"I meant that I have the job of the sex and relationship writer but I don't have any juicy stories about myself to write. Would you tell me your stories that I can write about?"
"Do you know who I am Mia?"
"Yeah – but that doesn't matter. I won't use your name."
"Then why specifically my stories?" How do I explain to him that he is a legend without boosting his already overwhelmingly whopping ego?
"Because I've heard crazy stories about you. Stories that can be turned into entertaining content." Stories I am dying to know further, in explicit detail.
His phone buzzes and he picks it up.
"Wilson bring it to the door towards the left... Yup, I see ya. Just pull over." Maybe his friends are coming over. We are at a party and I really should not keep him away from it for this long. For a minute, I almost forgot how significant and prominent he is. If he is this Forbes 30 under 30 multi-millionaire prodigy, why is he at a Penn State fraternity party? How low are his standards? If I was half this wealthy, I would be living it up in New York and not coming back to my college town.
A man, roughly in his 30s, dressed in a grey suit is walking towards us. Definitely his friend, who is grossly overdressed for a frat party. Scratch that, he is overdressed for this small town in Pennsylvania. I can't help myself from laughing out loud. I don't know why but this professional man drinking beer from a keg stand is hilarious to me.
He hands Kent a bag. Wait, what? It is a bag from Gumby's. The oiliest, nastiest, cheapest yet the most delicious fast food place in State College. The Pokey Sticks, essentially a hybrid between garlic bread and pizza with garlic butter base and cheese on top is a classic from that place.
It is the only food available in the middle of the night. Smashed people live for it, and William Kent is going to eat it in front of me, have I died and gone to heaven? They could commercialize this moment.
"You like Pokey Sticks?" I ask, failing to hide my disbelief and horror. I am a health nut and even I think they were so worth the calories.
"I think they are horrible for you but at this time of the night they were the only option available."
"Don't you have a sous chef traveling with you at all times?" I ask seriously.
He is chuckling and I have no idea why.
"No Mia, I don't have a private chef traveling with me. I only have a housekeeper back home who cooks for me." Oh.
He takes out the pokey sticks and McDonalds 24-piece chicken nuggets. He offers me the nuggets and I decline.
"You don't eat meat? I have some fries in there too." Who is he? And why is he feeding me food in the middle of the street, well almost, we are outside Alpha Delta Alpha.
"No, I am good. Thank you very much. Do you want me to hold something for you?" Looking at him struggling to open the sauce, he needs help.
"You haven't had dinner. I got all this food so you can eat." He says and I can't help but smile. That is one of the sweetest things you can ever say to me. I pick up a chicken nugget and take a bite. I had forgotten how good they taste.
"Chicken nuggets are so underrated," I say while relishing it. He offers me another one and I decline.
"You've just had one," he remarks, not pleased with me at all.
"Who was the guy in the grey suit?"
"My chauffer," oh, so casual. He offers me fries this time and gives me a look; I take one. He is so insistent and domineering.
YOU ARE READING
Ice To Meet You
Romance"What else do you want me to say, Mia?" "Did you mean it?" There is a pause and I just-I feel exhausted, the kind that 12 hours of sleep hasn't been able to fix. "Hannah said I don't deserve to be loved, is that how you feel too?" She might not ha...
