Page 63 of The Blind Date

“Childish. Dramatic. What’s the difference?” Cedric asked, a dark eyebrow quirked.

"There are quite a few differences, I'll have you know," I snorted. "But fine. Childish, dramatic, whatever. I'll take them both if you want."

“Now that we’ve got that out of the way, let’s get down to the real issue here.” He crossed his arms over his chest, his expression growing serious. “Why did you sneak out the morning after we slept together?”

“I didn’t know what to say to you.”

“I see a pattern here.”

"Look, I don't have an explanation, okay?" I sighed and pursed my lips. Just as I had been avoiding Cedric this past week, I had also been doing my best to try and avoid my growing feelings for him. “When I woke up, I panicked. I don't know what it was exactly, but I just knew that I needed to get out of there. When I got to work, I felt silly for leaving without saying anything, but then I felt bad, and when you texted me, I started feeling worse."

"So, you regret sleeping with me?" Cedric frowned with a tinge of sadness about him despite his best attempts at hiding it.

“Is that all you got from what I said?”

“Just answer the question, Saffron. Do you regret sleeping with me?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then you don’t regret sleeping with me?”

“I don’t regret sleeping with you in the slightest,” I clarified, hating the way my cheeks heated. “I just didn’t know what to do with my feelings after acknowledging what happened between us.”

“I’m glad to hear that you didn’t regret that night,” he exhaled in relief. “But I need to know if you’re going to react the same way when it happens again.”

“Again?” I squeaked.

When people said there was a fine line between love and hate, they sure weren't joking. Now, I wasn't saying that I loved Cedric Barlowe–far from it, actually–but it was suddenly apparent to me that I didn't hate him as much as I previously led myself to believe. Sure, Cedric still wasn't a walk in the park to deal with and often got under my skin without even doing anything, but the dynamics of our relationship–was friendship or acquaintanceship a better way to describe it?–had now forever changed.

We had crossed the line, and it appeared that there was no going back. We just needed to figure out if we would go forward with whatever this was.

“What? You thought that night was a one-time thing?” Cedric asked, his lips turning up in a slow smirk.

“Do you really think I’d let you back in my apartment?” I countered, matching his smirk.

"I'm not a vampire where I require permission to enter an apartment," he chortled.

“You may not be a vampire, but normal humans find themselves spending the night in the local police station if they break into someone’s apartment.”

"First, you ignore me for days, and now you threaten to get me locked up under false allegations?"

"You're so dramatic I can't deal with it." I laughed, but the humoured sound didn't last for long. Not when I could tell that under all the playfulness, he was anxiously waiting for me to answer his previous questions. "I'm sorry for how I've behaved with you these past few days. It would have been far easier if I just told you straight away that I was confused."

“Confused about me?”

I nodded. “One moment I absolutely hated your guts, and the next, I was waking up in bed next to you. Not only did I no longer hate you, but I realised that I never hated you in the first place. I wanted to hate you because it would have been easier than acknowledging my growing feelings for you, but I give up. I like you, Cedric, and now I have to deal with the reality of that. I realise now that that was only because I liked you and couldn't deal with the truth of that. Especially since you're so adamant about annoying me all the time.”

When a slow, spiteful smirk slid onto his face, I knew I had spoken too much, but it was too late to take it all back.

“Are you guys done because I'm starving?" Cillian approached us, gesturing to our parents who were gathered behind him and animatedly talking among themselves.

Cedric pursed his lips and continued to stare at me, the smirk now gone. The questioning look in his eyes asked me if we were done, and I simply nodded before slipping past the Barlowe brothers to join our parents. As much as I wanted to make up an excuse to leave, I couldn’t. Not when this was important to my parents.

After all, it wasn't every day they qualified for the semi-finals in an amateur golf competition.

I congratulated them all once again, and once Cedric and Cillian had joined us, we headed to the parking lot to get into our cars in search of a place that did a Sunday roast. I sat in the backseat of my parent's car, and while they discussed the competition, I turned to stare out the window, zoning out.

Cedric Barlowe was by far the most obnoxious, annoying, and possibly even narcissistic man I had ever been unfortunate enough to come across. But if I truly believed that, then why couldn’t I stop thinking about him?

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