"Finding Infinity" Teaser - Part Nine

Here's your last teaser... "Finding Infinity" will be live on Tuesday, November 26!

With that, he takes my hand, and leads me back to the lobby where our friends are waiting. They all wish Colin good luck, and head off to find their seats in the upper levels of the theater.

Colin and I make our way into the auditorium with our game faces on. My arm is laced around his elbow. I have a pageant-ready smile on my face. I glance up at Colin. He appears to not have a care in the world. His camera-ready smile is plastered on and his jaw is relaxed. We’re good. Real good.

After being stopped numerous times, and going through lots of introductions to people that I’ll never remember, we find our seats.

Once we’re seated, Colin leans over and breathlessly whispers in my ear, “Every man in here wants you, but I’m the one getting to take that dress off tonight.”

Why does he do this to me? I’ve been so good. Game face is on. Then, when he whispers dirty words, I dissolve into a puddle of goo. “You’re a bad boy McKinney,” I whisper.

He gives me a discreet lick behind my ear. “Your bad boy.”

I pull back, so he can see me blushing.

He laughs, his loud, gorgeous laugh that starts at his toes. “God, I love you.” He takes my hand and gently rubs his thumb on my palm.

The lights dim, the director counts us down, letting us know that we’re about to be live on television, and the host comes out on stage. I’m sure that Brad knows exactly who this guy is, but I haven’t a clue.

He starts his opening monologue. I guess he’s funny enough. I politely laugh at his jokes, because everyone else is. That is, until he starts shooting zingers at the athletes in the audience. I know that a joke is going to be hurled Colin’s way. He’s been too high-profile lately to be passed over. I mentally prepare myself to laugh at it, no matter what the comedian says. I refuse to let the world see that whatever the joke is bothers me.

Then it comes.

“No wonder Colin McKinney takes painkillers. If I had to endure that many heartbreaking seasons, I’d be an addict, too. And what about his doctor girlfriend, or should we call her his dealer? Convenient to be engaged to a doctor. Rather convenient, huh?” he says, tapping his forehead, as if he’s really thought this out.

I glance over at Colin, expecting his jaw to be set in that terribly pained way, and the lines around his eyes to have deepened. That’s not the case. His face is relaxed, and determined.

He stands up, offering me his hand. Dear God, what is Colin doing? I take it, blindly, not having an idea what’s going on. Then, I soon realize that we’re standing, and walking up the center aisle of the auditorium, headed for the three sets of closed double doors in the back. I see everyone staring at us in shock, surprise, amazement and confusion. We’re the car accident, and everyone is rubbernecking. My eyes lock on Liza’s. Her hands go to her mouth as she stares at me.

The audience is silent. The comedian is silent.

Colin’s grip on my hand is painful. He’s walking, more determinedly than I’ve ever seen him. He has his eyes fixed on the exit sign. I feel like I’m almost running to stay by his side. I follow him, not saying a word until we’re out the auditorium doors. They slam behind us, which reminds me just how eerily quiet it really is.

Colin’s drops my hand, and blood returns to it in a gush of painful prickles. He runs his hands through his hair, and begins pacing back and forth. I recognize this for what it is. Colin just reached his breaking point. He’s me, seeing Alice iron my underwear. It’s something small. What the comedian said was not something new or original. It’s not something that hasn’t been theorized in the press for the previous weeks. But, hearing the words come out of the comedian’s mouth while I was sitting next to him, was the last straw for Colin.

Some producer, or director, or someone who seems to have an important job rushes over to us, apologizing like crazy for the comedian’s remarks. I’m too stunned to fully register what he’s saying, but he’s definitely trying to talk us out of leaving. Next, we’re joined by Brad, Aiden, and Jenny. They start chiming in on the conversation, trying to calm Colin down.

I feel my blood pressure rising, and it’s not from the inappropriate remarks made by the comedian. How dare they? How can our friends be blind to what I see so clearly? Colin might be a super athlete. He might be one of the most recognizable men in the world. But he’s still just a man. He has feelings too. His heart beats with the same red blood as everyone else’s. He feels pain and anger. He’s not a robot, and he shouldn’t have to take abuse from anyone, especially someone who makes mean remarks about people for a living.

 I finally snap out of my shock and say, just to Colin, ignoring the large group of people that have now surrounded us, “You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to. I love you. We can leave and go back to our hotel.” I take his hands in mine, and look into his green eyes. “You. Don’t. Have. To. Stay. Colin.”

That’s all the permission he needs. Without an explanation to the group that is still chirping at him, trying to convince him to go back inside and have a seat, or our friends who are desperately trying to calm him down, we walk out the side entrance of the theater, hand in hand. One boy who’s hurting, that’s loved infinitely by his one girl.

We leave the limo for Brad, Jenny, and Aiden. Colin hails a cab, and asks the driver to pull in at In and Out Burger.