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 stage.”

“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.”

I finished off my drink. “You sound like my roommate, Nina. But I don’t have any doubts. Especially because I know this is what I’m meant to do. I can’t be a teacher or doctor or accountant. This is it. You may have seen me wipe out in the quad, fall in front of Manning, fail at beer opening, and have a panic attack in Fetzer Gym, but when I’m on stage I’m unstoppable. I was born to be an actress.”

The waiter dropped off our second round. I downed a few sips.

“What about you, Beau? Are you going to be a professional bucket list blogger?”

“Ha. Ha. Funny. For such a sweet girl, you’re a smartass sometimes.”

I smiled at him and felt the corners of my mind feeling warm and fuzzy from the drink.

“Actually, I’m pre-law.”

“Really? You don’t seem like the lawyer type.”

He leaned back in his seat. “I don’t know what you think that type is, but I’ve already been accepted to law school for the fall semester. I’m going straight through. It must make me the lawyer type.”

“Let me guess. Your dad is a legacy. He has a big law firm in Raleigh and he’s already offered you a position as soon as you graduate. You’ll make partner in less than five years and he’ll hand over the keys to the firm by the time you’re thirty so he can start an early retirement.” I licked the salt from the rim of my glass.

“Someone thinks they have me all figured out.”

“Don’t I?” I had courage flowing through my veins. It was fun flirting and sparring with him.

“Pretty close. But it’s my mom, not my dad who is the attorney. The family business is in Wilmington, and if the past four years are any indication of me getting a job there, I’m going to have to do more than just show up with a law degree.”

“What does that mean?”

“Let’s just say I haven’t been the perfect A student, like some of us.” He eyed me over his glass. “It’s one of the reasons I’m in Comm 224. I heard it was an easy A.”

“Where did you hear that? All I’ve heard about are the crazy projects.”

“Yeah. But I don’t have to study. There aren’t any tests. I just go to class and the project is coming together. My last semester here is all about living it up. We’re seniors—we never get this time back. Don’t you just want to do something big?”

“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.