London Falling (6 page)

Beau caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting a lecture on seizing the moment. “Wait. Is this one of the things on your list?”

He leaned into the table and smiled. “No. But what does it matter?”

“It doesn’t. You’re right. It’s a beautiful night.” I took another sip of my wine and felt it warm me down to my toes.

“Something bothering you? You’ve seemed a little off since you got here.”

Being a little off was becoming a trend whenever I was around Beau. I wasn’t sure if the wine had already gone to my head, but I told him why I was late arriving to our non-date.

“It’s one of my roommates. She’s dating a football player and they broke up for about five minutes. I thought she would figure out he’s just using her, but she took him back. It’s depressing seeing someone you care about be treated that way.”

“That sucks. Who is she dating?”

“Pearce Hudson.”

“Whoa. You know Pearce Hudson?”

“Try not to sound so excited. He’s really a dick and I hate how he treats my friend.” My mood was souring the rooftop atmosphere.

“He’s only the best wide receiver to ever play at Carolina.” I shot him a be-careful stare. “But sorry to hear he’s such an asshole to your roommate.”

I laughed. “Thanks. That actually makes me feel better. Now, if only we could get Candace to see it.”

“Well, do you want some unsolicited advice?”

I looked at him cautiously, although I was dying to know his male perspective on this problem. “Sure. What should I do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? That’s your helpful advice?”

“If he really is a jerk, she will eventually figure it out and then she’s going to need you to help her do whatever girls do to get over asshole boyfriends. Drink wine. Eat chocolate or something. The point is, if you interfere now, you won’t get to be that person for her when she really needs you.”

I was surprised. It was exactly the advice Nina and I needed but couldn’t hear through all of the Pearce drama. “That’s really—sweet, I guess.”

“I have my moments.” He winked. “What about you? Are you dating the quarterback?”

I almost spit my wine out. “No, I’m not dating a football player.” I wished I had said I wasn’t dating anyone. Suddenly, I wanted Beau to know I was single. Although, it shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter. He didn’t need to know my personal love life status. I abandoned clarifying my relationship situation and focused on my wine drinking. He had chosen an excellent merlot.

He raised his glass. “Since we’re supposed to be mimicking
Love Match
. Let’s make a toast.”

Every date on that show had no less than three toasts. They were always toasting to true love, finding forever, or dreaming big.

“Do you have something in mind?”

“How about to making it count?”

“Isn’t that a quote from
Titanic
?” I would be surprised if he had seen the epically tragic movie.

“I don’t know. It sounds like something they would say on the show.”

I inhaled the icy January air and raised my glass until it tapped Beau’s.

“To making it count.” I smiled at him over the rim of my glass. His eyes were locked on mine. A little chill rippled through my chest and it wasn’t from the air. I was completely caught off guard.

“You sure you’re ok, London?”

I nodded vigorously, trying to convince myself more than Beau.

“All right. We’ve got two parts to this not-date. Ready to go paint some pottery?”

“Um. Yes. Let’s do that.”

Beau was standing next to the table with a hand extended. I hesitated, for a second, but placed my hand in his.

“Ok. Pottery Paints. Here we come.”

During last week’s episode, Victoria took five of her suitors to a pottery shop where the men painted various figures in an effort to capture the eye of the bachelorette. By the end of the date, the guy with the best piece of art received a rose and some special one-on-one time. Beau and I laughed at the guys’ attempts to make a bisque model car or frog look like anything other than an elementary school project.

Pottery Paints, the studio on Franklin Street, was brightly lit. Across one wall was an assortment of plain, untouched clay molds. On the opposite wall were the finished products of the customers who had spent time in Pottery Paints.

I selected a canister with a lid that had a small bird perched on top. I watched Beau as he scanned the choices. He reached for a plate.

“What are you going to paint on there?” I asked.

“I thought I’d go ahead and make the commemorative championship plate.” He started sorting through the various shades of blue on display.

“What kind of championship?”

For a second, I thought there was something on my face. His shocked expression had me brushing my cheeks.

“What kind of championship? Girl, you’re at the mecca for college basketball. I’m talking about our championship.”

“Oh. Ok. Cool.” I sat on the bench next to him.

“Well, I learned something about you tonight.” His voice was playful.

“What’s that?”

“You are definitely not a sports fan.”

“I guess it’s that obvious.” Part of me wished I had been more observant growing up around so many sports fans, but I was always more interested in reading or watching a Lauren Bacall movie.

“Uh-huh.” He was penciling in a victory slogan on the plate. “Should I quiz you on the difference between off sides versus a false start?”

“No, no, no. I admit, I know nothing. I kind of burned out on all the sports frenzy as a kid.”

“So what do you do for fun?”

I thought that maybe he already knew. “I’m an actress. Maybe you’ve seen some of my shows on campus.”

“Doubt it.”

I laughed. “You haven’t been to any plays on campus? None?”

“I had to go to a few my freshman year as a lab requirement for Drama 15, but since then I haven’t been to any. Are you any good?”

I noticed the bird on top of my canister was the same blue he was using for the lettering on his plate. I wasn’t sure how to answer that question. “Why don’t you come to one of the shows and see for yourself?”

“Really?” He stopped painting and looked up.

“Yes. We can do something after. Maybe one of the
Love Match
dates. We’ll blog about it.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t tell if he was disappointed. Did I say the wrong thing?

“Our new play,
Spoiled Hearts
, opens in two weeks. I’ll email you the showtimes.”

“Wait. Isn’t that Valentine’s Day weekend?”

Shit. I hadn’t thought about that. “I guess so. Do you have other plans? We can do it another time.”

“No. Between marking things off my list, going to class, writing my blog, and fake dating you, I don’t have Valentine’s plans.”

His answer made me unexpectedly giddy. I had never bothered to ask him if he had a girlfriend—it shouldn’t matter in a pretend relationship. However, all of a sudden, I was satisfied knowing he had an open calendar.

“Do you think they’ll want to sell this awesome plate?” He held up his masterpiece, littered with number ones and Carolina blue paint.

I cringed. “I think they’ll probably let you keep that one.”

We dropped off our painted pieces with the girl at the counter. She told us it would be a week before they would be glazed and fired. We could pick them up then.

Beau opened the door for me as we exited the pottery studio. I pulled my coat around me tightly and rubbed my arms.

“Do you need a ride or something?” Of course, he wasn’t wearing a coat, but I thought I saw him shiver.

“I walked. I’m only a few blocks away.”

“What kind of bachelor would I be if I let you walk home? It’s late. I’ll take you.”

“Ok. Where are you parked?”

“Right here.”

He pointed to a black and chrome motorcycle wedged between two giant SUVs. He handed me a helmet as he climbed on the bike. With a flick of the wrist, the bike roared to life.

“Coming?” He patted the seat behind his back.

I had never been on a motorcycle before. They were noisy and scary. I was sure my mom would have a heart attack if she saw me climbing on the bike right now. I slid one leg over the side until my body aligned with Beau’s. I tried to sit up straight, so I wasn’t pressed so close to him.

“Hold on tight.”

He grabbed my hands and locked them around his chest. The muscles under his shirt felt as hard as I imagined. Wait, I hadn’t imagined what they would felt like, had I?

He walked us backward and then revved the bike forward, leaving the wine bar and Pottery Paints behind us. Funny, I was freezing, but I loved the bike. I felt free, even wrapped around Beau.

Within minutes, he pulled into my gravel driveway. Not sure how long I should keep my hands on his chest, I dropped the embrace as soon as he took off his helmet.

“Thanks, Beau. I had fun tonight.” I hesitated before handing him the helmet. I didn’t know how fake dates were supposed to end. Nina’s nagging voice echoed in the back of my head. She would want me to invite him in. Instead, I spun on my heels and walked toward the front door. “See you in class.”

“Night, London.” He revved the engine a few times and spun out of the driveway.

What was it I called Beau only a few hours ago? Regular? After our fake date tonight, I wasn’t sure that was entirely true. I watched his taillights round the corner. I needed to get inside, start working on the blog, and stop thinking about Beau Anderson.

CHAPTER FIVE

Beau didn’t strike me as the type of overachieving student that I had always been. He seemed too cool and calm, as if nothing ever worked him up. When he texted me the morning after our wine and pottery date, I did a double take.

Finished my blog. Check it out.

His work was finished before mine. Nervously, I logged into the site he had created for us on Blog Hits and read his rendition of our fake date.

First Date: Re-creation of Victoria and Bachelors painting pottery and private wine bar party

Show Myth to Debunk: Mandatory fun and alcohol consumption create bonding moments, bringing couples closer together

This is my first blog chronicling the
Love Match
dates I’m going on each week with my Comm 224 partner, London James. For those of you who have read my other blogs, you know I don’t hold back—I’m honest and to the point. Expect nothing less from my accounts during this project.

London and I met at the wine bar. My date was late. I guess it wasn’t too far off from a real date. When is a girl ever ready on time? After we ordered a glass of wine, we sat on the upper terrace. We had the entire rooftop to ourselves. This is the part of the show when the bachelors usually reveal something private and revealing about themselves. And this sudden revelation of true deep dark secrets is supposed to bring the couple closer together. That didn’t happen with us.

Hmm. I nervously read the last line. I didn’t share much with Beau on the rooftop, but talking to him about Candace and Pearce did make me feel a little closer to him. Maybe I was only divulging the troubles in my roommates’ lives, but it felt like opening the door to something. Like I could tell him more—tell him about my parents or about the problems with the play, or just talk about anything and he would listen. I reread the words and wondered if he was trying to protect Candace’s privacy or if the exchange just didn’t have the same effect on him.

Next up, we walked over to Pottery Paints. To do what? You guessed it: paint some pottery. I made an awesome championship plate. Pics to be posted soon. I discovered my date isn’t a sports fan. I know there are a lot of girls out there who don’t like sports, so guys, this can happen to anyone. Once I knew that, it was hard to come up with other things to talk about. Little bonding commenced over painting.