Important author's disclaimer/note: Elisefey is one of my dear friends and she inspired me to seriously try my hand at writing. My main character Amdrian is based off of a real person, who she also based a character off of in her fabulous POGA stories first. However, our characters and stories are COMPLETELY different :D The only similarity being he looks the same, along with twist of dating an asian pop star.

Kat Always Lands on Her Feet

貓

Chapter 1

There should be a special medical term for the ability of making horrible first impressions on those you greatly admire. It should be something that conveys the disillusionment of long imagined beginnings and their demise in your clumsy and albeit embarrassing interaction. Whoever knows the saying that first impressions are important, can probably relate to the disappointed and unsettled feeling in the pit of your stomach from recalled disasters. This morning was a good illustration of this tragically comical ability. Yet the day had shown such promise…

Sitting in the den, Mary’s dad and I had covered a wide range of topics in the past hour. There is not a day I can remember ever being bored talking to this wonderful man. Today was no exception, having talked about Star Journey, a political cult in the US that had turned into a social group disguised as non-profit organizations, and the different ways someone could be like David in The Bible as “a man after God’s own heart.” Being an architect, professor, and a pastor gives Max a witty repertoire to discuss. As the lover of deep conversations that I am, I had no problems taking full advantage at any opportunity.

Sitting across from Max on the sofa, he exudes a warm fatherly presence with elbows resting on his knees and hands being used to the fullest extent to convey his meanings. His soft curly salt and pepper hair is a little to long as it bounces with his head in exclamation with his different points during our conversation. With the wire-rimmed glasses, khaki pants, and vest over a white button down shirt, Max passes successfully as the loveable professor.

Hearing thumping coming from the roof over our heads, I realize Mary must have run upstairs to freshen up her makeup. While Mary and I had been friends for six years since my junior year of college, it wasn’t until the last couple of years that we’d become close. With a gift of understanding people, she had comforted and encouraged me through a rough couple of years. However, since Mary was an introspective soul, only a few were invited in to share in her deepest of struggles.

This secrecy, however, had also led her to be gifted at keeping secrets of good tidings from friends. Since she had called me over for the very purpose of meeting a “special friend that I should look my best for meeting”, I figured arrival was imminent. As much as I hated to leave my conversation with Max, the curiosity was starting to kill me. Who exactly was this person coming over to take us out to lunch? All she had said was that she had finally met Auntie Rose’s grandson. Since she had starting visiting a Mandarin church, she had been befriended by an elderly woman who soon became like an adopted relative to her. Through Mary sharing stories of Rose, I had heard snippets of her “dear grandson, who means the world to me” with a Chinese name which had no meaning to me. I couldn’t even pronounce it, let alone know what the American version might be. After months of Mary getting to know Rose, the grandson had returned for a week from Taiwan and Rose had met him this past Sunday at church. Now, she was saying I “just had to meet him!” Since no further details were forthcoming except a twinkle in her eyes, I had to bide my time.

“I’m sorry Max, but I think our surprise ‘friend’ might be arriving soon. I need to run and get my sweater from the car in case we go anywhere,” as I offered my apologies and stood up from the couch.

With his normal friendly understanding, Max nodded in agreement “Hmm... Have fun!”

Walking out of the den into the brightly sunlit kitchen, my eyes blinked in adjustment. I paused to adjust my red cotton A-line skirt so that the pleats fell evenly over my knees. With the white cotton baby-t that had a ruffled v-neck collar, I felt a little like I was out of the 50s. Still, with the swing era being my favorite time period and having the curves to go with it, it was a good look on me. I even had the black flats to complete the ensemble and had to admit it was one of my favorite outfits, though reminiscent of Sandra Dee. The long dark blond hair, arduously grown out finally after a bad chin-length shag cut, was at least not in the trademark ponytail. Having learned years ago that long hair can make any fashion look beautiful, I had now resolved to never cut it that short again. So it fell gracefully over my shoulders to mid-back, the shimmering tri-tones of dark to light blond making the color shift from dark honey to soft gold.

Hearing Mary overhead in the bathroom, I decided my makeup could use some touch-up as well. “Where did I put my purse again?” I muttered to myself as I meandered into the adjacent dining room. I spotted my purse on the mahogany dining room table, next to the returned Mandarin TV dramas I’d borrowed from Mary. Over a year ago, in an innocent craziness out of boredom, I’d gotten hooked through her on these shows. My first and forever favorite Asian show, Promise Bay, I had watched during part of a rough season in my life. Having gone through a terrible emotional struggle dealing with fear and rejection, the show’s portrayal of real love had helped my heart to start the healing process.

I started digging through my little black purse. Since I’m not a huge fan of the piled on makeup look in order to appear “natural”, my hands only reached for the powder compact to eliminate any shine on my face. Safely covering up the oily glow that had started, I inspected my makeup and found the light eye-shadow and liner in place, with no mascara smudges. Since lipsticks tend to taste bad and wear off faster than sunscreen on a hot day, I only applied some raspberry flavored lip-gloss. Running my brush quickly through my hair, I then threw it back in the purse and grabbed my keys.

Sliding my purse over my shoulder, I yelled “I’ll be right back!” as I crossed through the living room and to the front door. Hearing no reply, I shrugged and opened the front door. Noticing a car in the downward sloping front driveway, I quickly was distracted by my phone going off to a popular music tune. Walking towards my car parked on the street, I started to pass the black Sabre with the open truck. Just as I got to the tail end of the car, I exclaimed “Ah ha!” as my fingers located the ringing nuisance.

Only a little too late did I mentally digest the fact of seeing crouched knees by the car out of the corner of my right eye while digging through my purse. Also, the delayed reaction of seeing them rise and materialize into a boy right in front of me. Walking full force, with no chance of recovery or delay of impact, my body slammed into his while the “Ah ha” escaped only milliseconds before on my lips.

Limbs colliding, fumbling for orientation, gravity and force won out as we tumbled together onto the ground. Flying from my hands, I saw my purse and phone go opposite directions. With surprising agility, I felt him instinctively fall backwards to cushion the blow, with his hands out to break the impact. Had it only been a solitary impact, he probably would have come out completely unscathed except for a bruised ego. Unfortunately, as my downward momentum could not be stopped, I squealed and flailed without doing much good. My body landing on his, I felt my right knee smack his left shin, my hands collide on his stomach, and my face land in the crevice of his neck and shoulder. I heard the sound of air rushing out of both of our lungs, as we grunted from the fall. Gasping for air, we both lay there for a moment, stunned in disorientation. My head rising from his neck, which oddly enough I recognized smelled like “Aqua Di Gio”, I blinked rapidly to try and force my brain to compose itself.

“I am so sorry!” I exclaimed as I started to place my hands on either side of his torso in attempt to right myself. His head started to move from being angled to the side, obviously having rolled there probably from the pain of me landing on him. While he looked to be a good 30 pounds more of muscle, he seemed close to my height where the damage had to be felt. Carefully placing my feet in between his legs and attempting to start the rise to my feet, I got the first look at my victim.

His thick hair, dark brown with chestnut highlights, fell softly to the side exposing his face. With a round face and strong chin, I could tell he was Asian. Being a white American girl who’s sadly ignorant at telling Asian races apart, I couldn’t quite place more than that. Suddenly the full lips, though currently pursed in pain, elegant nose, and warm brown eyes registered in my memory databank. “Oh no,” I thought in rapid denial, as my eyes scanned over the well-known curves of his face.

Quickly turning from embarrassing pain to alarming panic, I frantically hasten standing up. Meeting my face, I hear him say “Its ok,” in the familiar Elvis-accented English and then see his eyes open wide as he exclaims “watch out!” The warning comes too late as my rapid ascent results in the back of my head slamming into the edge of the open trunk. The searing pain with brutal impact of metal forces stars to appear in my vision as my eyes close.

“Ow! I’m seeing stars,” I manage to say while the world starts to get dark. I feel his arms reaching out to steady me as he managed to jump up during my impact. Hearing his concern in a far off sound, I vaguely realize he’s asking if I’m ok. With the last bit of consciousness, I manage to say “Oh, the irony. Stars. She’s going to pay for this”. The whisper of his concerned chuckle turning into a yell for help is the last thing I hear as I pass out.