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“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.
7
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.
There was a light knock on the door, shaking me out of my Beau thoughts. “Come in.”
Derek pushed the door open and closed it behind him. “Hey.”
“Oh. Hi, Derek.”
I pulled out a cotton ball and started dabbing at my cheeks. Seeing him reminded me of the weird ass pat he gave me on stage. Maybe I had misinterpreted the gesture. We were all a little punchy on opening night. He was the writer, director, and producer. If anyone had a right to have preshow jitters tonight, it was Derek.
“You were more than I could have dreamed of tonight, London. You were relentless. What you did out there was—”
Derek’s compliments were interrupted. There was another knock on the door, this time more assertive.
“Come in.” Sharing a dressing room with six girls was nothing if not a test of modesty and privacy. Girls were usually floating in and out like a revolving door.
Instead of a person, a bouquet of red roses worked their way through the crack in the door. I spun around in my chair as Beau followed.
He laughed as he crossed the room and handed them to me. “I know they are kinda cliché on Valentine’s Day, but they are the perfect symbol of Love Match. My choices were kind of limited today. Plus, every pretty girl deserves flowers on Valentine’s Day.”
I managed to keep myself from squealing as I accepted the dozen roses in my arms.
