by T. A. Foster
I had turned down tickets to Carolina basketball games for four years. I never participated in the lottery drawings, or camped out for hours before a game just to sit behind the basket. So why didn’t I hesitate for even a second when Beau asked me to go with him?
Fans donned from head to toe in light blue filtered past me. I sidestepped a dad who had his little girl perched on his shoulder. Why did they make cheerleading outfits for people who weren’t two feet tall yet? Ok, she was cute with the matching pom-poms. I wasn’t even sure I was in the right place at the Dean Dome. He had told me to meet him outside the basketball museum.
This date was going to tie in perfectly with the last episode of Love Match. Victoria and the bachelors went to a San Antonio Spurs practice and failed miserably at team drills. The guy who scored the most points in the game of three-on-three won a ticket with Victoria to go to that night’s game. I wasn’t sure why the producers thought a sporting event would be romantic. After the buzzer sounded, the bachelorette and her date wandered the borders of the San Antonio Riverwalk and tasted every type of tequila they could sample. I was glad Beau and I already had our margarita night—tequila sounded terrible right now.
“London. Hey!” Beau walked up in a short-sleeve T-shirt and jeans. “Ready? We’ve got to get in if we’re going to get halfway decent seats.” He handed me a ticket.
“What do you mean? Don’t we have seats?” He was already jogging ahead of me, slipping past the older fans taking their time with the steps.
He stopped in his tracks to look at me. “Haven’t you been to a game before?”
I thought about lying, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull off that act tonight. “No. First one.” I smiled brightly.
“Good God, girl. Ok, come on.” He pulled on my elbow and guided me up the staircase. He launched into a quick rundown of the student seating system. “We have tickets, but they aren’t assigned. The student sections are first come, first serve. If we get here too late, we’ll end up in the rafters. Now that I know this is your first game, we are not sitting in the nosebleed section.”
I was nervous. Sitting in the rafters sounded terrible. I had a quick flash of the rock climbing wall.
After the event staff at the front door scanned our tickets, Beau took off running, pulling me with him. It seemed completely natural that my hand was locked in his. I could hear the horn section of the band and we funneled down the stairs taking us to the lowest level of the dome.
A man in a yellow T-shirt with an overbearing mustache held up his hand. “Sorry, folks. This section is full. You need to go up there.” He pointed toward the upper level.
I bit my lower lip—I wasn’t sure how high the seats were that he wanted us to sit in, but I didn’t think my stomach or my sweaty palms could handle it.
Beau turned to me. “Give me a sec.”
He slung his arm around the staffer’s shoulder and cupped his hand over his mouth while he talked into the man’s ear. The guy looked at me and then smiled. He nodded at Beau.
“I think I miscounted down here. Yep. Two more spots on the other end. Walk around. Enjoy the game.” He patted Beau on the back and climbed a few more rows behind us to help an alumna with her armrest.
Beau took my hand in his warm palm, a gesture that I was starting to like, and lead me to the other side of the student section. We squeezed next to a student whose chest was covered by a painted U. I noticed the boys next to him had painted torsos as well. A big N and C had been drawn on their chests.
“What did you say to Mustache Man to get him to let us sit here?” I leaned toward Beau’s ear so, hopefully, the lettered fans next to me wouldn’t hear.
“Secret. I can’t you tell you that.” He flashed a smile. “Like the seats?”
I wasn’t going to prod him anymore. I looked around. We were in the heart of the Dean Dome. From my seat, I could see every muscle flinching on the players as they warmed up on the court, the coaches’ scribbling on their clipboards, and the comic movements of Rameses—who was headed our way.
I pulled out my phone. “Would you take my picture? It’s on the list.”
Beau tilted his head sideways. “You’re marking things off my list for your list?”
“Yes. Quick, take it before I don’t have another chance.” I tugged on the snuggly ram’s arm as he approached my seat. He wrapped his big matted hoof around my shoulder and shot Beau a number one.
“Hold on, Rameses.” Beau tapped the screen on my phone and jumped on the other side of the mascot. He extended his long arm and clicked a picture of all three of us. “This will look great on the blog.”
“Thanks, Rameses.” I hugged the big mascot before he was tugged in a different direction by another fan. I looked at the picture on my phone. It was the first picture I had of Beau, and I had to keep myself from blushing. He looked cute. We looked cute together, even if there was a big stuffed ram between us.
The buzzer rang out through the building. It was game time. Beau started jumping up and down next to me, and I noticed all of the students looked like bouncing popcorn.
“Come on, jump, London. Jump around.” He laughed and started bouncing out of control.
It was contagious. I became a jumping bean, mimicking the frenetic energy of the students in our section. I smiled at Beau. This was fun.
***
“What did you think of your first Carolina basketball game?” Beau and I walked into the crisp February night. I was actually hot after all the jumping and dancing. The air felt good.
“We won. It was awesome.”
“And why was that your first game?”
“I was asking myself the same thing. I feel like I probably missed out on something for four years. That was so much fun. Thanks for taking me.”
“At least you’re not a basketball virgin anymore.”
Good thing my cheeks were already flushed from the cheering frenzy, or hearing Beau mention virginity, even in a sports context, would certainly make me blush. Why was my mind even going there?
“What do you want to do now?” he asked over the roaring hum of the buses parked in front of the sidewalk. We had made our way to the bottom of the stairs and there was a long line of fans waiting to board the buses.
“Oh, I didn’t know you wanted to do anything else.” He caught me off guard. Was this a continuation of the fake date? I was having a hard time distinguishing between the project and us just being ourselves.
“Right. No. Never mind. You probably have plans. I’ll catch you in class next week.” He was backpedaling in front of my eyes.
“Wait. I don’t have plans. Let’s do something.”
“Yeah?” He was smiling.
“Yes. But can we go somewhere a little warmer? I’m starting to freeze again.”
He laughed. “All right, movie star. Let’s get you warmed up.”
I liked how he said that. I felt warmer already.
***
I stood behind Beau at the Caffe Driade counter. I insisted on buying my tea. These were supposed to be fake dates, but so far Beau had bought wine, margaritas, and snagged an extra game ticket for me. I had to pull my weight in this nonexistent relationship.
“I’ll grab us a table.” He was holding an oversized mug. I giggled when I saw the heart-shaped foam swirled on top of his coffee. The redhead behind the counter watched him walk away.
I ordered my decaf triple berry tea, paid, and slid into the seat across from Beau.
“Don’t you drink coffee?” Beau’s upper lip was coated with part of the foam heart.
“Hold on. You have a little something.” I reached over and let the top of my thumb graze his full lips. Under my touch they felt firm and suddenly, very kissable. I realized my cheeks were burning. No doubt, the barista was taking this all in. She hadn’t stopped staring at Beau.
“Thanks.” He reached for a napkin. “How’s your tea?”
Embarrassed I had moved into his personal space, I tried to talk my way into dis
traction. “Good. I love berry tea.” Ugh. Not the most riveting comments. I took a cautious sip.
“Tell me something about London James, actress and basketball novice.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know. Where are you from? Do you have parents?”
I laughed. Beau was good at breaking the ice. “Yes, I have parents. They live in Asheville, in the same house I grew up in.”
“That’s a cool place to grow up.”
“I guess so. I hadn’t really thought about it like that. I’m not a fan of the snow or winter in general, so I’ve made plans for as long as I can remember to head somewhere warmer.”
“Is that why you are so determined to move to L.A.? You are running from snowflakes?”
“I’m not running from anything. I told you I want to be an actress. I am an actress.”
Beau raised his hands in defense. “I’m just teasing you, London. I know L.A. is important to you.” He sipped his coffee, careful to avoid the foam mustache this time. “What do your parents say about all of it? Are they ok with you moving across the country?”
I sighed. “No. They are definitely not ok with it, but we have an agreement. As long as I graduate with As, I can go and do anything I want. They said they’ll support me for the first six months, and then I’m on my own. I either come back home to Asheville or I pay my way in California.”
“Hmm.” Beau looked like he was working through a calculus problem.
“What? You don’t approve?”
“No. That’s not it. I think it’s awesome you’re going to do what you want. But now, I get your need to have all As all the time. It makes more sense. You make a lot more sense.”
“Thanks. I think.” I wasn’t sure what ideas Beau was forming about me.
“It’s good. Too many people have to give up their dreams.”
I couldn’t blame alcohol since all I had at the game was a Coke and now I was sipping on a berry tea, but the question popped out of my mouth. “Like you?”
He looked puzzled. “What does that mean?”
“Do you really want to go to law school and follow in your mother’s footsteps?”
“Sure. Why not?”
I was crossing a line, but I didn’t want to retreat. “You aren’t the lawyer type.”
“Excuse me?”
“You’re too adventurous, Beau, to be stuck behind a desk or in meetings all day. You would die from boredom taking depositions and arguing in a courtroom. Ok, you are good at arguing, but you would get tired of it.”
His laugh resonated around the coffeehouse. I didn’t like the attention we were getting from the other coffee drinkers and that darn barista.
“For someone I’m fake dating, you sure seem to think you know a lot about who I am and what I need or want.”
I contained an impulse to gulp. Want? Could he see that I all I wanted right now was to taste those lips? He leaned toward me and his eyes blazed right through me, making my knees go weak. He was right. I did think I knew him, and everything about his plan after graduation didn’t feel right. He was right about something else too—I wasn’t his girlfriend. Hearing him say it made me want part of it to be different.
“Just call me your observant fake girlfriend.”
Beau shuffled in his seat and cleared his throat. Ok. I took it too far.
“You ready?” Beau stood next to the table. I guess that was the cue the date was over.
“Sure.”
I followed him out of the coffeehouse and hesitated in front of his motorcycle. I felt like I had turned the date upside down. I should have opened up more and told him I knew what it was like to be expected to live a certain life. That I knew how hard it is to break free from the guilt of disappointing people you care about because you never want them to think you’re anything but a success. However, I didn’t tell him any of that. As easy as it was for me to pour my heart out on stage and eke out every human emotion for the world to see, sharing all of that with Beau would make me more vulnerable than I wanted to be.
“Can I get a ride?”
Beau didn’t answer. He handed me the passenger helmet and waited while I mounted the back of the bike. Before I could decide where to put my hands, he reached behind his waist, grabbed both of my arms, and wrapped them securely around his chest.
I pressed my body against his back and let my cheek rest against his shirt. He squeezed my hand before revving the bike and whipping us out of the parking lot. We had stopped talking, but not communicating.
When we pulled into my driveway, the lights were out at the house. Nina was probably asleep and Candace was still at Pearce’s place.
I swung my leg off the bike and looked at Beau. Standing next to him felt different. I wasn’t ready for our fake date to be done. There was something stirring in me that had been swirling for weeks. I ran through a quick list of ways to stall, but all I could focus on were those lips and dark eyes. My mind was a total blank.
“Good night, London.” Beau fit his helmet over his head and closed the sun visor.
Just as I was taking a step to the side to let him roll the bike backward, he reached up and traced the side of my face. I hesitated, unsure how to stop him from leaving, but just as quickly as he made the gesture, he rolled out of the driveway and down Mallette Street.
I felt the stirring sensation as he drove away. Shit! No. No. No. Nina was right. I had a crush on Beau Anderson.
CHAPTER SEVEN
When Derek first pitched the idea of Spoiled Hearts and opening it Valentine’s night, I thought it was smart. Standing behind the curtain with a packed house crammed into our experimental basement theater, I knew he wasn’t just smart, he was brilliant.
“London, I really want to talk to you after the show,” Derek whispered in my ear just as I took my mark on stage. Something about the way his lips almost grazed my earlobe gave me chills.
“Ok, but I have plans. It will have to be quick.” I smiled at him and inched to the side, careful not to leave the general area of my mark.
I shook my hands next to my side and inhaled deeply. It was my last second ritual before the show began. Madame Marguerite, my classical ballet instructor, had taught me the technique the night of my first recital and the tradition was born.
“Break a leg.” He swatted me on the ass, letting his fingers trail across my butt as he walked away. What in the hell was that?
I focused on my breathing and tried to shake the aggravated feeling. Derek had never touched me, much less on a place on my body he had no right to feel. I could hear the music rising, the lights were on, and it was showtime—my favorite time. I shook my palms once more, and then closed my eyes just as the curtain rose from the floor.
***
For the third time, I trotted to the front of the stage and took a deep bow. The audience hadn’t stopped clapping and the whistling was outrageous. This was by far the best reception our troupe had ever received on opening night. I was giddy and ecstatic. I couldn’t see past the blaring spotlights, but I knew somewhere in the audience my Comm 224 partner was applauding and waiting for our date to begin.
Finally, the lights dimmed and I hustled backstage, eager to change out of my costume and makeup.
“London, you were amazing.”
“Great role for you, girl.”
“You killed it out there tonight.”
I smiled and thanked everyone as I rushed past the crew and my costars. The company was gathering on stage to celebrate, so I had a few minutes alone in the shared girls’ dressing room.
I smiled at my reflection in the Hollywood-style mirror and immediately began the process of dismantling the heavy eye makeup caked on my face. Beau was waiting for me somewhere in the crowd outside the door.
Ever since our basketball date, it had been harder to stop thinking about him. We definitely had a moment in the driveway. The problem was that I couldn’t talk to anyone about it. I was not supposed to be having any kind of moments with him. I don�
��t know how everything in me was all of a sudden so thrown by Beau Anderson.
When I saw him in class on Tuesday, I couldn’t even make eye contact without my cheeks turning a shade of bright pink. The kind of pink that shouted, I have a huge crush on you. He didn’t seem to notice and that seemed to make it worse.
Tonight, I had resolved to have fun and try to focus on the project. This date was for a grade. I had to keep reminding myself of that. It just didn’t help that it was Valentine’s night, and my partner was all of a sudden the hottest guy I had wrapped my arms around.
