I thought before I texted again. What would Victoria text to one of the bachelors? She kept all of those guys hanging on her every word.
See ya
Ok, it wasn’t my best text, but it was casual, short, and sweet. My brain was fried after today. An old movie and Ugly Quilt were calling my name.
Date Three: Hoops and Hearts
Sure, I went to a school that was predominantly known for its basketball status in the world of college athletics. It wasn’t lost on me that it was a part of the highest echelon and had created arguably one of the most elite programs in the country. However, I just wasn’t into sports.
I had turned down tickets to Carolina basketball games for four years. I never participated in the lottery drawings, or camped out for hours before a game just to sit behind the basket. So why didn’t I hesitate for even a second when Beau asked me to go with him?
Fans donned from head to toe in light blue filtered past me. I sidestepped a dad who had his little girl perched on his shoulder. Why did they make cheerleading outfits for people who weren’t two feet tall yet? Ok, she was cute with the matching pom-poms. I wasn’t even sure I was in the right place at the Dean Dome. He had told me to meet him outside the basketball museum.
This date was going to tie in perfectly with the last episode of Love Match. Victoria and the bachelors went to a San Antonio Spurs practice and failed miserably at team drills. The guy who scored the most points in the game of three-on-three won a ticket with Victoria to go to that night’s game. I wasn’t sure why the producers thought a spor
ting event would be romantic. After the buzzer sounded, the bachelorette and her date wandered the borders of the San Antonio Riverwalk and tasted every type of tequila they could sample. I was glad Beau and I already had our margarita night—tequila sounded terrible right now.
“London. Hey!” Beau walked up in a short-sleeve T-shirt and jeans. “Ready? We’ve got to get in if we’re going to get halfway decent seats.” He handed me a ticket.
“What do you mean? Don’t we have seats?” He was already jogging ahead of me, slipping past the older fans taking their time with the steps.
He stopped in his tracks to look at me. “Haven’t you been to a game before?”
I thought about lying, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to pull off that act tonight. “No. First one.” I smiled brightly.
“Good God, girl. Ok, come on.” He pulled on my elbow and guided me up the staircase. He launched into a quick rundown of the student seating system. “We have tickets, but they aren’t assigned. The student sections are first come, first serve. If we get here too late, we’ll end up in the rafters. Now that I know this is your first game, we are not sitting in the nosebleed section.”
I was nervous. Sitting in the rafters sounded terrible. I had a quick flash of the rock climbing wall.
After the event staff at the front door scanned our tickets, Beau took off running, pulling me with him. It seemed completely natural that my hand was locked in his. I could hear the horn section of the band and we funneled down the stairs taking us to the lowest level of the dome.
A man in a yellow T-shirt with an overbearing mustache held up his hand. “Sorry, folks. This section is full. You need to go up there.” He pointed toward the upper level.
I bit my lower lip—I wasn’t sure how high the seats were that he wanted us to sit in, but I didn’t think my stomach or my sweaty palms could handle it.
Beau turned to me. “Give me a sec.”
He slung his arm around the staffer’s shoulder and cupped his hand over his mouth while he talked into the man’s ear. The guy looked at me and then smiled. He nodded at Beau.
“I think I miscounted down here. Yep. Two more spots on the other end. Walk around. Enjoy the game.” He patted Beau on the back and climbed a few more rows behind us to help an alumna with her armrest.
Beau took my hand in his warm palm, a gesture that I was starting to like, and lead me to the other side of the student section. We squeezed next to a student whose chest was covered by a painted U. I noticed the boys next to him had painted torsos as well. A big N and C had been drawn on their chests.
“What did you say to Mustache Man to get him to let us sit here?” I leaned toward Beau’s ear so, hopefully, the lettered fans next to me wouldn’t hear.
“Secret. I can’t you tell you that.” He flashed a smile. “Like the seats?”
I wasn’t going to prod him anymore. I looked around. We were in the heart of the Dean Dome. From my seat, I could see every muscle flinching on the players as they warmed up on the court, the coaches’ scribbling on their clipboards, and the comic movements of Rameses—who was headed our way.
I pulled out my phone. “Would you take my picture? It’s on the list.”
Beau tilted his head sideways. “You’re marking things off my list for your list?”
“Yes. Quick, take it before I don’t have another chance.” I tugged on the snuggly ram’s arm as he approached my seat. He wrapped his big matted hoof around my shoulder and shot Beau a number one.
“Hold on, Rameses.” Beau tapped the screen on my phone and jumped on the other side of the mascot. He extended his long arm and clicked a picture of all three of us. “This will look great on the blog.”
“Thanks, Rameses.” I hugged the big mascot before he was tugged in a different direction by another fan. I looked at the picture on my phone. It was the first picture I had of Beau, and I had to keep myself from blushing. He looked cute. We looked cute together, even if there was a big stuffed ram between us.