand on his chest. Using him, I steadied myself and pushed up on my toes. I gazed into his eyes and gave him a smirk. His tongue darted out as he licked his lips. And then I kissed him.
Our lips met. Slow and soft. Before I know it he’s kissing back. Harder. One hand moved up my back and into my hair while the other snaked down and rested in my back pocket. Without thinking, I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him closer. As I did, his tongue pushed against my lips.
“Get a room,” someone muttered as they pass.
I didn’t even open my eyes to see who I flipped off. It could have been the band director for all I cared. I was kissing a boy and no one was going to ruin that.
He moaned as I bit into his bottom lip and wouldn’t let go when I tried to pull away.
“You can’t stop now,” he said as he placed open mouth kisses along my jaw.
“I thought you wanted to know where the band room was?”
“I’d rather see where your car is parked. And if it has a decent backseat.”
“How’s the bed of a pickup truck work for ya?”
