Page 92 of The Blind Date

“I promise I’m not judging or pitying you, Cedric," I sighed. "I'm just trying to get to know you better. I wish you trusted me enough to let me in.”

Cedric completely ignored what I said, lost in the spiralling thoughts that clouded his mind.

"You're thinking, what's wrong with him? Why is he still so hung up over his ex-wife if they got divorced five years ago?" He chuckled bitterly.

"I'm not thinking anything like that.” My voice was gentle and quiet, not wanting to upset him more than I already had.

Pushing him to open up about his divorce was a mistake. It would have been more considerate if I had just waited for him to open up to me when he was ready because now, all I had succeeded in was upsetting Cedric.

“I was thinking that it must have really hurt you.”

“Now you’re feeling sorry for me.”

“I’m not feeling sorry for you,” I said, but there really wasn’t any point.

I could feel him recoiling from me. It was a terrible feeling and an even more terrible thing to watch–the storm in his eyes calming down as he took several metaphorical steps back in an attempt to escape me. Pushing away the dread that was starting to settle in the pit of my stomach, I called out to him, but he shook his head.

“We should have just left it at your date.” Cedric rolled his eyes.

If I were thinking clearly, I wouldn't have been so affected by his words. I would have realised that he was more so talking to himself more than anything else, but instead, I took his words to heart, and that's when the evening went from uncomfortable to unrecoverable.

"You get upset with me over something that was out of my control, but then you also won’t explain yourself to me? How is that fair?" I snapped at him, allowing my frustrations and emotions to get the best of me.

What a mistake that was.

“How can you demand that I share all my past traumas with you? How is that fair?” Cedric countered, a deep scowl on his face.

“I’m not demanding that you tell me,” I sighed, unable to see the clear road ahead. Somehow, along the way, we had managed to dig ourselves a hole so deep that it was nearly impossible to escape without getting into an explosive argument. “I just feel like you never tell me anything. I feel like you know so much about me, but you don’t share anything meaningful about yourself. You’re always holding back.”

“I’m not holding back anything. I tell you enough,” he argued.

"Everything you tell me is surface-level,” I disagreed. "None of what you do tell me is real or deep or means anything. You withhold all of that from me."

“I don’t withhold things from you," he continued to argue.

“Okay, fine.” I rolled my eyes. “Let’s get back to you suggesting that we keep a secret but then get your panties in a twist when we actually do that.”

“My panties are not in a twist,” he snapped but was quick to catch himself. “And I don’t wear female panties," he laughed, but I was too far gone to find his comment funny.

I scowled. “This isn’t funny.”

“And it wasn’t funny when you went out withRichard.”

“I’m not having this argument with you again.” I threw my hands into the air in frustration. “You’re overreacting.”

“Don’t tell me I’m overreacting,” Cedric spat and jumped up to his feet. He grabbed his jacket from the back of the sofa but didn’t bother slipping it on as he stormed off toward the door.

“Cedric?” I called out after him, my voice laced with panic. “Where are you going?”

"Home," he threw the word over his shoulder, but before he could open the door, a sharp knock sounded on it. He paused but then glared at me over his shoulder. "I bet that's Richard.”

"You have got to be joking," I exclaimed in anger. "Do you even know how you sound right now? Let me tell you something, Cedric Barlowe," I spat after him, my eyes blazing with anger as he turned his back on me, getting ready to walk away again. "Green is not a good colour on you. Jealousy does not become you!”

Cedric opened his mouth for no doubt, yet another counterargument, but before he could say anything, another sharp knock sounded on the door.

"Who could that be at this time of night?" I huffed in frustration, still far from done with this argument.

Cedric leaned forward and pressed his eye against the peephole. A few moments passed before he slowly turned to me, a worrisome expression on his face.

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