Embarrassed, I tried to keep my cheeks from turning a bright rosy pink—the color my mom always said was the telltale sign I was wrong about something. “Right. Yeah, I knew that. Ok. Let’s just text or something after we’ve watched some episodes.”
I headed for the door. I had to get away from Beau. At least he didn’t remember me from last week; I realized that was actually a blessing. I was completely off today and everything coming out of my mouth was either bitchy or entirely dumb—neither one a part of my personality. I had even stumbled through the cold reading I did for Derek’s new play this morning.
I pushed on the door’s handle bar and shoved forward, taking in a deep breath of cold air. I jogged down the Manning Hall stairs.
“London, hold up.”
I swiveled toward him, catching a patch of ice with my heel. There was nowhere to go but down. My arms flew out, trying to grab the railing, but I landed on my bottom.
Beau raced down the stairs and knelt next to me on the brick sidewalk. “Hey, you ok?”
This time my right hip was definitely going to bruise. How many beatings could one petite body take? I was barely over five feet tall. There wasn’t that far to fall, but man, it hurt when I did.
His hand was under my elbow, encouraging me to sit up. “Wait a minute. I know how I recognize you.” A smile spread across his face. “You’re the girl who walked into my bike the other night in the quad.”
Oh no. He did remember.
3
“London, you’re the most graceful person I know. You took professional ballet lessons. I’ve never seen you fall. Like, ever.” Nina was busy preparing a homemade icepack for me with a plastic bag and some ice tray cubes.
I managed to hobble into our one-story brick house and plant myself on the couch. I needed more than ice after the performance I gave today.
“I used to be the most graceful person you knew. I can’t remember the last time I fell. Probably when I learned to ride my bike.” I winced as she held the icepack on my leg.
“At least it’s not bikini season. That’s going to look terrible.”
“Thanks.” She was right. I could already feel a goose-egg size knot forming under my jeans.
“Tell me. What’s the project? I’ve got some time before I have to catch the bus for lab.” She had collected a few throw pillows from around the living room and handed them to me on the couch.
Just the mention of Communication 224 sent a wave of nausea through my system.
“It’s terrible. I don’t know what I’m going to do. The nutty professor used an experimental computer program to pair us off in class. Then each group was assigned a reality show for the semester. We have to prove whether the show is real or just part of Hollywood commercialism by living out the show. She told us to be it. Whatever that means.”
“Really? That’s it? What show did you get?” Nina’s eyes lit up. She would have been perfect for the assignment. She was America’s resident reality TV fan. The only reason I had even heard of half of the shows was because of her.
“Love Match.”
I should have covered my ears. The squeal from my roommate was the high pitch equivalent of a howling banshee. “Love Match? I love that show! The dates are so romantic and the guys are so cute. Everyone falls in love and they travel all over the world. There are
private jets and champagne. Oh, you’re so lucky you got that one.” Nina was getting more excited with each detail she shared.
“Calm down. It’s not that great. I didn’t tell you about my partner.”
“Oh, who did you get? Tell me he is super hot.”
“Beau Anderson.” I moved the pack of ice farther down my thigh.
“Wait. You mean the guy who wrote the bucket list blog?”
“Yeah, but that’s not all. He’s not only Bucket List Guy, he’s also Bike Guy.”
“What? The guy from last week who plowed you down is Beau Anderson and he’s your Communication 224 partner?” Nina was laughing.
“What’s so funny? Are you laughing at me? I’m in pain over here and panicking about this class.”
“Stop worrying, London. But really, what are the chances you would get paired up with him?”