[Chapter 84: Savor]
"It's a foul! It's a foul!"
As the crowd roared, Hillary clenched her fists, shouting.
Though her cap was pulled down low covering her face, Orlando could vividly imagine her excited expression.
Just moments earlier, a Detroit Red Wings player had committed a subtle foul -- using his knee to push away a closely defending Los Angeles Kings player before scoring. The referee missed the call due to a blocked view, sparking protests from the crowd.
To immerse fully in the atmosphere, Orlando and Hillary had skipped box seats and instead joined in the packed stands.
At first, Hillary appeared calm, but as the game grew more intense, her excitement bubbled over, often grabbing Orlando's arm and shouting.
Faced with the injustice and charged crowd energy, she couldn't help but yell loudly, not worrying about anyone recognizing her.
"That's right, it's a foul! Foul!" Orlando waved his arms and joined in the shouting.
Truthfully, Orlando didn't usually like venting emotions this way. He viewed such outbursts as losing control. After merging memories from two lives, he preferred remaining calm and rational. Observing with a level head allowed him to analyze situations with foresight and reach his goals more effectively.
But hey, they were on a date.
If your date's fired up about the game and you just sit there quietly, how's that going to work?
...
"If it weren't for that referee's call, the Kings wouldn't have lost!" Hillary fumed as they left the arena.
Though Orlando wanted to mention the Kings' odds of losing were over 70%, given Red Wings' superior shots on goal, he kept quiet. After all, Hillary was clearly rooting for the Kings.
"Yes, that misjudgment crushed the Kings' morale, and they allowed several goals in quick succession," he finally said.
"I think the Kings should file a formal complaint with the Referee Committee. Otherwise, stuff like this could happen again," Hillary said firmly.
"Calm down. You don't want tomorrow's paper running 'Hillary Clinton Throws Tantrum on Street,' do you?" Orlando teased, grabbing her arm.
He suggested they head somewhere else to unwind and forget the game's frustrations.
They went to a nightclub to chill.
---
During the night, Hillary occasionally criticized the referee, with Orlando comforting and joking with her, making her smile more often.
"You know, Orlando, hanging out with you this time... I feel so relaxed. It's... weird," she said, stretching her arms and stumbling slightly across a planter.
"It's kind of like when I first started dating Bill," she added.
Though her oversized jacket concealed much, her silhouette was still attractive as she stretched.
"Careful, Diane." Orlando caught her as she nearly lost her footing.
"I'm fine, just... excited," Hillary grinned, holding his arm.
After looking at him for a moment, she abruptly turned away, the smile fading. "I think we should head back."
"Alright," Orlando said without protest.
---
The ride back was quiet. Orlando focused on driving while Hillary gazed out at the city lights without saying a word.
Traffic was light this late in Los Angeles, and it took about 20 minutes to arrive at Madonna's Beverly Hills mansion.
They lingered at the door of her guest room, chatting quietly.
Suddenly, Hillary looked up mid-sentence, but Orlando cut her off.
"By the way, can I come in and sit for a bit?"
She looked at him with a sharp gaze, a trace of challenge there, making Hillary uneasy.
Why hadn't he come in last night? Now he wanted to?
Orlando had sensed a shift in Hillary's mind through his telepathy. "Just come in and sit. I want to talk more."
Time to make a move.
"Okay," she said instinctively.
Inside, the room was softly lit by a wall lamp.
Simple yet tasteful furnishings surrounded them.
Glass doors opened onto a terrace, offering a peaceful view.
"When Madonna showed me this room, I fell in love at first sight," Hillary said, slipping off her jacket.
"It's gorgeous. You can see the terrace and Los Angeles lights," Orlando said, hanging her coat.
Hillary glanced at him then sat on a small sofa by the bed.
After some silence, Orlando had someone bring a bottle of champagne, warming the mood and sparking laughter.
"You're just nitpicking, Orlando. Quit it," Hillary laughed again and again.
She no longer felt like someone trying to push her useless husband's career or a political schemer craving shared glory.
She felt eighteen again.
Full of dreams and innocence.
But now, she noticed how close they'd become.
At first, she sat on the sofa, Orlando on the bed.
Now, he was within reach.
That tingling, electric feeling... it was back.
"So, where was I nitpicking, Diane?" Orlando smiled, an inscrutable glint in his eyes.
"Uh... excuse me," Hillary set down her glass and hurried to the bathroom.
---
"What are you thinking?" she asked herself in the mirror.
"One-night stands happen. What's there to fear? When you're not around, Bill sleeps around every day."
Earlier at the nightclub, Orlando had declined alcohol, citing he'd drive. He'd said alcohol was bad for the body.
Yet now, he brought out champagne. Though light, its meaning was clear.
"I can't. I won't have sex with him. That... wouldn't be just a one-night stand!" Hillary mumbled, head in hands, staring blankly.
"But why should I be scared?"
She straightened, brushed her hair, unbuttoned a few shirt buttons as if shrugging off fear.
"There's nothing to fear. I'm fine," she said, opening the door to return.
---
"Thanks for waiting," Hillary smiled as she sat down again, more relaxed and radiant.
"It's worth it," Orlando said before leaning in to kiss her.
Hillary gasped softly, smiling at his surprise with joy, then eagerly responded.
They tumbled onto the sofa together.
"Mrs. Clinton," he teased.
"No, call me Diane. I like Diane better," she said.
"Alright, Diane."
He glanced down at her bra, which he'd just pulled down.
"May I start tasting?"
*****
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