Free London Falling by T. A. Foster Page A

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.
     
    The buzzer rang out through the building. It was game time. Beau started jumping up and down next to me, and I noticed all of the students looked like bouncing popcorn.
     
    “Come on, jump, London. Jump around.” He laughed and started bouncing out of control.
     
    It was contagious. I became a jumping bean, mimicking the frenetic energy of the students in our section. I smiled at Beau. This was fun.
     
    ***
     
    “What did you think of your first Carolina basketball game?” Beau and I walked into the crisp February night. I was actually hot after all the jumping and dancing. The air felt good.
     
    “We won. It was awesome.”
     
    “And why was that your first game?”
     
    “I was asking myself the same thing. I feel like I probably missed out on something for four years. That was so much fun. Thanks for taking me.”
     
    “At least you’re not a basketball virgin anymore.”
     
    Good thing my cheeks were already flushed from the cheering frenzy, or hearing Beau mention virginity, even in a sports context, would certainly make me blush. Why was my mind even going there?
     
    “What do you want to do now?” he asked over the roaring hum of the buses parked in front of the sidewalk. We had made our way to the bottom of the stairs and there was a long line of fans waiting to board the buses.
     
    “Oh, I didn’t know you wanted to do anything else.” He caught me off guard. Was this a continuation of the fake date? I was having a hard time distinguishing between the project and us just being ourselves.
     
    “Right. No. Never mind. You probably have plans. I’ll catch you in class next week.” He was backpedaling in front of my eyes.
     
    “Wait. I don’t have plans. Let’s do something.”
     
    “Yeah?” He was smiling.
     
    “Yes. But can we go somewhere a little warmer? I’m starting to freeze again.”
     
    He laughed. “All right, movie star. Let’s get you warmed up.”
     
    I liked how he said that. I felt warmer already.
     
    ***
     
    I stood behind Beau at the Caffe Driade counter. I insisted on buying my tea. These were supposed to be fake dates, but so far Beau had bought wine, margaritas, and snagged an extra game ticket for me. I had to pull my weight in this nonexistent relationship.
     
    “I’ll grab us a table.” He was holding an oversized mug. I giggled when I saw the heart-shaped foam swirled on top of his coffee. The redhead behind the counter