But we always did something for the pack during the holidays. It was tradition at this point.
It was usually something smaller, like playing a set at Griffin’s bar, providing background music for quieter events. But this couldn’t be that different, could it?
Sure, we hadn’t been practicing as much lately. Schedules had been messy, meetups harder to line up. But it was the holiday season. Busy was normal.
We’d always performed together. This wouldn’t be any different. A little spark of excitement flickered in my chest.
No. We’d figure it out. We always do.
By the third song,I was bored out of my mind.
My sticks moved on instinct, tapping out a slow, steady beat on the snare and hi-hat while Noah crooned into the mic and Ethan swayed beside him, both of them tapping lightly to the rhythm like this was the most relaxing thing in the world.
I sighed and let my gaze wander.
Griffin’s bar was decked out in full holiday chaos. Tinsel hung from the beams, plastic snowflakes lined the walls, and every table had a little bowl of pinecones shoved into the center, like someone had gone feral at a craft store.
Behind us, the projector looped scenes of rolling waves, coconut trees, and bright tropical flowers.
Because tonight was Caribbean Night. Again.
Noah held the last note of the song, smooth and effortless, and I ended it with a bit more flair than usual. I ran through a quick fill across the kit before finishing with a sharp crash that rang a little longer than necessary.
Ethan glanced back at me, lifting a brow. I shrugged.
The crowd didn’t seem to notice. Polite clapping followed, scattered and half-hearted.
“That’s all for tonight,” Noah announced, flashing an easy smile. “Thanks for coming out. And if you’ve got requests for next week’s theme, make sure to drop them in the suggestion box.”
I pulled the straw hat off my head and tossed it onto an amp, running a hand through my hair. I was starting to hate that damn thing.
“You good?” Ethan asked, already unplugging his bass.
“Yeah,” I said automatically. Then, more honestly, “Just kind of tired of these request nights.”
Noah shrugged as he set his mic down. “It’s just for the holiday season. We do this every year.”
“Yeah, but I don’t remember doing three Caribbean Nights in a row,” I said. “Who is even writing these in?”
Ethan chuckled, coiling a cable. “Guess someone really wants a beach vacation.”
“I don’t mind it,” Noah said easily. “They’re simple. Kind of mindless.”
“That’s the problem,” I shot back. “We’ve been playing covers for months. I miss our own stuff.”
They both paused, glancing at each other.
“What if we write something new for the Winter Festival?” I continued, words tumbling out now that I’d started. “Something big. If we’re going for the countdown slot, it should feel special. Different. I’ve already got a couple of beats, some melodies I’ve been messing with. We could run through them at the next practice.”
Noah hesitated. Ethan tilted his head. “Isn’t there a slot on the first day? Maybe during the daytime instead?”
I shook my head immediately. “No. I want the New Year’s Eve slot.”
Both of them looked at me then.
“That’ll have the biggest crowd,” I said, trying to sound casual and failing. “More energy. More people actually paying attention. Daytime sets are fine, but everyone’s distracted, walking around, checking out booths. I’ve played enough festivals to know that.”
Silence stretched for a beat.
