48 First Dates (Seeking Romance #1)

The Prince I Misjudged

21

Download Royal Swype;

Cynthia chooses a prince;

I misjudge the chance.

T he next morning, I woke up to something tickling my face. A salty breeze was blowing pieces of hair into my face. I pushed the strands back and went to sit up.

Nope. That wasn’t happening.

I gingerly turned my head. I was on an ugly yellow couch at the edge of a tiled room. There was an old wooden coffee table with a smokey glass insert on my left. I lifted my head slightly and glanced down. I was wearing a hot pink bikini and matching cowboy boots.

Where was I?

Why wasn’t I in my bed?

How had I ended up in this outfit in this place?

And what happened to my sundress?

I lifted my head a bit more, and the noonday sun from the open window tore a streak of pain through it. I squeezed my eyes shut. Flashes of Pi?a Coladas paraded through my head, marching in on a drumbeat of regret. One that still didn’t explain my current state.

How many Pi?a Coladas did I have?

When did I get pink cowboy boots?

And why couldn’t I remember what happened to my sundress?

I groaned as I tried opening my eyes once more. Through the slits of my eyes, I saw the upside-down heads of my two best friends. Cynthia’s eyebrows squeezed together, and her lips flattened into a thin line. Mitzi’s nostrils flared, and her penetrating gaze pinned me to the couch.

“Oh, look who woke up,” Mitzi screamed. At least, it felt like she was screaming.

“Um... what happened last night?” My voice cracked as I rubbed my forehead, willing the gap in my memory to fill.

“What happened last night? What happened last night, she asks?” Mitzi glared as she swept her arms over my present state. Cynthia swung her head back and forth in disappointment.

I opened my mouth to respond, but Mitzi’s tongue was quicker. “Adelaide Ann! We kept you out of trouble, which wasn’t easy! You were a sloppy mess, drinking every Pi?a Colada in sight. You bought boots off some random stranger at the bar because they looked cute.” She finger-quoted the word cute. My stomach squeezed at the thought of someone else’s shoes being on my feet. I needed to get up and take them off, but Mitzi wasn’t done.

“You threw your dress in the trash right before you vomited all over it. No way we salvaged that one. Then, you started doing the worm on the dance floor in your bikini! You can imagine how well that went. You almost gave the entire bar quite a show until we picked you up and carried you out of there. When we got home, you weren’t much help, so we dumped you in the first spot we could. Do you have any idea what might have happened if we hadn’t been there? I can not believe you!”

Cynthia and Mitzi stared at me, waiting for an answer. It took me a moment to absorb the words. My stomach roiled, and my head hurt too much to think of the alternative endings. All I did was stare at the hot pink leather boots. “I’m sorry. I just... lost track. It won’t happen again.”

Cynthia and Mitzi both let out puffs of disgust as they stomped off, sounding like a herd of elephants on the tile floor. I heard the door slam and assumed they had left to go to the beach.

I took my time getting up to search for Tylenol and Gatorade. The cool tile floor provided some relief as I crawled to find the bathroom. In the head-splitting light of morning, the drink-for-relief plan didn’t hold as much allure. I knew I needed to get help dealing with my dad’s death and what happened with Wyatt.

After the electrolytes and pain meds did their work, I put on the biggest hat and sunglasses I owned. I opened the door and joined the girls on the beach. As the refreshing ocean breeze wafted over us, I apologized once more. I told them my plan was to get help when we got home. I promised that the rest of the trip wouldn’t include any more Pi?a Coladas or any alcohol for that matter.

We enjoyed the beach and the water. We talked for hours. I approached no more guys. And I got a charm with the Puerto Rican flag to remind me of how it needed to stay that way.

But my resolve waned over the rest of the trip. I convinced myself that the night with Diego had been a one-off.

I was fine.

I could handle my problems.

So, I returned to college that fall, pretending to be fine. I only needed a sip here and there to keep the pain vortex at bay. No need for overkill. The illusion worked well in my mind as long as I didn’t look under my bed.

On the third Friday after we returned to school for the fall semester, the five of us were together eating dinner at our apartment. We were lamenting our lack of love lives, at least all of us except Cynthia.

She laughed at our whining and asked, “Why don’t you guys try that new app, Royal Swype?”

Royal Swype was a dating app currently taking college campuses by storm. It presented you with potential matches, and you swiped up or down. Up if you wanted them in your kingdom, i.e., you wanted to talk with them about a potential date. Down if you wanted them out of your kingdom. You got points for matches that led to dates. The more dates you had with the same person, the closer you got to royalty.

“Cyn, you don’t understand—you have Christopher. It’s nearly impossible to choose someone based on a profile on an app!” Mitzi complained.

“Okay, then let me do it. You guys create your profiles. I’ll swipe the people who I think you should go out with into your kingdom,” Cynthia proposed.

We all grumbled, except Brenn. “Guys, my dad always says, ‘Success is no accident.’ Let’s give it a shot.”

I rolled my eyes at him, but I still picked up my phone and downloaded the app. We all worked together on our profiles and handed our phones to her.

She swiped up three times and handed the phone back to me. In my kingdom, I found three guys, one rather average, a vanilla-looking guy named Brian. A skinny guy with dark hair named Kyle. And a studious-looking young man named Logan.

“Cynthia! These are NOT guys I would pick. I am not doing this!” I argued.

“Yes, you are,” she said with the force of a southern momma. “You need to try something different.”

I pouted, feeling like she had swiped a few people at random. She probably swiped every third guy because there was no rhyme or reason to her selections. But we had agreed to try it her way.

After the boys left, Cynthia insisted we check the app again. “Here goes nothing,” I said, sarcasm woven into my words as I checked my phone for messages.

The first of Cynthia’s picks had accepted the swipe and texted back right away.

Logan

Hey, thanks for swiping me into your kingdom! Meet up tomorrow?

Might as well get these dates over as quickly as I can. I replied:

Me

Sure, what did you have in mind?

Logan

How about we meet in the main quad in the afternoon? We can go for a walk to the ice cream shop and get to know each other.

“Cynthia, he wants to meet in the main quad. He’d better not be another medieval knight wannabe!”

“Bless your heart; give it a chance!”

Me

Be there at 3

Logan

See ya then

I showed the exchange to Mitzi and asked, “Aren’t ya worried about finding him on the quad?”

“No, should I be?” I asked.

“Well, his picture is of a pretty standard guy with medium brown hair, clean-cut and swept back. However, he is a math major, so it’s not a far leap to picture him in a button-up shirt. Maybe he’ll have a pocket protector and taped-up glasses?”

I scowled at Cynthia. “You got me into this mess. There better not be a pocket protector involved!”

Mitzi laughed. “You know that button-up shirt is going to be perfectly tucked into khakis, and he’ll have loafers on. But math guys do know their angles...”

My friends fell into a giggle fit as I rolled my eyes. Mitzi was right, though. This could be an interesting first date.

The next day, Logan was easy to spot.

Khakis and loafers—check.

White button-up shirt tucked into his pants—check.

Taped-up glasses—ugh... check.

Pocket protector—thank goodness Mitzi missed the boat on that one!

“Logan?” I asked as I walked up to him. He smelled a bit like leather and chalk, with a hint of grape soda.

“That would make you Adelaide.”

“Yep. I wasn’t sure because you didn’t have glasses in your picture,” I said with more of an edge than I intended.

“Um, yeah, I slept with my contacts in and my eyes... I had to wear my old glasses instead today. Not my normal look, but that’s life.” He shrugged and grinned. “You look great!”

I felt bad, so I said, “It’s not a bad thing. The glasses are just different. And thanks.”

“Should we go?”

I nodded, and we started walking up the quad toward the ice cream shop.

“So your profile said you like fairy tales?” Logan asked.

“Yep, my parents used to read them to us every night growing up.” I winced at the memory.

“Me, too. My mom would narrate, and my dad would do all the voices, pausing for dramatic effect at all the right places. They promised to do the same for her grandkids one day. Although, I made them promise not to read The Snow Queen because I had nightmares for weeks after that one. Not that I’m thinking about kids now... just making conversation... a conversation that includes me being scared by a fairy tale... wow, sorry, I’m a bit rusty at this.” He said with another smile as he opened the door to the shop.

The fragrance of cream and sugar hit me like a wave. The nostalgia swept over me as I took in the bubble gum pink shop. My mouth watered as I remembered how good the ice cream was here. Logan stepped in behind me.

I turned to him and said, “Thanks, and no worries. It’s nice your parents will be able to do that.” Then, without thinking, I added, “Mine can’t. My dad’s dead.”

Apparently, I wasn’t so good at this either.

“Umm, sorry to hear that. What happened? Only if you want to talk about it. If not, we can talk about something else,” he offered.

“Cancer. And no, I don’t want to talk about it.” Even I was shocked by my tone. I took a deep breath, attempting to stuff down the black hole of pain. Thankfully, our turn to order came.

We got our ice creams and walked over to a high-top table to eat. The cold metal chairs creaked as we sat down. I took a spoonful of praline ice cream from my dish before I asked, “So, what do you want to do?”

“Teach math,” he said with the biggest grin on his face. That launched him into a passionate speech about inspiring kids to see math as a language. He was passionate about helping kids understand the subject in a new way. He obviously knew what he wanted to do, and it was cute to see his eyes light up when he talked about the future.

If I hadn’t been pulled into the vortex of loss, I would have seen it.

I would have appreciated how he asked about my interests and what I wanted to do in the future. But at the mention of my father, my heart shut down. I tried to fight it and thought I had a handle on it, but I was sucked right back into the abyss. And with the absence of feeling, all I wanted was to finish my ice cream and go home.

Later that night, at our apartment, I reported all the details of our date to Brenn and Cynthia. I told them the questions he asked, the doors he opened, and the ice cream he had paid for.

I ended with my final assessment. “He had taped-up glasses. He wanted to teach math. And he brought up my dad! I can’t go out with someone like that. The second date is not happening.” I rolled my eyes for emphasis before saying, “Cynthia, these other two had better be good, or else...”

“Or else, what?” Cynthia placed a hand on her hip as she tilted her head to the side.

Sensing the direction this was about to go, Brenn interrupted, “Give her a break, Adelaide. She’s just trying to help.”

My head swiveled in his direction. “Who asked your opinion?”

“Whoa, relax. Besides, from what you told us, he seemed like a nice guy. You might want to try giving those kinds of guys a chance.”

My head jerked back, and my eyes flew open.

I quickly rearranged my features and put on a tart smile. “That’s what I love about you, Brenn—you’re always so honest. And you don’t sugarcoat it.” I glared at him, lacing my words with as much sarcasm as possible.

Sadness tinged the edges of his eyes as he looked away. I thought I heard him say, “Not always,” under his breath, but I was too irritated with him to find out.

Instead, I turned around in a huff and waltzed out of the room.