2 - Meeting My Prince Charming

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2 - Meeting My Prince Charming 

I remember the day I met Brent like it was yesterday, though it has almost been two years. I was fifteen, just starting my sophomore year at St. Brigid's High School in Chicago. Every morning I got up and took the L-train five stops to downtown where I swung by a Starbucks before school to have breakfast—a mocha and a muffin. Every day the same routine.

One rainy, late September morning, the clouds were thick and heavy, no chance of any sunshine at all. I have always despised that type of weather. Though my skin burns the minute I'm blessed with any ultraviolet beams, I enjoy the warmth and comfort of the sun. My favorites are those winter days with no clouds in the sky, with air so crisp it tingles when I suck in a breath. Add the prickle under my scalp from the chilling air and the weather couldn't get better.

Darting along Michigan Avenue as soon as I stepped off the L-train, I was soaked by the time I entered the coffee shop. A stuffy wall of too many people packed is too small of a space signaled that the usual early morning crowd was buzzing around. I shook my head like a poodle, trying to get the raindrops out of my locks and save at least some of my hairdo, when a snicker in front of me drew heat into my cheeks.

I gazed up from under my eyelashes, ready to scold whoever dared to make fun of me.

The culprit beat me to it. "Maybe try an umbrella next time."

The guy was kind of cute, though in no way what I would have described as outright gorgeous. A couple of inches taller than myself, his chestnut brown hair was unruly and a two-day stubble covered the lower part of his face. Maybe he thought his appearance was cool, but I found it a little scruffy. His nice body made up for it; he was very athletic, with admirable muscles. I suspected he worked out a lot.

Tempted to put him in his place for mocking me, I pouted with attitude. "Well, sir, if you knew anything about Chicago, you'd know that it's also nicknamed the Windy City. You don't get far here with an umbrella."

His sensual lips curved up in this half teasing, half flirtatious smile.

"Sir? That's something you'd call my father. Do I look that old to you?"

"Ancient."

Amusement snuck into his eyes. Cloudy gray with specks of different colors, they pulled me into a mysterious world I wanted to explore. I would later learn that they changed according to the mood he was in. On that day, he was in exceptionally good spirits.

"I just moved here a few months ago and go to DePaul. Since I'm obviously clueless about this town, maybe you could become my tour guide and give me a crash course on its customs."

"Well, rule number one, you don't make fun of girls in coffee shops."

"Even cute ones you're trying to get to know?" His gaze was intense with eyes that had turned two shades darker into a smoky, grayish blue—his seductive look.

More heat burned in my cheeks. Though I felt flattered that he seemed interested in me, I tried to fight the temptation to take this any further. He looked about eighteen and fell outside the parameters of dateable guys. My father would never allow me to go out with someone in college. According to him, they all wanted sex, though he failed to realize that this was also on the minds of most fifteen-year olds.

When his continued smile warmed me up on the inside, I drowned the little voice of caution. "What's your major?"

"Psychology. I'm a freshman and only look old. I'm actually just seventeen."

I twitched under his burning eyes. "And you're already in college?"

"I guess I'm just smart."

Though he threw it out with a little chuckle, it didn't sit well with me. I hated conceited guys. "Well, I've to get to school."

Turning away, I was just about to take the first step toward the counter when he grabbed my wrist. "Wait. I didn't mean to come across as arrogant." A small smile curled his lips, bringing out little, boyish dimples in his cheeks. "Please don't blame me for trying to impress a beautiful girl. I'm Brent, by the way."

My cheeks burned like crazy, I was probably redder than a ripe strawberry. "Well, I'm not really into someone who is full of themselves."

"I realize that." His smiled turned crooked. "How about dinner tonight? That will give you a chance to get to know me and decide whether you want the tour guide job."

"I don't know."

"Then at least tell me your name."

No harm in that. "Rena."

"It's nice to meet you."

He extended his hand and I shuck it, even though it was a bit silly.

His lips twisted to a desperate frown. It made him look even cuter. "Please, Rena, just give me one chance to get to know you."

I was stunned by his persistence. He made me feel special, like it was an honor to be with me. But there was still the small problem with my dad. "I don't think that would be a good idea. My father would never allow me to go out with a college guy. Plus it's a school night."

He shrugged. "Hey, your dad doesn't need to know."

Expecting me to go behind my father's back knocked him down by a few more notches. "My father is a cop. Trust me, he'll know."

"Maybe I could introduce myself and show him that I'm actually a nice guy. My father works for the FBI. That might be an added bonus."

I never had anyone who had been so eager to take me out on a date and I was absolutely smitten. "Okay. But I have to be home by ten. And only if my dad agrees."

"Perfect. How does six o'clock sound?"

That would give me enough time to prepare my father for his visit. He got off work at five. I nodded. When he handed me a napkin to write down my address, I hesitated. Social media always warned to give strangers any type of personal details, but then again, he looked harmless. Besides, if he turned into some creep, my father would have him arrested.

"Don't be late," I warned when I handed him the napkin. "My dad likes punctuality. And shave."

"Don't worry." He actually kissed my hand. "Your father will be dazzled."

I watched how he strolled away, my heart tripping over itself. Hopefully, my dad will say yes.

~~~~

Up to this day, I still have no clue how he managed to get by my father. He arrived five minutes early with a bouquet of roses for me and beamed at my dad when he shook his hand. My dad was more than skeptical—to say the least—but after thirty minutes of talking in private, he was hooked. It was the type of effect Brent had on most people. No one could ever resist his charms.

My father called me into the living room with a big smile. "Well, Rena, I have to admit, I was very reluctant when you told me about your friend, but Brent has convinced me that his intentions are nothing but honorable. He swore to me that he will drop you off at ten and there will be nothing but dinner."

"Dad!" I blushed, horrified that he could even imply there could be anything else on a first date.

"You kids have fun now." He gave me a peck on the forehead, which I despised even more. Why did he always act to embarrassing in front of my friends?

Brent was graced with another fond smile and we were off. My date was a gentleman through and through, helping me with my coat and opening the door for me. The guys I dated before had been boys, boisterously clueless on how to treat a girl. He, on the other hand, was already a man—despite his age. I never questioned why he grew up so quickly.

He took me to Coco Piazzo, one of the best Italian restaurants in town. The tables were small with an authentic starched table cloth and exquisite china, crystal glasses, and a dripping candle in the middle. Though we weren't struggling financially since my dad worked a lot of overtime, paying for my private school was expensive and when we went out, it would only be for pizza at the Olive Garden. Coco Piazzo was a real classy place and totally romantic. I felt like a princess in a fairy tale, being courted by my prince charming.

We followed the hostess through the restaurant to our table and Brent even pulled the chair in for me. Studying the menu, I had a small heart attack—everything was overpriced. They wanted thirty-three dollars for a fricking pizza.

He must have noticed my frown. "You know, money isn't an issue. You can order whatever you like."

I beamed at him, unsure whether to be flattered or embarrassed. How could he even afford this? "I think I'm having the grilled artichoke as a starter." It was the cheapest dish on the whole menu.

The smile I received in response was amazing and butterflies started to zoom around in my stomach, creating a brand-new cheerleading routine for Brent. His gaze was intense with eyes that reminded me of a deep ocean. They swallowed me up in one go. As little shockwaves tingled down my spine, I couldn't help but grin from ear to ear.

The appetizer was as incredible as his smile. The artichoke was grilled in a creamy sauce which perfectly blended with just a hint of garlic. After I devoured every bite, I conceded I was halfway full. He offered to share the linguini alle vongole with me, even though he had originally planned on ordering the porterhouse steak.

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"Not at all, Rena." He pulled my hand to his lips, his grazed kiss setting off an explosion around the butterflies. "I'm just so happy you agreed to go out with me. I'm having such a great time."

Heat crawled back into my cheeks—I was astonished that he was enjoying my company so much. To hide my nerviness, I began to chatter away, telling him about my favorite music and authors. He listened, a small smile frozen on his lips, while his eyes never once faltered from my face.

After I rattled down a whole list of my favorite books, his eyebrows rose. "You read all of them? That's quite impressive, though I could tell from the start how smart you are."

I relished that he was soaking up everything I said. "I also love art books. Have you ever drawn with water colors? It's really cool."

A fond glow spread in his eyes and made my heart beat twice as fast. "Who is your favorite artist?"

That was a no brainer. "Monet." I took a sip from my water. "How about you? Do you like art?"

"Not really. When I was little, my mom used to take me to a museum once in a while but honestly, I don't know much about it. It's really great how you have hobbies."

I was just about to ask him what he liked to do when the main dish arrived. We dug in and somehow, he managed to keep the conversation focused on me. So far, he had told me only about the basics—he was from Virginia, his father was working for the Behavioral Analysis Unit in Quantico as a profiler, and his mother was a stay-at-home mom.

"So did your father spend a lot of time with you growing up?" I asked in between bites. "My dad has always worked a lot and I know it can be hard for parents in law enforcement."

A brief shadow crossed his eyes, but it was so quickly gone again, I could have been mistaken. "My childhood was absolutely ordinary." For a second, he dropped his gaze. "Nothing at all to report."

His response was a little unusual, but I was so distracted when he pulled my hand back to his lips that I dropped it.

"Did I tell you yet that you look absolutely beautiful?" he said.

It was my turn to lower my gaze as warmth spread across my face and down my neck. "You did."

His thumb drew little circles onto my palm. "Well, I'm really lucky to have met you."

I was convinced I had hit the jackpot. Brent was everything I had ever dreamed of in a guy.

For the rest of the meal he listened, gazing at me from time to time with those intense eyes that turned every part of me into a wobbly mess. Not once did he seem bored. He was actually interested in me—the real me—and not the artificial girl I played in front of my friends. That night, I wanted nothing more than to become his girlfriend.

For dessert, he ordered the caramel tart with two forks. I snickered when he began to feed me little bites, trying to snap at his finger which made him chuckle. When I was stuffed to the brim, he ate the rest.

By the time we were finished, I noticed to my horror that it was already past nine thirty. Where had the time gone? "Oh my god, Brent, I'm gonna miss my curfew."

"Don't worry, I'll take care of it." He stroked my hand which took the edge right off.

As he paid the check, he called my dad, forewarning him we would be ten minutes late. That act alone caused him more plus points—my father thought this was so responsible of him.

In the cab, we exchanged phone numbers and he programmed mine right into his cell. When we got to my house, he walked me to the door.

"I had a wonderful time tonight, Rena, and would really like to see you again."

"Yeah, me too." By now, the butterflies had formed a band and were giving a rock concert.

"So are you accepting the job?" he teased. "As tour guide, I mean."

"I'd love to."

He bit his lip, his eyes holding a smoldering fire. "Well, how about Friday? You could show me the best movie theater."

"Sounds like a plan."

"Anything particular you would like to watch?"

"They have a special showing of the Hunger Games where you can win a trip to Orlando." My smile was rather crooked—I didn't want to come across as pushy. "If that's okay with you."

He grinned. "Hunger Games it is." Bending forward, he pecked me on the cheek. "Good night, Rena."

"Good night, Brent."

I practically floated to my room. My dad had put the roses onto my desk and the scent in my room was amazing. This was maybe the best day of my life so far and the date was stuck on replay in my mind. Brent's lips burned softly on my cheek and I didn't wash myself that night despite the makeup.

Before sleep claimed me, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Brent.

'Sweet dreams, my Rena. Can't wait until Friday.'

There was no doubt Brent was the right guy for me.

OK, Rena met Brent. What did you think about their first encounter? Would he have swept you off your feet, too? Anything odd you noticed about his behavior?

The story will jump back and forth between the present (the jail) and the past so let me know how this approach is working for you.

I would really like to hear from you so please leave comments. A quick vote with the little star in the corner would make my day if you felt the chapter deserved it. Thanks for reading.

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