Ice Cream

Chapter Six

SAMIRA

"Good morning, how did you sleep? I'm sure you slept well courtesy of Mr sexy African butter, yeah?" Rose gave me a dreamy look, while waiting for me to get dressed so we could go to work together. I smiled at her, sure I spotted an identical dreamy look on my face. I still couldn't believe I not only talked to Mr Sexy African butter, but he accompanied me home as well and I didn't even flirt with him for that to happen. Oh well, I did flirt with him mentally but didn't have the balls to do so physically. At least I scored a chance to have dinner with him this evening.

"Ooh! She's even blushing, wow!" she commented and I blushed the more. It wasn't everyday one met a very good looking man who agreed to hang out with you. "Come on, tell me what happened and don't leave out any detail." Rose added.

I gave her the full gist, trust me. I filled her in on our conversation and how we agreed to meet this evening for dinner.

"Oh no! Why did you offer to treat him for dinner? How can a poor, miserly woman like you decide to take a fancy looking man to dinner? You could spend your lifetime's savings yet you won't be able to buy him a decent meal." She flicked my head and I groaned by the sheer pain she inflicted. "I can't believe you did this, oh my goodness." she facepalmed, swearing over my apparent stupidity.

"But it all happened in a blur. He offered to go somewhere fancy but I declined and offered my treat instead because I was hoping this would be a different experience for him." I defended my actions, giving the ultimate reason. I was certain he had never been offered to eat somewhere less fancy therefore, my idea sounded great for a change.

"Yes, a terrible idea! È così orribile..." she switched to fluent italian and for five minutes, I was lost. I stared at her until she was done so I could get my English speaking friend back. As a fluent french speaker myself, I could understand a little italian. Keyword is little and it was no where sufficient to understand what Rose spoke at the moment.

"I could go and on but that wouldn't solve anything, would it?" I shook my head in response to her question. "Anyways, what are you wearing for dinner?" She asked and I twirled, showing off my skinny jeans, black tank top and a sleeved shirt that I tied on my waist for fashion and for use when it became chilly in the evening.

"Isn't this what you're wearing to work today?" She looked askance, her gaze threatening to murder me if my answer was positive.

"Um, yes. I figured once he showed up in the evening, we could just leave for dinner together." I murmured, hoping she liked my response.

"Are you kidding me? You're going to wear the same clothes that will be all sweaty and dirty after all of today's work, to dinner with him? I don't think you know who you're going out with." Her expression was that of fatigue. She was getting tired of me. Rose was only thirty years old but I treated her to be older than me because of how experienced she was in so many ways. She was my mother and best friend figure here in Canada.

"Okay, what do you suggest?" I enquired, ready to do what she said if it made sense.

"Let's find something worthy in that crappy wardrobe of yours first." I rolled my eyes at the adjective she used in modifying my wardrobe. It wasn't like hers was any different. I had been to her apartment on occasion and though she tried to clean up the place, it was still one crappy apartment. Instead of making a fuss over her statement, I chose to stay silent and walked side by side into my bedroom in search of what to wear. I sat on the bed and left the whole thing to her. She didn't buy my idea of going out in what I was wearing so she had to go through the stress of searching for something better herself. She surfed through each hanger in my wardrobe, mumbled in distaste until she finally picked out one and tossed it on me.