“Can't you go any damn slower?!” Esteban rose from his seat, slamming his sticks down onto one of his floor Toms. His glare was deadly, you swore if looks could kill you'd be dead where you stood.

“It's not me who's dragging— you're the one out of tempo!” you snapped back. This was your typical rehearsal, the two of you going at each other's throats for the smallest mistake one of you made. At this point the rest of the band believed this was some weird ass way of flirting between the two of you. 

He merely scoffed before crossing his arms, a childish pout upon his lips. “Yeah blame it on me, why don't you? Eres insufrible!”