Played by Natasha Stories Page A

and I would have been fine with
it. Instead, he pressed a VIP ticket into my hand.
    "Tell Ri I'm sorry, but I couldn't get
enough for the whole gang. I wanted you to have a good seat, though, since
you're my date."
    I could feel my face softening into the
lines of affection usually reserved for my daughter.
    "That's really sweet, Drew, thank
you!"
    "Least I could do. Gotta run, I'll
pick you up at six-thirty," and he was gone, jogging through the room with
me staring after him.
    That afternoon, I asked Rihanna why he
would want to pick me up at six-thirty, if the game didn't start until eight.
    "He's got to be there early," she
answered.
    Feeling a bit stupid, I decided to carry a
large purse that would have room for my iPad, so I'd have something to do while
I waited for the game to start. Dating a player could be a bit inconvenient, it
seemed. I'd have to snack on something, too, if I were going to wait until the
game was over for dinner. Then I stopped thinking about it and started
studying.
    On Saturday, Rihanna had left to get some
lunch for us when a knock at the door revealed a huge vase of roses, apparently
floating in mid-air, though a pair of legs below it indicated someone was
behind them. "Delivery for Janey Nielsen," said the disembodied
voice.
    "Oh, good grief," I answered,
without thinking. I collected myself and relieved the delivery person of her
burden. "Thank you."
    "Enjoy them," she responded, taking
off at a trot down the hall.
    The vase contained two dozen roses, half of
them red and the other half white with red tips on each petal. They were
breathtakingly beautiful, and of course, they were from Drew. I was getting in
deeper and deeper, but how could I reject his thoughtful gift of flowers on our
first real date? Besides, they smelled wonderful, too. I was still admiring
them when Ri returned with a bag from a nearby sandwich shop in hand.
    "Omigod! Whose are they?" she
cried.
    "Um, mine I guess. Drew sent
them," I answered. Rihanna dumped the bag on our coffee table and rushed
over to inhale deeply.
    "Those are abso-fucking-lutely
gorgeous," she said. "Lucky bitch."
    "Ri, are you sure you don't want Drew
for yourself?"
    "I told you, ew. No. But, I want a
boyfriend that will send me two dozen roses. Alan's clueless."
    "Speaking of Alan," I said,
"Is he going to the game?"
    "Nah, he couldn't take the competition
after the game. We're done. I need someone who'll accept my friends, even the weird
ones like you and the future NBA star."
    Ignoring her characterization of me, I
said, "I'm sorry."
    "No biggie. My peeps will be with
me." She turned to the bag and got out our sandwiches and chips, apparently
done with that subject.
    With Rihanna’s help, I put together a chic
outfit, with red tunic-style sweater of course, for my date. As Drew's guest
sitting near the team and only a couple of rows back, I felt I should look
good, so that he'd be proud of me. We had chosen a red with more blue in it
than the actual school color, and the cherry-red seemed to set off my blonde,
wavy tresses a little better than most strong colors. A black midi-skirt,
flared at the bottom, my knee-high boots, and a capacious purse in a paisley
pattern with lots of red in it finished me off.
    It was unseasonably warm tonight, in the
high fifties, so my gray wool shawl would be plenty for an outdoor wrap, nor
would I need a hat that would only mess up my hair. Ri pronounced me
'fuck-worthy', something I intended to avoid at all costs, but of course, she
was just being herself.
    Promptly at six-thirty, Drew knocked on our
door, and a still pajama-clad Rihanna threw it open and jumped into his arms.
He gave her a hug and a pat on the behind and looked up into the room, to find
me smiling at Ri's silliness.
    "Wow, Sugar, you look gorgeous,"
he said.
    "Not as gorgeous as these beautiful
roses," I said. "Thank you."
    "No problem. Oh, here," he added.
A box I hadn't noticed before was in his hand. In it lay a corsage consisting
of the