by Violet Paige
“I figured we needed something over-the-top to write about on the blog this week since it is Valentine’s Day and all.” I watched as he snapped a few pictures of the setting with his phone. “I can post a few pics and talk about how this looks just like one of Victoria’s dates. We haven’t had one of the crazy roses-and-candles dates they have on the show. This should definitely help disprove the love theory.” He refilled my glass of champagne.
I bit down hard on my lip. I chugged the cold champagne, feeling the smoothness of the bubbles slide down my throat.
“Hey, London. You ok? You’re awfully quiet.” He finally sat next to me on the cushions and laid the electric blanket over my lap. It was already warm.
I couldn’t talk. If I said anything, my voice was going to crack and tears were going to run down my cheeks. This was the most beautiful date I had ever had and it was all fake. This was for a class project and it didn’t mean anything more to him than that. I wasn’t much different from Nina and her useless crush on Derek.
“Wait. Did you think I was setting this up for real?”
Now he was just rubbing it in. I was the one who had given in to the romantic aura surrounding Valentine’s Day. Talking was still out of the question; my voice would betray me. I felt the tear sliding down my face and I couldn’t stop it.
“Oh shit. London, don’t cry. Why are you crying? I’m not good with crying girls. I have no idea what to do.” Beau nervously shifted positions so he was sitting almost in front of me, leaning on one arm. He edged closer so that I could smell the faintest hint of his cologne.
Sheer panic spread across his face. He looked so worried with his forehead crinkled, that a tiny giggle escaped my mouth.
“That’s better. I like it when you’re laughing.” He reached toward my face and traced the tear off my cheek.
The gesture was pure and intimate. I stared into his eyes. The depths of brown layers were dancing with the flickering candlelight. I held my breath as his hand moved to cup the side of my face and I let my eyes close, feeling the roughness of his palm against my cheek. The longer we sat not moving, the more I felt the want for him building in my chest. I wasn’t sure how to draw him closer to me—I already felt so off balance. But I knew I didn’t want him to feel sorry for me.
“London, do you want it to be real?”
He wasn’t supposed to ask me that. None of this should be happening. Resolved to extricate gracefully from my position, I opened my eyes. Before I could regain control of the situation, Beau’s lips brushed across mine. They were warm and tender, and he tasted better than anyone I had ever kissed. This must be what the show meant by champagne kisses. I shed the warmth of the blanket and any rational thinking. My arms wrapped around his neck as he groaned quietly, deepening the kiss.
My body trembled when his arm enfolded me and eased me onto the cushions his friend had arranged for our planetarium rendezvous. I ran my fingers along his neck and through his hair, urging his mouth onto mine harder. His hand slid down my thigh and tugged under my knee so that my leg coiled around his waist.
I twisted my head to the side, allowing his hot mouth to kiss my neck. His tongue played with my ear. For the first time, I slowly opened my eyes, unsure if I was ready for the reality of what Beau and I were doing.
The flames flickered a bright orange. “Beau, fire!”
“Um…hmm…I feel it too.”
I pushed him forward, knocking him back. “No, it’s on fire. Our picnic basket. Look.”
“Shit.” He jumped up, pulled the champagne bottle from the bucket and turned the ice and water onto the smoldering fire that had begun roasting our grapes and cheese.
“Are the brownies ruined?” I asked as Beau inspected the remnants of our late night snack.
He exhaled. “Yes. But at least nothing else caught on fire.” He tossed the basket and sat next to me. “That was intense.”
“Yeah, I—” I started smoothing my hair and taking light breaths. Did we actual do that?
“Maybe we should call it a night.” He surveyed the charred basket. “This wasn’t how the date was planned. We weren’t supposed to—you know—cross the line.”
He ran his fingers through his hair, and I could tell that my usually cool and casual partner was completely out of his element.
Here it goes. The champagne bubbles were swirling in my head and I had to ask. “What did you think would happen when you bring a girl up to a rooftop on Valentine’s night, give her roses, light everything with candles, and on top of that, give her champagne when you know she can’t drink much? What exactly was the plan, Beau? Sit up here and talk about class theory? You don’t even do the readings.”
I had more bottled up, just ready to spew, but his lips claimed my mouth and the only sensation I felt was the deep burning I had for this boy and his many mixed up signals.
“There. That’s what I had planned, but never in a million years did I think you would let me kiss you.”
Confused, but slightly satisfied he had kissed me again, I sat forward. “You wanted to kiss me?”
“Yeah. Why is that so hard to believe?” He was playing with my hair and I wasn’t sure I could complete my thoughts.
“Because you have been anything but interested since the first day of class. You take every chance you get to remind me we are group partners.”
“And we are. You are my Comm 224 partner. But I’m not the one who came up with the idea to disprove the show. We can’t very well disprove it, if we are proving it, can we?”
The giddiness I had earlier in the night bubbled through my heart like the champagne. “Are we?” I was nervous to ask. This question had been plaguing me since he rolled out of my driveway the other night and every time he looked at me. “Are we proving it?”
“You tell me.” He leaned toward me again, this time pulling me on top of him so that my legs straddled his waist.
I wanted to give in to the impulses raging through my body. “Ok. Stop. Stop.” I inhaled. “This will ruin the entire project. The whole month of blogging we’ve done is a waste. We’ve messed up everything. Oh my God. Oh my God.” I dismounted Beau and paced through the maze of candles. “I’m not going to graduate. I’m going to fail Communication 224. My parents won’t let me move to L.A. and I’m going to end up in the family business after all.”
“Whoa. No one is failing anything.” He stood to face me and grabbed both my shoulders. “Who says we have to tell anyone?”
“What? You think we should act like this didn’t happen?”
I was crushed again. He wanted to pretend as if we never kissed or that his hands weren’t all over me on a blanket surrounded by rose petals. I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to forget this night, but maybe he was right. We should reestablish our partnership.
“No. What I’m saying is we keep blogging as if we were. We tell everyone that the show is still a phony and the dates are not bringing us closer together. We go on the fake dates, but they don’t have to be so fake anymore. It stays between us.” I was beginning to like the devilish expression in Beau’s eyes.
“But isn’t that lying? The entire experiment is rigged if we do that.” I couldn’t deny I liked the prospect of going on a real date with Beau, but I wasn’t totally comfortable with lying to the whole school or to Professor Garcia.
“You said it yourself. If we come clean now, the whole month’s worth of work we’ve done was for nothing. If we admit that our hypothesis was wrong, what kind of project do we have to present? It doesn’t test or challenge anything about the show. Why can’t we keep this between us? Unless you want to go back to being just partners—nothing more. We can do that too. It’s your decision, London. I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to do.”
Something in the way he handed me the power to decide made it easy to choose. I walked over to him and let my hands explore the hardness of his chest before wrapping them around his neck.
“You mean, we don’t tell an
yone I just did that?”
He nodded while leaning down to nibble on my ear. “And definitely don’t tell them I did that.”
I laughed. “Ok. Deal. We keep the fake dating going.”
“Awesome. This project just got a whole lot better.” Beau growled into my neck. “Now, let’s get out of here before my friend finds out we almost burned down the planetarium.”
8
“Tell me what you think about this.” Beau cleared his throat and read from the screen on his open laptop.
“Valentine’s Night: Re-creation of Victoria and Seth’s candlelit barn date in Barcelona
Show Myth to debunk: Lavish romantic settings will forge romantic feelings
Love Match wants you to believe that by giving girls roses, filling them with champagne, and lighting everything within two feet with a candle, she’s going to fall for you. Guys, it’s just not true. Take Saturday night. There were more roses than I could count, a starry sky, a little bubbly, and no sparks—nothing. Sure, it was a nice night to spend with a friend from class, but probably not how I would normally choose to spend my Saturday night. Don’t let reality shows fool you. You can’t make feelings out of candlelight. I posted pictures so everyone can see just how closely the setting looked like one of the Love Match dates. Until next week’s dating report.—B.A.”
“Ouch. No sparks?” I wrinkled my nose. “It’s great. Can’t wait to read the comments you’ll receive.”
“Your turn. What are you going to post?”
“Are you sure you’re ready to read it? Can you handle it?” I taunted him.
“Hit me. I can take it.”
“Every time I watch Love Match, I become more and more disillusioned with love. The show exhibits no limits in perpetuating the stereotype that all a guy needs to do to win a girl’s heart is buy into the commercialism that is copycat romance. Saturday night, my Comm partner followed the show’s lead to a T, sparing no detail. Girls, you should have seen it. There were candles everywhere, champagne, and even rose petals. Most of you reading this blog probably think that we had the perfect date. Champagne and roses don’t create love. Real human connections and understanding do. As much as Love Match wants you to believe that people can be forced into falling in love, I want you to know it isn’t reality.—L.J.”
“No one can accuse you of holding back, movie star.”
“Is it too harsh? Do you think people will read right through it?” I worried every girl on campus was going to scan it and know deep down all I wanted was a million nights with Beau, champagne, and a bed of rose petals.
“No. I think it’s fine. We need to get this posted. The next episode comes on in fifteen minutes.” He looked around my room. “Too bad you don’t have a TV in here.”
“The three of us share the one in the living room. It’s called roughing it. But we should be alone. Candace is over at Pearce’s tonight and I’m pretty sure Nina is somewhere with Derek.”
Beau stopped typing. “You know, that Derek guy is a jerk.”
It had only been two days since the opening of Spoiled Hearts. Other than seeing him on the side of the stage yesterday during our two shows, I hadn’t had any contact with the moody director. The incident with my ass and his strange behavior in the dressing room had to be from preshow stress.
“He’s really not that bad. I think you met him at a high stress time. He’s a great writer and director.”
“I don’t know about that side of him, but you should be careful around him.”
“Careful? Nina has totally been crushing on him for years. He is harmless.” A nagging thought in the back of my head suggested otherwise.
“I don’t know why a fun girl like Nina would be after him.”
“Because she’s a hopeless romantic. She can’t help herself. Come on; get that thing posted so we can watch Love Match.”
This was the first time Beau and I had seen each other since our Saturday night pact, which we sealed with a kiss. The theater was closed Monday nights, so I had the night off. It was perfect timing for us to watch Love Match together. When we texted back and forth about getting together, everything seemed the same—as if the kissing never happened. But when I heard the roar of his motorcycle rumble in the driveway, I realized seeing him again was going to be anything but normal.
“Posted.” He smiled.
“Ok, I’ll start the popcorn; you start the show. Want a beer?”
“Yeah, I’ll take one.”
Not wanting to deplete Candace’s beer supply for Pearce, I had made a run to the grocery store earlier in the day. I met Beau in the living room, with a hot bowl of popcorn and two cold beers. I handed one to him.
He laughed. “I see you got screw tops. Nice.”
I twisted the lid and tossed it on the coffee table. I wasn’t going to spend one second of this night looking like an idiot—twist cap lids were my first smooth move.
“Cheers.” I held up the beer and we clinked the bottles.
The realization hit me that I wasn’t sure what to do next. Nestle into the crook of his shoulder? Wait and let him make the first move? Sit close, but not too close? My mind raced with possible places to sit that would let him know I wanted to be near him, but only if he felt the same way. His leg was thrown up so that his ankle rested across his knee. There was a perfect spot for me to maneuver so that I was under his arm, but I couldn’t decide if it was too suggestive to slide against his body like that.
He turned the volume louder with the remote. “Hi, I’m your host, Mitch Henderson. On tonight’s episode of Love Match, Victoria has a heartbreaking decision to make.”
“Are you watching this with me?” Beau reached out with his left arm, hooked it around my waist, and pulled me so that I was pressed into his side. Crook of the shoulder it is.
Mitch Henderson continued, not knowing I had just cleared my first obstacle of the night. “One of the bachelors has been keeping a secret. It’s a shocking revelation that will bring our bachelorette to tears.”
“I don’t care what we decided to do with the project; I still think this show is ridiculous.” I looked at Beau as he drank his beer.
He laughed. “I won’t argue.”
I tried to relax into his arm as the episode began. It had never been this hard to concentrate on Love Match before. Victoria and her date were dressed in medieval costumes and were climbing the stairs of a castle in Scotland. The guy looked absurd in a velvet floppy hat. I wasn’t paying enough attention to know why they had on costumes. Beau had moved his hand to my leg and every few seconds his palm pressed into my thigh and ran smoothly toward my knee.
“Good. It’s a commercial.” He shifted my hair from the side of my neck and his lips began roaming the space closest to my shoulder.
I closed my eyes and leaned into his chest. My hands had exploring of their own to do. I grabbed the inside of his leg and worked my hand up until I elicited a full groan from his lips. Beau wasn’t a bad boy, but sneaking around like this felt a little dangerous and naughty—it was definitely a turn on. My mind heard the keys rattling in the door, but my body was elevated by the kisses Beau was firing down my neck.
“Dammit,” Nina muttered on the other side of the door. It sounded like her keys hit the porch.
Climbing out of the heat, I pushed against Beau, kicking one of the beers over in my panic. “Nina’s home. Shit.”
Nina opened the door with a surprised smile on her face. I was on the floor, scrambling for the beer bottle before more ended up under the couch.
“Hey, y’all. What’s up?”
“Uh. I’m such a klutz. Spilled my beer.” I smothered a giggle as I saw Beau reach for Ugly Quilt and throw it over his waist. I ran to the kitchen to grab a few paper towels.
I called back to Nina, “I thought you were out with Derek.”
“Ugh.” She sank into the recliner. “No. He said he wanted to write tonight. Alone. Can you believe that? We have one night off from the play and he wants to write. Wha
t are doing?”
Beau watched me as I sopped the sticky mess. “Love Match. Class project.” He pointed to the TV.
“Oh. Good. I hope I didn’t miss much. I totally forgot to record it tonight. What’s the big secret?” Nina eyed me.
I froze. Oh, God. She already knew. I was stupid to think I would be able to keep this from my best friend. She had probably seen something through the window.
Beau answered before I could form a clear sentence. “Don’t know yet. Victoria and one of the bachelors went to a castle to reenact one of the medieval love stories from the town. She hasn’t gone on the second date yet.”
That must be why they had on the costumes. How could he pay attention to the show while he was sending me over the edge?
“Cool. Can I have some popcorn?” Nina reached into the bowl that was resting, untouched on the table. “I’m Nina, by the way. We haven’t officially met.”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Beau.”
Beau smiled at me. Hiding this relationship was going to be a lot harder than I thought and it was going to take a lot more than Ugly Quilt to do it.
Date Five: Hunted Love
Beau had planned our first four dates. It was only fair that I start contributing to the execution of this project. Spoiled Hearts ended its one-week run last night, and other than sitting next to him in class, I hadn’t spent any time with Beau since we watched Love Match together on Monday. My entire Saturday was devoted to preparing for the date. It was time I tried to surprise the campus expert on all things Carolina with something I knew he hadn’t done yet.
“No peeking.” I had wrapped the blindfold around his eyes as tightly as I could without hurting him.
“You’re not going to give me some kind of clue?” Beau was outwardly amused by the date I created.
“No way. I’m in charge today. You just have to trust me.”
“Does it involve body paint, bagpipes, or a floating hot tub?”
I laughed. The floating hot tub would have been fun, but I couldn’t find one of those in Chapel Hill on such short notice. “None of the above. You’ll see.”
