Catherine's POV,
"What do you think?"
"For the nth time, Catherine, Luis Lavander, that dress looks spectacular on you." Alorra, being Alorra, threw me the pillow she was holding and rolled her eyes at me.
I played with my earrings while looking at myself in front of this full-length mirror. We're at my condo, and I forced her to come help me get ready. Worst decision ever.
She's sprawled on my couch like it's hers. Scrolling on her phone. Not even looking at me.
Meanwhile, I'm on my tenth outfit change. Maybe more. Who cares.
I tugged at the hem of the dress. "It feels too much," I muttered.
"Too much?" Alorra finally looked up, eyebrows raised. "Catherine, you could walk into a funeral in that dress and people would still clap."
I glared at her through the mirror. She didn't even flinch.
I turned sideways. Fixed my hair. My chest is pounding for no reason.
Why am I nervous? It's just dinner. Just one night. That's it.
But then her face flashed in my mind. That smirk. That annoying grin.
God.
I shook my head. No. Stop. This is stupid.
Alorra sat up, tossing her phone aside. Her eyes narrowed like she could read my mind.
"You're not nervous about the dress."
I froze.
"You're nervous about her."
My throat dried instantly.
Alorra smirked. Crossed her arms. "Thought so."
"I just don't understand. I hate her. I hate everything about her. I couldn't even stand being in the same room as her. I-"
"I think you like her," I glared at Alorra. "What?" She innocently said. "I mean, look, she can make your heart race, make you crazy, make you say yes, and don't even get me started with this dinner. This is not you, Catherine. Do you want me to remind you how you rejected tons of lawyers and doctors in front of a crowd? And yet, she managed to get a date. FROM YOU," She said, pointing her fingers at me like I'm some criminal.
"Maybe I just want her to stop bothering me?" I forced myself to smile.
"Are you crazy?" She rolled her eyes. "You know what you can do to make people stop annoying you. You literally filed for a restraining order from that jerk barista."
I buried my face in my hands. "This is different."
"Different?" Alorra shot up from the couch. "Catherine Luis Lavander actually admitting something is different? Wow. Someone call the press."
I threw a pillow at her. She caught it, laughing like an idiot.
"I don't like her," I muttered.
"Sure you don't," she smirked, hugging the pillow like it's hers. "That's why you're wearing a dress that costs more than my whole existence, fixing your hair like you're getting married, and asking me ten times if you look okay."
I clenched my jaw. My reflection in the mirror was laughing at me. Cheeks red. Lips trembling.
Alorra tilted her head. "You're scared."
I froze.
"Scared because for once… someone got under your skin."
I forced a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous."
But deep down? She's right. And I hate it.
"Cathy." Her voice softened. "Be careful."
I turned to her, confused. "What?"
Alorra leaned forward, elbows on her knees. "I've known you all my life. You don't let people in. Ever. And now you're… this." She gestured at me, at the dress, at my whole mess of a self. "Don't fall too hard. Not for someone who might not catch you."
Her words stung more than I wanted to admit.
"I know, Ara."
"Feel yourself. You didn't build your walls just for someone to barge in and destroy them." She hugged me.
We talked for a bit before she bid her goodbye because someone's gonna pick her up tonight. And that? I don't even know who would pick her up. She won't tell me.
=
"You look fantastic." I didn't flinch, didn't make eye contact, didn't say anything.
She was not late; she's in fact early. She's wearing a casual blue shirt tucked in with her white slacks. She looks good- amazing.
"I hope you like Italian food." She said, showing me her charming smile.
"Stop looking at me and drive," I wanted to slap myself for being rude. Is that too much? I should've said thank you for her compliments, right?
Damn you, Catherine. Why are you suddenly being soft?
The smell of pasta and garlic butter filled the air. Candles on every table. Too dim. Too romantic.
Of course, she picked an Italian restaurant.
She pulled the chair out for me. I stared at it. At her. "Seriously?"
She smirked. "Just sit, Catherine."
I sat down, crossing my legs, trying not to look impressed. She sat across from me, relaxed. Like she owned the place. Like she owned me.
Menus on the table. I didn't touch mine.
"You should try the ravioli here," she said.
I raised my brow. "You already know the menu?"
"I told you. I like this place." She shrugged, sipping her water, eyes never leaving me.
I shifted. Reached for my glass. Anything to escape that stare.
"Stop looking at me," I muttered.
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. That damn grin again. "Can't."
My stomach twisted. My chest tightened.
Why does she always have to win?
"So," I caught her attention. "How many ladies have you brought here?" I smirked when I saw her shift her position uncomfortably.
"Only you," I looked at her, not believing every word she was saying. "You know what I like about this place." She stood up suddenly and walked towards me. Offering me her. I looked around, and people were just minding their own business.
"What are you doing?" I whispered, feeling embarrassed. She just smiled and took my hand, making me stand up. "I like their live music."
She began to slowly take me in the middle of the restaurant. I saw people doing the same thing.
Is this even a restaurant?
She began to sway her body, guiding me through her every move. My body started to react. It followed her own rhythm.
I was just looking at her. Memorizing every feature of her face. Understanding every edge of her face.
Last thing I knew, her lips were pushed against mine.
"Elai-"
She looked shocked. Genuinely shocked. Like she didn't expect it to happen.
"Catherine-"
I walked out. Run as fast as I can. Didn't look back.
I called a cab and immediately went inside.
I saw her.
Trying to catch the cab, but it was too late. I was already away.
That was...
That was my first.
To Be Continued...