Page 17 of The Blind Date

"I know we didn't start on the right foot, but things haven’t been that terrible, have they?”

I knew he was teasing me, but that didn’t make it any less annoying.

“Well, they certainly haven’t been great.”

“Oh, come on. I’ve already apologised for running into you.”

“I don’t remember you apologising.”

“Well, I’m sorry for running into you outside.” The mirth swimming in his eyes told me that no part of his apology was genuine. Instead of being irked by it, I struggled to keep my lips from twitching up at the corners and matching his expression.

“And nearly knocking me off my feet,” I added.

“And nearly knocking you off your feet,” he repeated with a chuckle. "Happy now?”

“And then you turned up half an hour late.”

"I'm sure it was twenty minutes, and I have a good excuse for that.”

“It can’t be that good if you’re referring to it as an excuse.”

“I beg to differ.” He cocked a daring brow at me. “I wanted to get in a quick jog before our date, but then your mum called me. I have a feeling my mum sold me out there because I didn’t give my number to your mum. Anyway, I think she was prepping me for the date. It ran a little long hence, I was late. She must have called you straight after she got off the phone with me.”

"Why am I not surprised?" I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut in embarrassment. "I'm sorry. My parents, especially my mum, can be a little intense sometimes. They have this notion that I’m going to be single and alone my whole life, and I guess you’re their favourite so far.”

“Favourite?” He asked, his interest piqued. “So far?”

“Let’s just say I’ve been on more than a few blind dates this week.” I winced at the way it sounded.

“Oh please, do tell me more,” Cedric grinned as he rested his arms on the table and leaned forward, a humoured glint in his eyes. “I’m very intrigued.”

“I will.” I subconsciously matched his posture and grin. “After you tell me what Alina meant when she said you were more experienced than me.”

For a fraction of a second, Cedric’s grin dropped but he was quick to catch himself. “How does Alina know how many people I’ve slept with?” There was a thoughtful expression on his face, as if he was trying to figure out the answer, but I could tell it was just for show. I had seen his expression drop at my question, and now I was curious to know more.

Though now that he had mentioned it, I couldn’t help but wonder what Cedric’s body count was. The confident aura and cocky smirk gave off the vibe that he got pretty much all the women he wanted, but he was also far too narcissistic to hold even a five-minute conversation. After some thought, I settled on between ten and twenty but told myself I wouldn’t be surprised if the number was much higher than that.

“I’ve already asked, and she's denied you being a player,” I said. "Honestly, I don't know what she was referring to, and when I asked, she said that she'll let you tell me about it. So, Cedric Barlowe, in what way are you more experienced than me?"

Cedric stared at me and as the seconds ticked by, his lips slowly turned down at the corners until they were stretched into a thin, tight line. By the end, he was full-on glowering at me, looking as if he had a dark cloud hovering over his head.

“Alina doesn’t know what she’s talking about.” His tone was sharp, but it had nothing on the dark way he was glaring at me. “I’ve only met Alina a few times, so I don’t know how that makes her think she’s qualified to run her mouth about me behind my back.”

"She wasn’t running her mouth. I was only joking. It’s not even that serious." I pursed my lips, my expression now matching his. "Alina just mentioned something, and I simply asked you about it. You don't have to answer it if you don't want to, but there's no need to be such a dick."

"You're the one prying into my personal business, and I'm the dick?"

What was up with this guy? One moment he was teasing me and joking about like we were old friends and the next, he was snapping at me for asking a simple question. With all this back and forth, I feared this guy would give me a serious case of whiplash.

He was more hot and cold than Katy Perry’s runaway groom in her 2000’s hit song.

“I don’t think we should talk anymore,” I snapped at him, my lips tugging down into a deep frown.

“Then what’s the point of this date?”

I wasn't falling for that. Cedric was getting on my nerves, and retaliating each time was only goading the situation. He was a very unpleasant man who clearly suffered from some sort of bipolar disorder, or at the very least, horrid mood swings. Was it even worth sticking around for my food to arrive? I didn’t know how much more of him I could put up with.

Before I came to a conclusive decision, Logan finally showed up. I smiled warmly at him–albeit, it was a little tight around the corners–and allowed him to replace my strawberry daiquiri.

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