Chapter 24
Chapter
Twenty-Four
Dear Followers,
Let’s talk about what to wear for a night out! It depends on the occasion, obviously, but you can never go wrong with dark jeans and a sweater. You can dress it up with heels, a statement necklace, and a leather jacket, or dress it down with cool sneakers, boots, or a vest. Either way, add a versatile piece like this to your wardrobe. Links to sweater deals below!
Sincerely,
The Frugal Fashionista
Nerves jump in my belly as I survey myself in the mirror. I didn’t know what to expect for this date, so I went with dark jeans and a soft cream sweater. (A Target find.) Not too dressy, not too casual. I did an entire blog post on it, but it’s a lot easier to advise strangers on the internet than it is to feel confident in my personal choices.
I’m out of practice here. I’ve gone on dates before, but it’s been a hot minute. Recently, when anyone has asked me out, I’ve replied that I’m too busy for that. And it’s true. Nothing has changed in my schedule. Plus, I work for the hockey team. They implied it’s forbidden to date players. So why did I say yes?
Wisdom tells me I should have said no. But my heart beats faster when I think of Hunter. He came to Jace’s birthday party and made him feel special. He gave me a ride home and carried my bag, even when I insisted I didn’t need him. He made a goofy video for me when he didn’t have to. It’s no wonder my knees get weak when I see him. Not to mention the heat that gathers in my belly when I remember that kiss we shared.
Am I dumb for saying yes? Maybe. But he keeps showing up. He sees me in a way no one else does. I would have been an even bigger idiot if I had said no. And I would have regretted it.
Pursing my lips, I swipe a coat of tinted gloss across them. I lift my hair off my neck and play with style options until the doorbell rings. I guess I’ll just leave it down in long waves tonight.
By the time I grab my tan ankle booties and get to the door, my mom is already there, chatting up Hunter. She’s gushing over the bouquet of flowers he brought… her?
I raise a brow at that, and his dimple appears with a tiny smile. “You don’t seem like a flowers type of girl. But your mom? Definitely.”
She grabs his arm and gives me serious puppy dog eyes. “Could he be any sweeter?”
I have to laugh. Sucking up to my mom is a dating tactic I’m not familiar with, but well played, Hunter. She’ll be talking about this forever.
I clear my throat. “That’s very thoughtful of you. Am I dressed for the occasion?”
He nods. “You look perfect.”
While my mom awwws over that comment, I slip on my boots and the pea coat I just found on Thread Up. It’s not full-on winter coat weather yet, but it’s creeping closer every day.
I follow Hunter out the door as my mom kisses my cheek, whispering, “This one has potential. Give him a shot.”
I send her a pointed look, and she shrugs. “Flowers.”
Laughing, I wave goodbye to her and jog to the car. Hunter holds the passenger door open for me and I’m sure it impresses my mom, but I stick out my tongue at him. “Really?”
He smirks, and I’m close enough to smell his cologne. It’s divine. “I know. Being a gentleman—it’s this weird new thing I’m trying.”
I want to kiss the grin off his face, but I’m positive my mom is still watching from the window, so I merely slide into his car and buckle up. My heart pounds as he jogs around the hood and gets in. I take a moment to ogle his nice jeans and a Henley that is God’s gift to me. He should probably wear a coat, but I don’t mind the yummy view.
“So,” I ask as he starts the car and pulls out of my driveway, “Where are we going?”
Hunter sends me a brief glance and grins. “It’s killing you not to know, isn’t it?”
It one hundred percent is.
“No, it’s fine.” I force my lips into a smile. “I’m sure I’ll love whatever you picked.”
He laughs. “Liar.”
“What? Why am I a liar?”
He looks over at me out of the corner of his eye. “I can tell the difference between your fake positive attitude and the real you by now.”
My mouth drops open, and I sputter. “It’s not fake!”
He pats my knee. It should be condescending, but instead of pissing me off, it soothes.
“I know. You’re an optimist, and that’s growing on me. But you can be honest. You don’t have to act like you’re a customer service rep and you’re trying to make me happy.”
I blink. “Do I do that?”
“Sometimes. I appreciate the mindset behind it, but I want you to know—you don’t have to force yourself to be upbeat if you don’t feel that way.”
I mull over his words. “Okay.”
Hunter clears his throat. “So I gather you don’t like surprises?”
He drives downtown but not towards campus, and I’m desperate to know. But I play it cool.
“I’m a planner. Enough things in life happen without warning. I don’t need any extra ‘for fun.’” I make air quotes around my words and roll my eyes, and he chuckles as he pulls into a parking spot.
“Noted.” Then he points out the windshield. “Okay, I won’t keep you in suspense any longer. Have you been here before?”
I unbuckle, taking in the sign that proclaims, “Coffee and Cattitude.” A green awning hangs over the sidewalk, but a glare obscures the glass-fronted windows.
“Where are we?”
Hunter taps his fingers on his thigh. “It’s a cat cafe.”
I gasp. “No! I didn’t know there was one in Lafayette!”
“Yep, it just opened. Is this… an okay surprise?”
I bounce in my seat, then grab the door handle and throw it open. “It’s the best surprise! Come on!”
He laughs behind me as I hop out and practically sprint into the cafe. It’s warm inside, and the mouth-watering aroma of coffee and pastries hits me. A calico cat walks up and twines around my legs. Anything that’s left of my heart melts into a gooey puddle inside my chest.
“How about I get us drinks while you get to know this guy?” Hunter offers, and I nod, scooping up my new friend.
“She’s a girl,” I murmur to his retreating back as I bury my face in her soft fur. “Calicos are almost always female.”
Her purr vibrates through both of us, and my chest physically aches with how much I want her.
I carry her over to a faded pink chintz loveseat covered in cat hair and look around while she makes herself at home in my lap.
The interior is decorated with cat towers, and felines lounge on every available surface—but not the food counter, I’m happy to note. Tables dot the space, too, and cat-themed wallpaper lines the walls. It’s weird—cats sitting in teacups—and perfect. I love it.
There’s a poster on the wall by the menu with pictures of each cat and their names and ages. Only one calico is featured, so this must be Margaret in my lap. I whisper her name as she bumps her head against my hand and gazes at me.
Hunter comes over to us, carrying two white cups with black lids. “I forgot to ask what you wanted, but I got you a mocha. That’s what you had that night on the bus, right?”
Wow, he remembered. I nod as he hands me my drink. “My favorite. Thank you.”
He sits next to me, entirely too broad for this loveseat, and it squishes us together. I don’t mind. Staring at the cat kneading her paws against my legs—it’s exquisite—he reaches out and strokes her back.
“I had no idea it’d be so soft.” His voice is almost reverent, and I get it. There’s something precious about this cat.
“She.” I nod towards her and sip my drink, the mix of coffee and chocolate decadent on my tongue. “This is Margaret.”
“Nice to meet you,” Hunter says to the cat, then smiles at me.
God, his smile. My breath catches in my throat. It lights up his face, his teeth practically twinkle like a cartoon, and that dimple. If my hands weren’t occupied, I’d reach out and touch it for sure. Between the purring girl on my lap and the hottest guy I’ve ever seen next to me, this might be the world’s most perfect moment.
“Did you know every cat here is a rescue?”
I shake my head, overwhelmed with how much I want to kiss him. He shifts, putting his arm across the back of the couch and moving even closer to me so our faces are inches apart. His blue eyes lock on mine and draw me in like a magnet, and I give in.
Brushing my lips across his, an electrical current touches my spine. We keep it light and gentle, but I feel it from the crown of my head to my toes. How can one little kiss affect me so much?
I’m about to give in to my desire and deepen it when Margaret squeezes between us and meows. Pulling back, I laugh at her, and Hunter chuckles, shaking his head.
“This is great. Thank you,” I tell him.
“I’m glad you like it. We can stay as long as like, and then when you’re ready, we can go grab dinner.”
We stay, sipping our coffees and chatting while I pet Margaret. Eventually, she wanders away, and I finish my drink. Then I stand and try to brush the cat hair off my sweater.
“Oh, I thought of that, too,” Hunter says, and I raise a brow. “Come on.”
I follow him out to his car parked on the street in front of the cafe. After we get in, he reaches into the backseat and hands me a lint roller.
“Voila. For your designer clothes.”
“I probably shouldn’t pull the veil off your eyes on the first date,” I say, running the roller over my jeans as he starts the car. “But none of this is designer.”
Pulling away from the curb, he glances at me. “Really? I guess I just assumed. You mentioned your blog. You always look so put-together.”
“Thanks. And thanks for this.” I tear off the sticky paper, covered in fur. “But I’m a big discount shopper. I love finding a good deal or a good dupe.”
“That’s cool. Someone was talking about it in one of my business classes. Blogs as an income source, or at least a good side-hustle. It was interesting. How does it work?”
He’s taking me seriously, encouraging me and not making fun of me. So I continue.
“Most of it is online shopping. But I have a few discount stores in town I frequent, too.”
“Can I take you shopping?” he asks, brows raising hopefully.
“Um, no.” I stare him down. “Guys are usually terrible shopping partners.”
“How do you know that?”
I shrug. “Do you try things on when you shop? Or do you just grab the first thing you can find?”
“I mostly order things online. But it sounds like fun to watch you try on things.”
“I’m not buying lingerie, you pervert.” He busts out laughing, which was my goal. I shift in my seat, warming to the idea. “But how about this. We can go to my favorite thrift store and try on goofy things.”
“Okay. I’ve never been to a thrift store before.”
That’s hard to imagine. I’ve been shopping at thrift stores for as long as I can remember. I run my palm over the buttery soft leather seat and stare at the BMW logo on the glove compartment. Maybe this is a bad idea.
Before I can voice that thought, Hunter reaches over and grabs my hand, lacing our fingers together across the gearshift.
“You can teach me everything you know,” he says, his voice light. “It will be fun.”