48 First Dates (Seeking Romance #1)

The Prince of Cat-Walking

11

A lone cat-walker,

meeting him leads to a date,

but not my boyfriend.

I never found out exactly why Michael ran from the campus cops that night. He never spoke to me again. I don’t know if he was embarrassed or if he didn’t like me, but I wasn’t interested in pestering him to find out. We only had one class together, and his attendance was hit-or-miss. When he showed up, he avoided me, and I avoided him like a dirty, stinky sock on the floor of the bathroom. You know it’s there, but you don’t want to be the one to recognize it and have to pick it up.

The circulating rumors claimed he was caught growing marijuana in his room. This made sense, given his ardent interest in horticulture. If the rumor turned out to be true, the university allowed him to stay, which was pretty surprising. My first college date needed some representation, so I added a leaf charm to my bracelet and moved on.

A month and a half later, Mitzi and I sat outside, getting some sun. We were chatting about safe subjects, like school, when she threw out, “So, Brenn is hotter than I remember him being on the trail.”

Not me. I remember.

“Yeah, he’s easy to look at.” I gazed down at my fingers, pretending to be super interested in my nails. I picked at the fleece blanket we sat on.

“And… he’s a nice guy. Like super nice. Not the fake- chivalrous-in-order-to-get-in-your-pants kind of nice.” Mitzi bumped my shoulder.

I don’t like where this is going…

“Yeah, he’s a great guy friend.” I leaned back and threw her a sidelong glance from the corner of my eye. Didn’t she remember Brenn saying what great friends we were several weeks ago when we were all out to dinner? Friends, great friends, but nothing more. He made that clear, and I knew then and there that I had to quash any beginnings of a crush.

“He’s single,” Mitzi said with a smile and wide, expectant eyes.

Uh-oh…she knows…

“Yeah.” My insides squirmed. The seed of a crush had been gingerly trying to push its way out of the soil of my heart. I had been doing my best to manhandle it back down. I’d seen Brenn’s type, and it wasn’t me. I was the sidekick, best friend type to him.

I looked away, hoping she would drop her line of questioning.

Take the hint, Mitzi.

She didn’t. “You should—” Mitzi paused, giving me a look that said you know what you should do.

Yeah, but I can’t.

That’s when I noticed a well-built, dark-skinned man attached to a white puffball cat. He wore a Frogmore University football T-shirt and cargo pants. In his hand was a glitter-covered pink leash that led to a matching harness wrapped around the kitty.

I needed to change Mitzi’s line of questioning. I asked, “Why in the world would a guy that good-looking be walking a cotton puffball down the street?”

Both of us stared at the man with the cat. The setup, though not what you would expect, declared he was walking the cat. The execution screamed the cat walked him. This I have to know about. “Let’s go find out.”

Before she could respond, I popped up. I strode over the expanse of grass to where the guy stood with his back to me. He waited for the cat to finish licking its paw. I debated about how to say hi when the cat shot up like a puffed-up ping-pong ball and captured a fly.

There’s my in.

“Wow!” I exclaimed. “Your cat is an acrobat.”

“Not my cat. Not an acrobat. Just a certified pain in the...” The guy trailed off mid-rant. Right when he paused, his chocolate-brown eyes met mine. “Hi, I’m Christoper,” he offered in a much more inviting tone.

“Adelaide. And this is my friend, Mitzi.” I gestured toward the space where my best friend should have been. Turned out she hadn’t followed this little escapade.

“Um, well, at least...” I scanned the lawn for Mitzi. “There she is!” I spotted her still glued to the patch of lawn we had claimed, her head buried in a book.

Christopher laughed. “It appears your friend is like this cat. She only goes where she wants to go.”

“Yeah, it appears that way.” I chuckled and said, “What’s the story with the cat? I overheard you saying it wasn’t yours.”

“It’s my sister’s. She’s visiting me. And my dear sister insisted, read demanded, that I take her cat for a walk so that Coconut here could get the lay of the land. My sister’s cat psychologist’s boyfriend recommended it. Says it will keep precious kitty from peeing on the carpet in my apartment.” Christopher said as he rolled his eyes.

I stifled a giggle. “That sounds reasonable.”

“Really? Because I think it’s the most unreasonable request my dear sister has made in a line of suspect requests. But my momma raised me to respect women. When a woman in your family who is older than you asks you to do something, you say, ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Then, you do everything in your power to complete the task. Though I’m wondering if my sweet, older sister is taking advantage of that knowledge.” Christopher gestured at the cat and the sparkly pink leash.

“Yeah, I’m starting to agree with you.” I smiled at him.

Right then, Coconut decided it was time to continue her walk. The cat yanked on the leash with a force I didn’t think possible for an animal of her stature. The puffball pulled Christopher down the sidewalk. As he was being dragged backward, he said, “Look, Coconut will not wait. I would like to keep talking to you. Can you meet me in an hour at the burger place downtown?”

I nodded.

“Great, it’s a date!” With that, Christopher chased after Coconut. Coconut pursued a squirrel. The squirrel ran for its life toward the nearby oaks.

I finally let the giggle out as I walked back to Mitzi. “I’ve got a date,” I gloated.

Mitzi sat up with a what-did-you-just-say expression on her face.

“Yep, a date. With Christopher. In an hour.” I confirmed.

Mitzi shook off the astonishment and said, “Way to go, girl. We have got to get you ready!”

We picked up our towels and headed back to the dorm. Cynthia was already in their room, so the two of them helped me freshen up. We picked out an outfit as we made a plan. I knew nothing about Christopher other than that his sister had a cat and that his momma taught him to respect women. I wasn’t taking any chances. Tom’s Burgers was always busy. There’d be plenty of people in case it went south. But Mitzi and Cynthia planned to drop in “by chance” about thirty minutes into the date to make sure all was well.

With the plan in place, they shoved me out the door, smelling like a honeysuckle and hopefulness. They wished me luck and promised they would be by soon.

The whole five-minute walk downtown, I kept telling myself this wasn’t a crazy thing to do. Normal people meet on the street. Those normal people go out on dates. And those normal people end up having fairytale lives. It makes a good story for the grandkids. This was a normal bump-into introduction, not meet-cute fodder for a romance movie.

When I got there, Christopher waited for me. He had changed into a pair of hip-hugging jeans and a short-sleeve white polo shirt. The kind that accentuated his muscles and dark skin. He smelled like Axe Body Spray. It was nice to see he had put in a bit of effort.

His eyes roved over me as I walked up—like he was seeing me for the first time. I was glad that the girls had suggested wearing low-rise jeans with a white, fringed top and matching espadrilles.

“Hi,” I said breathlessly.

“Hey,” Christopher offered me his arm. We walked inside and ordered at the counter. He paid and found us a table.

Our conversation was awkward. It didn’t flow the same as it had earlier out on the street. I asked about the Coconut. He asked about my major. Then, an awkward silence descended as we dipped and ate salty fry after salty fry.

I took in the burger-joint decor. There were lots of old pendants and jerseys splattered around the shiny, orange walls. To the right of the exit, near where we sat, hung a picture of this year’s football team. I noticed a guy in the second row. One that looked very familiar.

“Wait, do you play football?”

Christopher nodded. He opened his mouth, and the football talk began. It was no surprise he lived and breathed football. But the regret over asking that simple question built as he continued to talk. When Mitzi and Cynthia walked in, I shot them a “HELP ME!” look, and they headed over. I expected introductions, followed by an awkward exit.

But when Cynthia got close, she gasped. “Christopher Banks! The Christopher Banks. You can run the forty-yard dash in four-point-seven seconds. You’ve rushed six hundred yards already this season and earned us seven touchdowns so far. It is an honor to meet you, sir.” Cynthia laid the southern accent on thick.

Excuse me? Cynthia knows football? I stared at Cynthia as she gushed.

My gaze swiveled to Christopher when he asked, “A fan? What’s your name, sweetie?” Christopher glowed.

“I’m Cynthia, Cynthia Pritchard-Kennedy. I’m friends with Adelaide Ann. I can’t believe that she didn’t tell me you were you!” Cynthia raved as she pulled a chair over and sat down next to Christopher. The two continued their football talk, completely ignoring Mitzi and me.

After 30 minutes, Christopher cleared his throat. He looked over at me. “Sorry about that. I get wrapped up in football.”

I raised my hands in a don’t-worry-about-it gesture.

Christopher nodded and said, “I’ll be right back, ladies—I need to go see a man about a river.”

As he walked away, I frustrated-whispered, “Cynthia, what the H-E-double hockey sticks!”

Cynthia’s face turned red as she grimaced. “I am so sorry. We’ll leave. He’s so, well, he’s just so interesting. I could talk football all night with him.” She said with a dreamy look in her eyes. She shook her head and said, “But we’ll go. It’s your date.”

That’s when I called an audible. “Cyn, he was boring the snot out of me before you guys got here. There was no connection. And there clearly is one between you two. How about Mitzi and I head out? You can say we had to go study and take it from there.”

“Really, you would do that for me?” Cynthia’s eyebrows shot up, and her mouth formed an O.

“Of course,” I said. Although I was doing it for myself—ice cream with Mitzi sounded way better than any more football talk with Christopher. He was a nice guy but not the guy for me. Mitzi and I left before Christopher got back.

It turned out that he and Cynthia talked until Tom’s Burgers closed at midnight. As he walked her back to the dorm, they set a date for the following night. They ended up dating throughout college, and on until... well, that story is not mine to tell.

What is mine is this story.

The tale of first date number 12. The one where I bumped into the Prince of Cat-Walking and added a white cat to my bracelet. The prince who ended up being Cynthia’s first—and only—college boyfriend.