Brock prepared for this. Oh he prepared. He spent his afternoon scoping out the Playmakers, waiting for them to get out of the theatre. He waited, waited. He talked idly with some of them but he had no reason to really want to, and honestly he just wanted them all gone. He intended to take advantage of what they had, since he'd already taken advantage of what his bro's had. He had to beg an older brother in his fraternity to use the kitchen in the frat house, he had to call his mother up to ask her how to make certain dishes, and eventually he gave up. He had to borrow the same brother's car and speed off to the Boston Market to buy prepared food, he even went to the Wal-mart and stood line to get an authentic basket, an authentic picnic blanket, everything. Though, he did go ahead and buy himself plastic utensils. Nice, but plastic, because Brock realizes he does not have "A-Rod money."
So, with plastic utensils, basket, picnic blanket and edibles in the car he sped back to campus, ran to the theatre to make sure all of the performers had gone, he scoped out the area to make sure no one would show, and then he made his way backstage. He'd known this place. He used to be in playmakers, a semester or two ago. He played a tree in high school, so he had some knowledge considering he really just hid in the back and familiarized himself with the stage. There, behind the large thick curtain, Brock began his production. Luckily enough for him there was a set already up that involved the woods and nature. There were fake trees in the back and pots of flowers in various places in the large theatre. He'd run himself ragged collecting all of them, putting them on fake Roman columns, setting them around the picnic blanket he'd thrown diagonally on the floor. In the middle he set the picnic basket, and the food he'd bought. Within was a baguette, Italian dipping sauce, a packet of mints, Swiss cheese, and then he was left with the quickly chilling food he'd bought from Boston Market. He ran towards the back of the auditorium to the place where the playmakers would rest, and he threw his food into a microwave, and while he did burn a container of baked beans, he was happy about it. Beans are what one eats with one's spouse, because they cause flatulent side effects. He warmed the corn, the chicken and pasta dish, and the cornbread. He set the food out on plates, and went towards the back once more. With the light on, focused on the stage, he pulled — with much difficulty — the curtain closed. He pulled the phone from his pocket and sent out the text. 'Sorry it's so late, but everything's set up now, Elise. Meet me in the theatre.' Very smooth, on his part. He stood there staring out at the seats in almost triumph. No one would be coming for an embarrassing show tonight. He checked himself, he smelled rather nice, though he gave himself an extra puff of cologne, he looked decent from what he could tell of his reflection in the screen of his phone, but wait! He checked his zipper — all was well. Now, he waited.
(Their reply)
Brock's heartbeat grew rapid when she texted back. It was weird. He pictured Elise, dramatically running towards the theatre. The snow fell, and the wind blew her long gorgeous hair in the wind, and then she lost her scarf...and then she fell on the ground and her jacket was all wet so she had to take it off, and it was very cold so...
'Focus!' said the little voice in his head. His mind was already drifting off to inappropriate places and their first date hadn't even started. He felt as if he would start sweating. His hands grew moist, and then he felt as if he was going to puke. 'Keep it together man!' screamed the voice, as Brock's knees began to feel like jelly. He heard the creaking of the auditorium door, and there she was. He was looking up at her, and although she wasn't in provocative clothing or, even none at all, she was just as beautiful. The nausea faded, and his hands returned to normal. But now, he was stuck smiling. He just...smiled at her. She came down the stairs, and she was talking but he wasn't listening because he was too busy looking at her, and how pretty she was when she was happy. After a moment he realized he'd completely wandered away from where he truly was, but he managed to catch the last sentence she said.
"This isn't all of it..." He said, disappearing behind the large curtain. He pulled on the ropes that controlled the great curtain and all of a sudden it felt so much easier to do. The curtain pulled away finally and he took off his jacket, and tossed it on the floor, leaving a graphic t-shirt over a long-sleeved white shirt sitting atop a brand new pair of jeans and Nike's. He reappeared in front of her and gestured to the well lit picnic he'd set out. "This... is all of it."
(Their reply)
And there it was. There she was. In his arms. He managed to wrap his arms around her in response, and there Brock was again. Far away from where he was supposed to be is where he was. There was imaginary snow falling in his head, some kind of battle with nature, maybe a slow-motion jump, perhaps the kind of thing in movies where the camera is spun around the two in the middle in a complete circle. Either way, the director of Brock's brain had kicked in once more and he was gone. He wasn't sure he even breathed. And then the moment was over.
Brock was still smiling, taking a few steps toward the picnic scene. "Heh," was all he could say to being told this was the sweetest thing anybody had ever done for her. "Yeah..." was all he could muster when she repeated the same expression. He was too humble and too awkward to say much. He was about to throw out a joke as to what she could maybe to do outdo his date but she had his hand on his shirt and he was already liking where this was going. The voice in his head growled, warning him not to let his mind drift over to wherever it might be thinking of going. He sat down on the blanket and gestured to a spot across from him, "Have a seat. I've got bread, and Italian dipping sauce and..." he nodded, after gesturing to all the food, and looked at her for a second, realizing how much she truly appreciated his effort.
"You know, it was nothing, I was in drama a semester or so ago, and in high school too, I played a tree..." He rubbed his head in an embarrassed fashion, "I got the award for Best Performance in Photosynthesis, you know."
(Their reply)
"I'm not much into theatre anymore though," Brock said, resting a hand on his knee slowly, trying to regain his composure. "I think my forestry days are over," he added, nodding thoughtfully. He looked over at her still with a small smile on his face, very happy he'd gone through with the Valentine's Day bidding. And how lucky was it that they had bid on one another? He watched her pull the food from the basket, but when she pulled out the mints he blushed profusely, which was even more embarrassing considering how pale he is, and how much alike his face and hair would look at this moment.
"The dipping sauce has vinegar in it, so..." he trailed off, with a tiny smirk on his face. So, the mints really were for after the food, and he really wasn't expecting her to kiss him after just one date. He was hoping she would and he wouldn't hold it against her if she kissed on the first date...Well. The more and more he convinced himself he didn't bring the mints to kiss her the more false it all seemed. "Well ehm...you can start with the bread if you wanted!"