The Ice-Cream Date

She ordered some coffee and sat down at a table in her hotel room, it was already past five when she had left the conference. But she oddly felt more energetic now than she did in the morning. The scent of the room and the crepuscular scenery from her window were both, salubrious to her.

Her phone rings as she starts working on her laptop. She is indifferent at first, but after a moment’s hesitation, she picks it up.

“You left your pen with me.” The voice at the other end says.

“I lend you one? That’s unlike me.” She said, playing along, relaxing in her seat, her face slowly contorting into a smile.

“I’m happy to be an exception.” He said, in a calm mellifluous voice. She rolled her eyes when he said this, biting her lip. He was relaxing on his bed, with his laptop by his side. And the first thing that he did when he freshened up was call her. She imagined it all, and couldn’t help but feel important. And in thinking that, she felt that somewhere he was important too.

It was impossible for her to get out of the habit of attaching certain thoughts to everything, she was consistent. A part of her wanted to be polite, yet a part of her would always commensurate politeness with something else.

“I would need that back though.” She said, and got up from her seat when she heard that the waiter had brought her coffee.

“You’re at the hotel?” He asked when he heard the bell, sounding curious, as if she could be anywhere else than at the hotel.

“Of course I am, where else would I be?” carrying her coffee with her, she lay down on the bed. She was amused at herself, and shook her head in disbelief. This time, she rolled her eyes at herself.

“I thought you went to the ice cream shop you were telling me about, the one with the longest queue?” He chuckled.

Oh, she thought. She remembered that she did tell him that she wanted to go there, and might go right after the conference. She wondered if he had figured that she implicitly suggested that she wanted him to come with her. But he never said anything about it.

She felt her chest tighten, flushing at her irrational wish to spend her night with this man whom she lend her pen to. Truly an exception as he had realized.

“Did you think that’s why I left early?” She laughed, like it was not a big deal, trying to act cool, like she didn’t want to roam the streets of this strange city with him.

He laughed, running his hands through his hair, and turning on his stomach as he took the phone in his other hand. “No, I was wondering, um, if you want to go now?” He asked, biting his lip.

She smiled, but she was confused. She thought about why he hadn’t responded when she’d told him that she would go. So before she could answer him, she asked him.

“You never asked me. I didn’t want to force myself upon you.” He answered, sitting up on his bed, feeling a light abrasion from this friction, yet, feeling as if he was becoming a part of something.

“That’s right,” she laughed, of course that is why, she thought, “I’m in room number 203, you’ll come?” She asked him, getting up from her bed. She realized that she was still in the same clothes from the conference, an emerald green dress with a jacket. She looked at herself in the mirror as she waited for his answer.

“I’ll be outside of your door when you’re ready.” He said, as he got up from his bed, hastily running his hands through his hair, making a few strands to fall on his forehead.

She heard him rushing, as she said ok. And smiled at the thought of him being eager to meet her, when all this while it seemed as if he was the cool indifferent guy she’d never talk to. She eyed the conference brochure which sat on the side table, and wondered, what were the odds of her meeting all these people, just to feel a connection with one. It was a conditional probability of some sort.

He took his wallet and got out of the room. In his white crumpled shirt and Levi’s, he looked more like a teenage boy than a man of twenty seven.

She didn’t want him to wait, so she got rid of the jacket and washed her face. She put on some lip balm, took her wallet, and got out of the room as well.

“Hey.” He said. He was leaning on the wall opposite to her room, and sprang forwards when he saw her. His green eyes were glinting under the yellow light of the hotel corridor.

“Hey.” She said, smiling broadly at him, but nervous at seeing him outside of work. She felt reckless, and confused, at the sudden eruption of butterflies in her stomach. Not knowing whether it was out of fear, or something else, she thought that maybe he was slightly more than a crush. 

She only just noticed that he had green eyes, and that he oddly smelled like coffee. Like he had drunk enough to keep him awake all night.

He came forwards; his eyes never leaving her face, and then pulled something out of his pocket. She was confused at his sudden movements, and then laughed when she saw what was in his hands.

“Here’s your pen,” she took it from his hand, he smiled, leaning in to say thanks, then he motioned with his other hand, saying “Let’s go on our ice cream date.”

Shocked at his forwardness, she gave him a disapproving look. He shrugged his shoulders, scratching the back of his head, a sheepish grin forming across his face. But it was a date she had definitely said yes to, she thought, and then she smiled to herself.