Page 83 of The Blind Date

"Go on," I prompted her.

"I'm really glad you're giving Cedric a chance.” Alina turned off the tap and dried her hands on a dishtowel. "Not for him, but for you. You deserve it, Saff.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, my eyebrows knitting together in the middle.

"I don't think you realise it, but sometimes when you're with us, you look kind of sad. You always say that you're tired or that it's been a long day, but I know you find it difficult to be around all of us sometimes because we're all coupled up, and you feel like the eleventh wheel."

"I do feel lonely sometimes," I admitted, my cheeks warming slightly at the realisation that I hadn’t been a good enough actress as I had thought.

“And that’s completely fine,” she assured me, reaching out to take my hands in hers, giving them a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “I’m not saying that you need to be with anyone because I know you’re far too independent for that, as you should be, but I just don’t want you to be lonely, you know? I want you to be happy.”

“I know, and that’s why you’re my best friend.” I squeezed her hands back. “I don’t know where things might go with Cedric, or even if they’ll go anywhere, but I’m excited to explore it with him. I’ve never felt this way before,” I admitted in a small voice.

“I’m so excited for you.” Alina beamed at me before the light in her eyes dimmed slightly. “Just don’t hurt him, okay? I don’t know the full story, but I know he’s been through a lot.”

Her words threw me off a little, but I nodded in silent agreement before we resumed washing the rest of the dishes.

Me? Hurt Cedric? Impossible. If one of us were going to hurt the other, it would be Cedric hurting me. Not the other way round.

ChapterTwenty-One

“Ihope you’re not lactose intolerant because there’s a lot of cheese on this pizza,” Cedric announced as he walked into my apartment. “But if you are, I’m more than happy to eat it all myself.”

“The only thing I’m intolerant of on pizza is pineapple,” I called out from the utility room.

"I feel the same way, so we're all good there," he replied, his voice gradually growing louder as he got closer to me. "How's your boiler holding up?" Cedric leaned against the doorway of my tiny utility room, his eyes watching me more than the boiler in question.

"Sandra, my landlady ended up calling someone to check it out when she got back, but he said that you had already fixed the issue,” I shot him a grateful smile over my shoulder as I emptied the last of my washing machine, very aware that my admission that would do nothing but stroke his already-inflated ego.

"Well, I do aim to please,” Cedric grinned cheekily before reaching to take the full laundry basket from me.

“What are you doing?” I asked curiously, watching as he moved toward my bedroom with the basket, looking rather domesticated.

“Helping you with your laundry.” He shrugged. “Where do you want this?”

“Just leave it at the bottom of my wardrobe,” I told him. “I’ll deal with it in the morning.”

“You sure you don’t want to put it out for dry?” Cedric asked, almost sounding disturbed by my lack of care for the damp clothes in the basket he was holding.

“Honestly, I can’t be bothered,” I groaned, moving into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water for the both of us.

"Let me do it for you," he offered, leaving no room for argument as he began walking around my apartment and laying out my clothes on the radiators. When he realised that they weren't turned on, he proceeded to do that, and the whole time, I couldn't help but watch in awe.

No one had ever done something like this for me before. Certainly not any of my ex-boyfriends. And to think, this was the same man who loved to wind me up as if it was his day job.

“How was your day?” I asked as I began setting up the coffee table with our dinner.

Cedric shrugged. “It was all right. A little stressful, but it's much better now that I'm here with you."

"When did you get so cheesy?" I snickered, but deep down, his words sent the butterflies in my stomach off in a frenzy.

"Around the time that we started dating," he told me, and since he had finished with the last of my laundry, he turned to stare at me, his eyes locking with mine. "Does that put you off?"

“No.” My smile dimmed just slightly. “Why would that put me off?”

He shook his head. “No reason,” he denied and then asked, gesturing to the empty laundry basket he now held in his arms, “Where do you want this?”

“Back in the utility room would be great. On top of the washing machine.”

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