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“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.”
