My parents loved entertaining. While most families built pools in their backyard for the summer months, my parents built a deck in the backyard to entertain guests instead. It had small round incandescent bulbs strategically placed along the banister and strung around the overhanging trees to illuminate the space. There was a large outdoor turquoise couch where everyone sat and conversed, and dad's grill sat in the corner.

I could tell my mother missed Lorraine. As soon as she showed up, her whole face lit up and they hadn't stopped talking since. My father whom was also a friend of Lorraine's didn't hide his happiness either. Lorraine brought a bottle of white wine, which was opened immediately.

Preferring to stick to my favorite red, I turned it down but joined them in conversation on the turquoise couch.

They laughed and joked for what seemed like hours about each family, work, interests, and politics. I always enjoyed watching my parents talk to their friends as if no amount of time had passed and they were just picking up where they left off when they last saw each other.

Now that Damien would get married–if that happened–would that be how our lives would be like? Would we go years without seeing each other and just catch up every once in a while, like the old friends we were? Would we stop talking all together?

It wasn't like I was actively not making friends. I preferred to keep to myself most of the time, and, even in the first couple of years of college, I made friends. We hung out once or twice, but didn't keep contact once we weren't in the same classes anymore.

I swallowed, feeling the familiar lump in my throat right before I started to cry.

I was being silly. He was fully able to move on with his life if he so chose to–it wasn't his fault he was my only friend.

Still, the thought of being alone was starting to nag at me. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. No, finish college first. With college behind me, I could go to the city and start a new life.

It was like mom said. I always saw my life as starting after I graduated high school then after I graduated college when I would finally move away from my childhood town–nothing until then mattered.

It wasn't a good way to live. But having small finish lines was what would get me through the day sometimes.

"Emmy?"

I looked up to Lorraine who was calling me. She stood in front of me, her salt and pepper hair tightly wound in a bun on top of her head. Her gold earrings swayed in the small gentle breeze.

Her lavender pantsuit showed she was in an important position at the company she worked at where she had just come from before dinner.

She had a smile on from ear to ear and she attentively put her hands on a younger man's shoulders.

It must have been Chris. How did I miss him coming in?

He was also in a dress shirt and pants, it looked like he left the jacket in the car before coming in. They were blue pants that worked well with the gray shirt he wore. He had gold stubble along his square jaw and gold messy hair.

I stood and smiled, shaking his extended hand. "You're Chris."

He nodded and smiled, showing his teeth. I noticed one of them was slightly crooked. "It's nice to meet you."

I noticed Lorraine slowly backing away behind him. "Would you like a glass of wine?"

Sticking his hands in his pockets, he shrugged. "Sure, what do you have?"

He was a nice guy and a great conversationalist; he made jokes, talked about his work and was genuinely interested in what I had to say.

He started petting Woof when he came around and even let him sit on his lap as we spoke. We both had similar tastes in music; though, he preferred more electronica than I did. Eventually, we made it off the deck and walked near the edge of the woods behind the house talking about everything we experienced in high school.

As it turned out, we went to the same school just not at the same time since he was five years older than me.

We didn't go too far. It was still close enough where the lights from the backyard could still let us see. Three feet further and we would be encased in the darkness of the woods.

It was during that conversation that Cat showed up.

Cat was the black stray cat that hung out in the woods behind my house.

"Who's this guy?" He crouched down making kissing sounds towards him.

I laughed. "I wouldn't, he won't come when he's called."

"Is he yours?" he asked straightening up.

I shook my head. "Nah, he just showed up one day in the backyard a couple of months ago. I named him Cat, yes I know, real original."

He genuinely laughed, the smile reaching his brown eyes. "It's original enough." He reached for my empty wine glass. "Here, let me hold that for you."

I obliged. "Thanks. Yeah–so, I've tried catching him, he won't come. But he looks fed. He's not skinny, doesn't look like he's sick. He just shows up every once in a while, only shows up when he wants. Everything is on his terms."

He shrugged. "Well, at least he's friendly?"

I smiled back. "Yeah, typical Cat."

Chris looked at his watch. "Look, I'm sorry to do this to you but I have to get going."

"Oh, that's fine. Let me walk you out." I started to follow him up to the deck on the wood stairs. As soon as we reached the deck, I noticed that everyone had already gone inside and, when I peered through the large windows, were talking by the bar in the kitchen.

I checked the time on my phone. "Wow," I breathed. "It's late."

He turned to look at me, then back to the door, then back at me. It was like he was struggling to make a decision.

I laughed. "Everything okay?"

He finally turned fully towards me. "Do you think that maybe we could do this again? I'll give you my number."

I looked at him incredulously, unable to believe what he was saying. "Really?"

He laughed. "Is it so hard to believe that someone wants to hang out with you?"

"Yes," I answered truthfully.

He laughed. "God, you're blunt."

I laughed at his comment. "Something wrong with that?"

He shook his head. "No, no. I just don't meet many women that are that honest. Look, how about this–let's go for coffee tomorrow, or the next time you're in the city, why don't you call me? The ball is totally in your court. I won't push you into something you're uncomfortable with." He put his hand out, palm up. "I'll put my number in your phone for you."

I looked at his hand as if it were a tentacle. After a couple of seconds, I found my voice again. "Is this a joke?"

He looked at me, puzzled–almost hurt. "No. I wouldn't joke like that. I won't ghost you either."

Panicking, I asked. "Are you really asking me out?"

He shook his head. "You don't do this very often, do you?" When I didn't answer, he continued. "Look, I just want to be your friend. You're pretty cool, Emmy. I just want to hang out with you while I'm still in town. If it's more than that, then I guess we'll see." He laughed almost as if to himself. "Look, there's a reason our mothers brought us together. It was to see if we could hit it off, why don't we see where it gets us?"

My breath caught. I'd never been in a situation like this before. I'd always been treated like a leper almost my entire life. I'd had very few friends and even less romantic interests.

I was a social outcast, never fully able to talk or relate to people.

Flabbergasted, I handed him my phone.

He took it and entered his number, showing me the screen as he did so the entire time. He handed it back to me with a smile. "I hope to hear from you soon, Emylin."

He smiled one last time then disappeared through the house, waving to my parents and his mother as he left through the front door.

I stared after him. Never as long as I could remember did something like that happen to me. People usually avoided me and men surely did not just give me their numbers. I looked at my phone as if it were some alien device.

I saw movement in the corner of my eye and turned to it.

Cat stalked towards me on the banister, walking decisively forward. He again looked like he was judging me with his hazel eyes. As soon as he reached me, he looked at me with a look that I could only describe as him asking me what I was going to do with Chris's number.

Between Damien's cold shoulder earlier and Chris' sudden warm demeanor, I only had one conclusion.

"Cat," I said astonished. "Men are weird."