Page 15 of The Blind Date

“What’s wrong? Cat got your tongue?” Cedric turned to ask me as soon as Logan left with our order. Up until this point, things had been awkwardly silent between us as we read our respective menus several times over for what to order. "You haven't said anything since we've sat down. I don’t claim to know you, but you seem like the kind of woman that never shuts up.”

"And I can already tell that you're the kind of man that never watches what they say," I retorted, my nose scrunching up in distaste.

"Where's the fun in that?" He chuckled, a humoured glint in his eyes.

"Believe it or not, not everything is about having fun and saying cool things. Sometimes, you have to consider the feelings of those around you."

"And what makes you think I don't?" Cedric countered, quirking a questioning brow at me. "Consider the feelings of those around me, that is."

"You just said I never shut up, and you don't even know me."

"And you called me insensitive."

I pursed my lips, resisting the urge to do something really childish right now.

"Well, it seems like we got off on the wrong end of the foot," Cedric murmured, but it seemed more like he was speaking to himself. I certainly wasn’t going to reply. Not after the sour mood that he had put me in.

An uncomfortable silence engulfed the table as neither Cedric nor I said anything. I glanced around the restaurant, hoping to catch sight of the waiter with our food. I didn't miss that we had both conveniently decided to skip getting a starter. As I was pretty hungry, I could probably do with a starter, but then that would mean I would have to spend even more time in Cedric's presence, and right now, that was the last thing I wanted. I was glad that the feeling was mutual.

"You've been quiet for far too long. Cat got your tongue again?"

"Why do you keep asking me that?" I frowned, already fed up with this man, and our food hadn't even arrived yet! I had no idea how I would make it through the rest of the evening with him if I was fed up with him already. “Are you obsessed with cats or something?”

“No.” A small, amused smile played on his lips.

“Are you secretly a crazy old cat man?” I asked, still not convinced.

I wouldn’t judge if he had three cats waiting for him at home, but it would certainly explain some things. Like why he was late–feeding his litter of cats probably took longer than he expected–and why he kept asking if the cat got my tongue and then following it up with the opinion that I looked like I never shut up. His cats probably drove him up the wall with all the meowing all day.

“A crazy old cat man? I can’t say I’ve ever heard that before.”

“Would you prefer that I refer to you as a crazy old cat lady?”

“No,” he denied, his lips twitching a little higher at the corners. “I’d rather you didn’t associate me with cats. Or a crazy person.” He paused to chuckle, an amused glint in his eyes, but I couldn’t bring myself to match it. "Like I said before, you don’t look like the kind of woman to stay quiet for so long.” He quirked a questioning brow, daring me to deny his claim.

“What is that supposed to mean?” I snapped, very aware that I was falling right into his perfectly laid-out trap. I didn't need to spend much time around Cedric to know that he liked to get a rise out of people, and frankly, I was doing just that. I was giving him exactly what he wanted, and I hated myself for it.

Cedric shrugged and wiped a hand down his face. It did nothing to erase the smirk from his face like he probably intended.

“Why are you smirking at me?” I asked, staring him straight in the eyes, daring him to deny it.

“I’m not smirking at you.”

"It sure looks like you're smirking at me."

“I’ll try to keep my face neutral when I’m around you, but I’m not making any promises.” Cedric made a point of dropping the smirk, but I swear I could still see the tell-tale signs of it beneath the surface, just waiting for the right moment to make an appearance again. “Does that work for you?”

I didn’t answer.

“You don’t look like the love child of Clarke and Donovan Remington.” He vocalised the observation, a thoughtful expression on his face as he studied me. I shifted uncomfortably and looked away for a moment. There was something so personal and intense about Cedric's gaze. Almost like he could see beneath the surface to my soul, at my greatest fears and desires. “I mean, physically, yes. You’ve got your dad’s eyes and your mum’s hair, but you don’t look too much like either of them.”

“I can’t believe you’ve met my parents already,” I groaned, suddenly remembering that Cedric was already well-acquainted with them.

"I'm afraid I have," Cedric chuckled and held his hands up in surrender. "Why do you ask like it's such a bad thing? Clarke and Don are great people. Carefree and go-with-the-flow kind of people. Nothing–" He tried to cut himself off, but he wasn't quick enough.

“Nothing like me,” I finished for him.

"I promise I didn’t mean anything by it this time.” He flashed his pearly whites at me, and I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Again.

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