London Falling

by T. A. Foster

  “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.

  After the first date re-creation, I can say with confidence that after date one, we are sticking to our hypothesis: the show is a complete fake. Until next week’s dating report—B.A.

  What? I didn’t know what I expected him to write, but reading those words made the whole date seem like a terrible evening. It wasn’t terrible. I liked the rooftop, and his funny plate drawing, and he left out the part where I rode behind him on the motorcycle with my hands planted on his firm chest. Ok, maybe he didn’t need to add that part.

  My phone buzzed.

  Have you read it yet?

  I wanted to be cool and casual like Beau. Technically, there wasn’t anything wrong with what he had written. It was all true. Why was I even debating the merits of his blog? I should be relieved I had found a partner who was as committed to the project as I was. We would certainly win over Professor Garcia with our dating accounts. That was all I needed—an A for graduation.

  He eagerly texted me again.

  I nailed the theory for this week. What do you think? Should I change it?

  He did make sure to bring in the theory we were focused on debunking. It didn’t make sense to argue with him or make a big deal out of nothing.

  It’s great. Loading my post now.

  This whole dating scenario was fake, but the feelings bouncing around in my chest felt real. The opposite of what I wanted.

  ***

  Date Two: Muscles and Margaritas

  Dressing for this non-date was more complicated than last time. We were trying to combine two dates since I had to take some
time for extra rehearsals for Spoiled Hearts. Beau seemed easygoing about the schedule and had come up with an athletic, night out mix-up. I was already doubting my physical abilities. It was hard to deny that the nearness of Beau seemed to throw off all of my training and innate talents.

  I waited for him outside of Fetzer Gym. In a matter of seconds, I heard the roar of his bike. He pulled up to the front and threw down the kickstand.

  “Ready to climb a wall?” He looked eager and energized.

  “I guess so. I’ve never climbed before.”

  “Piece of cake. You’ll do great.” He locked his helmet to the side of the bike.

  I followed him into the gym, scanning my student ID as we passed by the counter. The gym’s policy required all students to pass a Belay Test before climbing the wall. I had never taken a single Belay prep session, but Beau had a way around the obstacle. One of his friends worked at the gym and said I could climb.

  Last week, Victoria had taken Chris and Ed on a two-on-one repelling date. Each one of the bachelors, in his own way, had helped her face her darkest fears of heights, unidentified spiders, and helmet hair. During the entire episode, I couldn’t help but think Victoria was exaggerating the terror of the mountain wall. It looked like it was all just an act to get the men to wrap their arms around her. How scary could it be to climb down something that you were belted and strapped in to? That show was so fake.

  “Ready to do this?” I looked over and Beau was already halfway in his gear.

  “Sure.” I stepped over so that the gym assistant could start wrapping my legs, arms, and waist in harness straps. The tighter the straps became, the more I started to worry.

  I watched as Beau jumped and reached for the highest bolt and began scrambling up the wall. It looked effortless as his arms and legs moved from peg to peg. He was almost at the top of the wall before I took hold of my first anchor. I pulled up, trying to find the next ledge to support my foot. This was harder than it looked. Beau waited for my painstakingly slow ascent.

  “Glad you could make it, movie star. Ready to head back down?” He looked over his shoulder and flashed me a smile.

  My eyes followed his target and I realized how far from the ground we really were. The people at the bottom of the wall looked like there were toddlers. Holy shit. My palms started sweating and my mouth went dry.

  “London? You ok? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

  “We’re high, Beau. Up here. We’re really high.” I closed my eyes tightly and tried to breathe through my nose, but couldn’t tell if I was getting any air, my head was fuzzy.

  “Whoa. Hold on. You’re fine. Don’t worry. We’re going to get down from here together.”

  I’m not sure how he moved behind me since my eyes were closed, but I felt his arms slip under mine and his chest was resting tightly against my back.

  “Just take a deep breath, and we’ll walk down the wall together.” His voice was reassuring.

  I felt my body lean into his as I exhaled a pent-up breath.

  “Good. You’re doing great. Keep breathing just like that. Here we go. You can hold on to me if you need to. We’re headed down now.”

  I grabbed his arm. It was taut and strong.

  What seemed like at least thirty minutes passed before both my feet were firmly planted on the Fetzer Gym floor. I unwrapped myself from Beau’s protective cage before unclipping the harness. I grabbed my bag and headed straight for the locker room.

  The few handfuls of water I splashed on my face steadied my nerves. I looked at my reflection. I was pale. I pinched my cheeks and used a few scratchy paper towels to dry my face. Luckily, I had brought a change of clothes. These were sticky from my sudden panic attack. I changed as quickly as I could and ran back out to Beau, hoping I didn’t look as horror-stricken as I felt.

  “You ok?” His dark eyes looked pitiful. Had he been out here the whole time worrying about me?

  I smiled. “Yes. I feel like an idiot, or should I say exactly like Victoria? Isn’t this what happened to her in the last episode? It took two bachelors to coax her down the cliff. I’m starting to think I shouldn’t have been so hard on her. I’m sorry I freaked out up there.”

  “Nah, don’t worry about it. No big deal. Happens to everyone. You were great. You made it down in one piece.” He smiled. “I don’t know if you’re still up for it, but since we’ve got another doubleheader planned, what do you say to Margarita Madness at La Playa?”

  “Si, senor. I could use one of those.”

  ***

  La Playa was one of the lesser-known Mexican restaurants in town. Actually, I had never heard of it. But Beau said they had ninety-nine-cent margarita specials and karaoke tonight, so it seemed like the perfect addition to our fake dating escapades.

  I waited in the booth while Beau ordered two fish bowl-sized margaritas on the rocks. He laughed with the bartender, and they both glanced at the pretty blonde singing Total Eclipse of the Heart. She was belting out the notes, managing to stay on pitch despite the guys at the table in front of her catcalling her every move.

  Beau placed a frosty margarita in front of me then slid into the opposite side of the booth.

  “What do you think of La Playa?”

  I looked around at the red pepper lights hanging from the ceiling and our entertainment. “It’s good. I like it. Anything that’s about the beach and the sun sounds good to me.” I took a gulp of the lime drink. I still felt a little on edge after the rock wall fiasco.

  “I feel bad about the wall. I shouldn’t have pushed you to climb. I guess there is a reason they want people to pass the test before climbing.”

  “Beau, it’s not your fault. I didn’t know until I got to the top that I was afraid to climb back down. Don’t worry about it. I hope your friend isn’t going to get in any kind of trouble for breaking the rules for me.”

  “He will be fine. I don’t think anyone knew what was going on at the top of the wall. Still, I feel bad—it wasn’t cool. What’s something you like to do?” He made a bitter face as he sipped the salty rim of the drink.

  I looked over at the perky blonde wrapping up her song. A wicked idea entered my mind.

  “You would make it up to me?” I asked sweetly.

  “Sure. Yeah. I feel terrible. Do you have something in mind?”

  “Come with me.” I grabbed his arm and yanked on him as I headed for the makeshift platform that represented the La Playa karaoke stage.

  “Uh-oh. No way. I’m not singing.” His feet were planted firmly in front of the step.

  The blonde handed me the mic and I walked over to the DJ to request our song.

  “Beau Anderson, you scared me half to death at the top of that rock climbing wall, this is the least you could do.”

  In defeat, he hung his head and joined me on the stage. “If I’m getting ready to humiliate myself, did you at least pick a cool song?”

  I didn’t have time to answer. The intro started and I saw sheer panic rise in his eyes.

  “The Dirty Dancing song? Are you trying to kill me?”

  I didn’t answer and launched into the words to Time of My Life. I pointed at the screen so Beau could follow along. He stumbled through the lyrics, but after the chorus, I could tell he was getting into it. When we were finished, we had a standing ovation. La Playa liked our Johnny and Baby version of the song.

  “See? That wasn’t so bad.” I laughed as we returned to our booth and the drinks.

  “London, you are crazy.” He chugged the giant drink. “I have never been on a karaoke stage and I don’t plan on getting on one again.”

  “Aw, that’s too bad. You were pretty good up there.” I giggled. Where were my friends with their constant video recording when I needed them?

  “You, on the other hand, can sing. Why didn’t you tell me you could sing like that?”

  “I told you I’m an actress. What, you thought that was specific only to speaking parts? I can sing, dance, act—you name it—I can do it on s
tage.”

  “Really?”

  The margarita was delicious. For ninety-nine cents, I wanted another. I waved down the bartender and circled my hand over my head so he knew to bring us another round.

  “Yep. There’s nothing else I want to do. It’s in my being. As soon as graduation is over, I’m packing and moving to L.A.”

  “Wow. That’s commitment. You even sound like an actress. Don’t you think that’s a little dramatic? You sure you want to go all in? Sounds pretty risky to me.”