“I slept with him.”
“I slept with our Chem professor in college. Didn’t mean I wanted to be with him.”
“You slept with Professor Mulch?” I stop in my tracks.
“Did I forget to tell you that?”
“Umm … yes, I would have remembered if you slept with Massive Mulch.”
“The curiosity finally got to me. We stared at that anaconda bulging from his pants for ten weeks. I had to see it.”
“He was gross.”
“I didn’t look at his face.”
“So …”
“So what?” she asks coyly.
“Was it as big as the outline we stared at for months?”
“Bigger.”
“He was still gross.”
“He ruined me for petite-penised men everywhere.”
I laugh. “I totally forgot what we were talking about. How did our conversation turn to Professor Mulch?”
“I was making a point. Just because you slept with someone doesn’t mean you’re committed to them.”
“I know, but it just doesn’t feel right.”
“It doesn’t feel right because you can’t play ding dong ditch.”
“The kids game?”
“The adult version. Where you play with his ding dong and then ditch him.”
“You need help.”
“I need to play ding dong ditch,” she teases. “But seriously, Kate. I know you have feelings for Cooper. You know where I stand on that one. It’s time you put yourself first and find a little happiness. Yet we both know you won’t do that… . not when you see it as being at the expense of your mom and Kyle. So if you’re not going to give Cooper a real chance, then really jump back into the show. The last thing you need is to be heartbroken and not be able to help your family.”
I heave a heavy sigh. “I know you’re right”
“Aren’t I always?” She bumps my shoulder.
We step off the elevator and I’m surprised to find a man at our door. “Flynn … what are you doing here? I thought our date wasn’t until tonight.”
“Maybe he’s playing ding dong ditch,” Sadie mumbles so only I can hear her.
Flynn smiles at me, eyes doing a quick sweep up and down. I’m wearing a tummy-baring yoga top and second-skin yoga pants. But I’m also a sweaty mess. “Thought I’d see if you wanted to go on a pre-date date?” He leans in and kisses me on the cheek.
“A pre-date date?”
“A date before our date.”
“I thought we were off until five today.”
“We are. I was hoping to take you out, without the cameras, before our date tonight.”
“Umm … I’m supposed to help Sadie at her office today. This is Sadie, by the way.” I motion to my best friend. She has that gleam of excitement in her eyes that always got us in trouble growing up.
“Don’t be silly. We can do it another day.” She turns her attention to Flynn. “Nice to meet you. You’re even hotter in person.”
Flynn’s smiles, amused at her forwardness. “We’re all set then.”
“But …”
Sadie interrupts me. “No buts. Go, have a good time.”
Flynn looks to Sadie, the two of them exchanging more than just a glance. “You should listen to your friend.”
“I’m a mess.”
“I like the way you look.”
“And I smell.”
“I like the way you smell too,” he says with a lopsided grin.
“Can I take a quick shower?” I finally concede, ignoring his comment.
“Sure.”
“Flynn and I will get to know each other,” Sadie says, unlocking the door.
That, I’m a little afraid of.
Forty-five minutes later I’m freshly showered and ready. I hear the tail end of Sadie and Flynn’s conversation as I walk into the living room. “The fire department had to come and take apart the machines.”
“Please tell me you aren’t telling that story again.”
“It’s a good story.”
“It isn’t a good story. And I was nine. How much more play do you think you can get out of it?”
“You were fourteen.”
“I was not fourteen. I was twelve.”
“You said nine. I had to go with fourteen to get you to admit the truth.”
I roll my eyes. “I was reaching for something I dropped.”
“A Justin Timberlake sticker in one of those little see-through plastic gumball containers that are impossible to open.”
“It was a collectible sticker,” I defend my action, what else can I do at this point? As if getting your head stuck between gumball machines in the front of a busy supermarket on a Saturday morning isn’t bad enough. Admitting you had to be rescued by the fire department because you were trying to reach for a Justin Timberlake sticker just makes it that much more embarrassing.
Flynn stands. “Wanna know what I got from that story?”
“Not really,” I say.
He walks toward me. “That you have a thing for musicians.” He takes my hand, weaving his fingers through mine, and raises our joined hands to his lips. “Means there’s hope for me after all.”
“You’re not going to tell me where we’re going?”
“Nope.”
“Why not? It can’t be against the rules if we aren’t on a show-sanctioned date.”
“It’s against my rules.” He glances at me and smiles, eyes quickly returning to the road.
The radio plays a familiar voice. “Is that … ?”
“Yep,” Flynn says proudly.
“Wow. You’re on the radio. Turn it up!”
“I’d come off pretty full of myself if I blasted my own song on the radio, don’t you think?”
“It’s the first time I’ve heard you on the radio.”
“Me too.”
“Are you serious?”
“I knew our manger pushed out the single early to a few stations. But I’ve never actually heard it played.”
I blast the radio as loud as it can go. Flynn taps his fingers on the wheel as he drives, the smile never leaving his face.
“That’s very cool. I can’t believe we just listened to your song on the radio for the first time together,” I say as I lower the volume back down.
His normally cocky attitude turns humble. “I’m glad I was with you.”
A short drive more and then we pull into the parking lot at Qualcomm Stadium. “Are we going to the Chargers game?” I ask excitedly. My Dad and I spent many Sundays watching football when I was a kid. I hadn’t yet caught on that he was betting the games back then.
“We are.”
“I’m a huge Chargers fan.”
“I know.”
“You do?”
“Sweetheart, the way you wear that t-shirt, the lightning bolt stretched tightly across your chest, I may very well have to turn in my lifelong Raiders fan-club card.”
“You’re a Raiders fan?”
“I’m a Kate fan.”
Good answer.
The fifty-yard line is so close, some of the players on the sidelines may very well hear my screaming. It’s a tied game at half-time and we decide to get a bite to eat.
“Hot dog?” he asks as we move to the front of the line.
“And a beer.”
“Girl after my own heart.”
There’s a crowd milling around the beer station; a small group of girls of about eighteen or nineteen are staring in our direction. Eventually, they make their way over to us. “Aren’t you Flynn Beckham?” one eyelash-batting girl asks.
Flynn’s arm wraps around my waist. “I am.”
The small gaggle of girls squeal. “I’ve seen you at Stardust a dozen times!”
“Well, thank you for coming. We’ll be back on the road soon.”
“Would you sign an autograph for me?”
“Sure.”
The smiling girls dig into their handbags, one of them pulling out a red felt-tip marker. She pulls up her shirt, revealing a lacy red bra overflowing with more cleavage than a push-up bra could ever offer me, and thrusts them in Flynn’s direction. “Sign over my heart,” she says.
“That’s very sweet of you. But that wouldn’t be very respectful to my girlfriend here.” He motions in my direction. It might be the first time they even notice I’m standing next to him.