London Falling by T. A. Foster Read Free Book Online

know. It sounds like something they would say on the show.”
     
    I inhaled the icy January air and raised my glass until it tapped Beau’s.
     
    “To making it count.” I smiled at him over the rim of my glass. His eyes were locked on mine. A little chill rippled through my chest and it wasn’t from the air. I was completely caught off guard.
     
    “You sure you’re ok, London?”
     
    I nodded vigorously, trying to convince myself more than Beau.
     
    “All right. We’ve got two parts to this not-date. Ready to go paint some pottery?”
     
    “Um. Yes. Let’s do that.”
     
    Beau was standing next to the table with a hand extended. I hesitated, for a second, but placed my hand in his.
     
    “Ok. Pottery Paints. Here we come.”
     
    During last week’s episode, Victoria took five of her suitors to a pottery shop where the men painted various figures in an effort to capture the eye of the bachelorette. By the end of the date, the guy with the best piece of art received a rose and some special one-on-one time. Beau and I laughed at the guys’ attempts to make a bisque model car or frog look like anything other than an elementary school project.
     
    Pottery Paints, the studio on Franklin Street, was brightly lit. Across one wall was an assortment of plain, untouched clay molds. On the opposite wall were the finished products of the customers who had spent time in Pottery Paints.
     
    I selected a canister with a lid that had a small bird perched on top. I watched Beau as he scanned the choices. He reached for a plate.
     
    “What are you going to paint on there?” I asked.
     
    “I thought I’d go ahead and make the commemorative championship plate.” He started sorting through the various shades of blue on display.
     
    “What kind of championship?”
     
    For a second, I thought there was something on my face. His shocked expression had me brushing my cheeks.
     
    “What kind of championship? Girl, you’re at the mecca for college basketball. I’m talking about our championship.”
     
    “Oh. Ok. Cool.” I sat on the bench next to him.
     
    “Well, I learned something about you tonight.” His voice was playful.
     
    “What’s that?”
     
    “You are definitely not a sports fan.”
     
    “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