Ice To Meet You

Let's get fizzical

I climb in and the interior smells like costly leather had a love child with vanilla cookies. The entire car is orange from inside and it is everything I was not expecting from Kent's car. The other car I sat in when I was in State College was a boring black everything. Kent starts the engine and watching him change gear is just so sexy.

"Why are you here?" Drunk Mia asks him. I am almost glad she does because why would a guy like him want to get ice cream with a girl like me? I just don't understand it.

"What do you mean?" He asks, looking ahead at the road. I wish he wasn't wearing sunglasses so I could see his eyes.

"Why are you so nice to me? I am just a normal girl," drunk Mia says, and I can't help but agree. I am an average girl straight out of college lost in this world, and he is all Mr. perfect. This is not even about having low self-esteem, it's about common sense.

"What's wrong with being a normal girl?"

"Why don't you ever answer my questions? It's so annoying." Drunk Mia let's out a loud breath at the end of her sentence, adding a dramatic ending that emphasizes infuriation. Can a girl not get answers around here? She does have a point.

"You're cute," he says as a matter of fact but cute means fat. Does he think I am fat?

"Is that why you're getting ice-cream with me?" she asks him graciously. Until right now, I thought she only knew how to be a bitch.

"Do you like liquor infused ice-cream?" he asks, ignoring my question again.

"Just answer me goddammit!" Drunk Mia barks and both me and inner bitch place our hands on top of our ears. She sounds like a cat on heat when she's this mad. Sober Mia or rather me is never this angry or at least never expresses it verbally. I might break a glass by mistake or punch a wall, but I am unlikely to ever say anything about it.

"You're honest and horribly straightforward. Usually, I would hate that but you're also well-read and considerately smart, and you have opinions that you're not intimidated to express. Is that good enough for you?" he asks, looking right at me, disregarding the road ahead of us. If I was in my make-believe world, this is where the car would crash, and we both would die. I always expect something bad to follow up with something so good but he returned his attention to the car and I can finally breathe. Thank god, he was wearing glasses or I would forget my own name.

I am straight-up, that is my only saving grace in life. Also, my biggest downfall.

"Thank you for saying all that," I reply because it felt like I was obligated to say something after that. Also, I truly meant it.

"Do you like liquor infused ice-cream?" He asks, not looking at me. I don't mind it anymore; he thinks I am considerately smart and well read. I smile to myself, basking in the glory of my awesomeness. I am totally feeling myself. I want to play Beyoncé in the background and do a little dance.

Kent's fingers thumping on the steering wheel bring me back to reality. Why is he impatient? Oh right, crap!

"What kind of liquor are we talking about?" I ask, trying to salvage the moment. The problem is I know nothing about wines at all.

"They have tequila, rum, whiskey, and quite a few wine ice creams actually," he answers, his voice laced with a hint of something I can't put my finger on. Nostalgia? Now I have to investigate. Taking her magnifying glass out of her detective kit and putting on her prescription glasses, bitch Mia is ready to collect some receipts.

"Where is this place?" Drunk Mia and bitch Mia are communicating, either the champagne is wearing off, or I am totally out of the loop. Never thought I would be the fly on the wall in my own life but that is exactly how I am feeling right now.