London Falling (8 page)

“Are you talking about your bucket list again?”

“No, not necessarily. I mean leave your own legacy. Surprise people.”

That was the only cue I needed. Laughing, I slid out of the booth.

“London, I’m not going up there with you again,” Beau called out to me as I hopped on the stage. I rescued the crowd from a trio trying to sing a bad Village People song.

A light round of applause sounded as I grabbed the mic. I covered it and whispered to the DJ.

“Ok, La Playa, this is a very special song, for a very special friend of mine. Someone who told me I should seize the moment and surprise people. Mr. Beau Anderson. Right over there. Yep, there he is. This one’s for you, Beau.”

He ducked down and slid lower in the booth.

I lowered my head as the sounds of piano notes filled the cantina. The music pushed the lyrics forward and I started singing
Stay
. This was by far my favorite Rihanna song and I had sung it a hundred times in the shower. Tonight, I was going to share it with the world—the world according to La Playa.

The song ended and I curtsied, handed the mic back to the DJ, and rejoined Beau.

“London James, ladies and gentlemen. Full of surprises.” He raised his glass to me.

I laughed and finished off my margarita. “Another round?”

“Oh no. I think it’s time we call it a night.”

Disappointed, I picked up my bag. I couldn’t keep the words bottled up. Tequila was an unwelcome filter eraser. “Why? You have a hot date or something?”

Beau’s eyebrow raised higher than the other one. “No. I have an intramural game tomorrow and I can’t stay out all night drinking with my Comm partner.”

“Oh.” I felt silly. “What sport?”

“It’s basketball. The championship game is tomorrow and I want to get that T-shirt.”

“T-shirt?”

Beau sighed. “I keep forgetting. You don’t know about sports. There’s a championship for all the intramural teams. The winners get an intramural T-shirt. It
is
one of the things on my bucket list. I’ve played sports four years here and never won the grande prix of shirts. Tomorrow’s the day.”

He maneuvered me toward the exit of La Playa. This was only my third motorcycle ride, but I already felt like an expert. I swung my leg over the side and clipped my helmet on, pulling snugly on the chin strap.

The bike roared into the gravel drive. Nina had left the porch light on for me. It was unlikely Candace was home.

“Thanks for the rock climbing and the margaritas, Comm partner.” I tried to attach the helmet to the seat, but I kept missing.

“Um. London, are you drunk?”

“Drunk? Me?” Why couldn’t I put the helmet on the seat? I missed the hook again.

Beau cut the engine on the bike and dismounted, taking the helmet from my hand and magically hooking it to the backseat.

“Wait, how did you do that?” I was sure the bottom of the helmet was solid and could no longer attach to the seat.

“Let’s get you inside, lightweight.”

Ha. Ha. He called me a lightweight. I’d like to see him try to bench press me. Wait, do I want him to bench press me?

While I was visualizing Beau in the gym on a flat bench with me twisted around a weight bar, he reached for me and scooped me into those ridiculously sculpted arms. This was the second time tonight he had wrapped me in those limbs of steel.

I was sure the
Dirty Dancing
soundtrack was playing when he nudged open the front door and carried me into the house. He surveyed the room before settling on the couch. He situated me on the cushions and tugged on the heels of my boots. Displaced from my feet, he set them on the floor.

“You still singing?”

Ok, maybe it wasn’t a soundtrack. It was me.

“Oh, Ugly Quilt.” I reached out for the comfy blanket.

He chuckled. “Ugly Quilt, huh?” He pulled it from the couch and tucked it around my body.

I pulled the blanket up to my chin and turned toward the wall. The room seemed to spin a little less if I stayed cocooned on my side.

“Good night, movie star.”

I couldn’t tell in my tequila haze what happened next, but it felt like he kissed the top of my head before closing the door behind him.

CHAPTER SIX

Theater groups were anything but quiet, and with my pounding hangover headache from last night’s margarita mishap, it wasn’t the kind of loud I wanted. I sipped on some water, hoping the ibuprofen I had taken would kick in soon.

Derek walked over to where I was sitting on the couch and shoved a few pages in my hand.

“What’s this?”

“I rewrote the third act last night. You have new lines. I thought we could work through some of it today.”

“Derek, we open next Saturday. That’s only one week from today. You think we can do this?”

“There isn’t anyone I trust more to get it done. I wrote it just for you.” The scruffy playwright reached down and tried to hug me from the side.

Nina appeared in the doorway. I pushed out of Derek’s half-hug.

“Hi. Wanna help me with some new lines?” I held up the fresh pages of the script.

Nina plopped down next to me. “Sure. There are new lines?” She had an accusatory stare pointed at Derek.

I was going to coral him into the conversation, but he retreated to the opposite side of the basement where Doug started asking him lighting questions. I flinched and gripped my head as the lights started flickering all around us. I made a mental note to consume much less tequila.

“That was awkward. What’s going on with you two?” I didn’t know how much Nina would tell me with so many actor ears in the vicinity. Plus, I didn’t want to press her, considering all of the boy drama we were handling with Candace. I wanted to be her supportive friend, not the pushy one.

“Nothing. Not a thing. That’s the problem.” She sighed as she watched Derek discussing houselights. “But, I heard a certain motorcycle in our driveway last night. How was the date?”

“Ugh. Once again, I made a complete idiot of myself. I mean, I did, and then I didn’t because I was on stage, but then I did again because I got drunk. I’m a disaster when that guy is around.”

Nina giggled. “I think someone has a crush.”

I swatted at her with the newly written act three. “Do not. That’s the exact opposite point of the project. We are dating to explain that the show doesn’t work. You can’t force two people to like each other on these dates.”

“I’m the
Love Match
expert, and I’m telling you it’s real. Toby and Roxanne were soul mates and so were Dave and Maddie. That show makes happy couples—it’s the real deal.”

“You can go on thinking that, but for this project, I need to disprove it.”

“So are you saying you would date him if you could?”

I paused. The question had been ricocheting in my mind since my first motorcycle ride with Beau. I didn’t want Nina to make me think about this anymore.

“No. Stop twisting my words, matchmaker. Besides, Beau is too busy checking things off his bucket list to date anyone.”

“What’s he working on now?”

“Well, today he’s playing in an intramural tournament to win a T-shirt. Dumb, right?”

“He’s in a championship?” Nina looked shocked.

“Yeah, so?”

“London, that’s a big deal. Why aren’t you going?”

“Wait, you understand that we are fake dating, right? I’m not actually his girlfriend. The blog, the dates, it’s all for the project.”

“Whatever. You need to get your fake girlfriend ass over to that tournament and cheer for him. It’s a big deal to get one of those shirts.”

I held up the script. “I have work to do here. I’m the only one who can learn my new lines for act three. I have responsibilities.”

“I’ll take care of the tyrant.” Nina motioned to Derek, who was flailing his arms in the air. “You go have fun. Cheer for your fake boyfriend.”

Maybe her suggestion wasn’t so absurd. I could go to the game for a few minutes. Just for moral group partner support. I jumped off the couch, forgetting for a second the headache that had plagued me all morning.

“Thanks, girl.”

“London, wait. Where are you going?” I heard Derek call for me.

I turned toward him as he ran across the basement. “Talk to Nina. Seriously, Derek. Go talk to her.”

“But I thought we were going to work on the material I wrote for you.”

“I’ll be back later. I have somewhere I have to go. Don’t worry. I’m coming back.”

I raced up the stairs and straight to Woolen Gym before he could guilt me into changing my mind.

***

“Hey. What are you doing here?” A glistening Beau smiled at me. This was the first time I noticed that a hot and sweaty guy wasn’t completely gross. Especially one who smiled like that.

“Is that one of those famous T-shirts? Can I see it?”

Beau tossed the shirt at me and I held it up to admire. “Wow. Pretty awesome. Congratulations. You checked another thing off your list.” I was used to praising my costars, but I wasn’t sure what to say to an intramural athlete.

“Thanks. This one means a lot. Let me see that.” He jerked the victory shirt out of my hands.

In slow motion, Beau peeled his sticky, gray T-shirt from his torso, pulling it over his head while giving me a full visual of all the muscles I thought might exist under there. He fidgeted with the zipper on his gym bag before stashing the wet shirt in a side pocket. He didn’t seem to mind standing on the drafty basketball court half naked. I did my best to keep my jaw from dropping.

“Dude. We finally got one.” One of the other players walked up and slapped Beau on the back.

“Yeah, man. It was a longtime coming.” Beau slipped the dry shirt on over his head.

Another sweaty teammate joined the excitement. “That game was tight.”

I stood, watching the guys congratulate each other on their victory. A few other teammates walked up to join the discussion.

Hesitant to interrupt their celebration, I waved over their heads. “I just wanted to see the big game. I’m going to head back to the theater. Rehearsals are intense right now.” I walked backward a few steps before hitting the corner of the bleachers with the back of my knees.
Ouch
.

“London, thanks for coming to the game.” He waved and huddled back with the other guys.

“Uh. Yeah. Sure thing. See you in class.”

Hoping his teammates didn’t see me stumble into the seats, I turned and headed back to Graham Memorial and my cast mates.

***

“So, how did it go? Did the fake boyfriend win?” Nina greeted me as soon as I entered the basement.

I sighed. I had been in a funk the entire walk across campus. “Yes. He won. T-shirt and all.”

“Why are you back here so soon? I thought you’d go out for a victory drink or something on his bike.” She winked.

“No. I showed my support. I didn’t want to let everyone here down. I’ve got lines to work on.”

I noticed the script pages I had dumped on the couch were still lying where I placed them. I snatched them up and started reading the new words Derek created.

“Wait, wait, wait. You’re not getting out of this that easily. What happened? You seem upset—all moody and gloomy.”

I brushed my bangs to the side and let my shoulders slide. “He was busy. All the guys were excited about the game—I left so they could hang out and celebrate. Isn’t that what good fake girlfriends do?” I tried to smile.

I shouldn’t feel disappointed. Beau and I didn’t have plans. We were free to do whatever we wanted to do on the weekends, and I needed to focus on the play. He had even agreed to put our next date on hold so I could devote more time to rehearsals. I guess part of me thought he might ask me to work on the project, but that was silly. We have other things in our lives other than Comm 224 and
Love Match
.