Ice To Meet You

Oh, Balls! He has a she

Every time I am at a party, all I think about are all the reasons I should have stayed in. As we walk in, William is in front of me, still holding my hand and I don't feel much better. I want to turn around, run away and never look back but I also want to spend more time with William. Being crazy is hard.

The cherry blossoms are tastefully covering the walls and the house is suspiciously vacant, although I can hear soft jazz music playing in the background coming from somewhere. At least I think it is jazz. We walk into the well-lit lobby with white leather couches, white tables, and white walls. The sitting area looks clinical, unused and cold. No personal pictures or even a sentimental vase is in sight. 

As we walk further, the music is getting louder and now I see a backyard brimming with people. There is a huge rectangular table with about thirty chairs on each side in the middle of the lawn and people are either sitting near the table or talking around it. 

Cherry blossoms are everywhere, on the edges of the chairs, on the sides of the table and on top of the table forming a shed. There are even garlands all around the yard with Christmas lights making the moment any avid Instagram's biggest envy. A waiter walks toward us and is holding a tray of peach, pink and purple macaroons topped with raspberries and blueberries. They look so appealing that I want to take out my phone and snap a picture. It is so fancy-schmancy that I am afraid to mess the arrangement up by picking one out. 

"I am good, thank you," I say and politely smile at the server.

Will's shoulder stiffens and he looks at me. His razor-sharp eyes slicing my last strand of self-control. 

"Mia," he sighs tenderly, his voice making my inside feel the way chocolate does when it is put on a sizzling pan.

"What's up?" I respond, overcompensating with my absolutely casual voice. I am not out of place or uncomfortable at all.

"Don't you think you should eat something?" he entreats and I am melting. His voice is sensual or am I finding it extra sexy right now because he is concerned about me? Whatever the reason, it's hot. I don't want him to ever stop speaking.

"I am not in the mood for something sweet," I lie. I am craving those macaroons and I am always in the mood for everything overly sugary, that's the problem. I don't want to become obese again. I have to watch what I eat, very carefully.

"Fair enough, we can fix you a plate, and it will hopefully have food you'll approve of," he says thoughtfully. All the rumors I have heard about him are absolute utter lies. He is a perfect gentleman, not the coldhearted spawn of Satan existing on this planet to torment women. People were wrong about him. I see a fashionable woman in her mid-fifties walking towards us, grey curls bouncing on her dusty pink coat. She is wearing cat-eye glasses and a wide smile that is creeping me out. Do I know her? I find people who smile gleefully towards me alarming.

William drops my hands from his and wraps his arms around the overfriendly lady. The warmth between them is conspicuous and I take a moment to observe the woman that I am pretty sure is his mother.

She is shorter than William but she has the same intense blue eyes and bushy eyebrows as him. Her lips are thin and still beaming with happiness whereas his are pouty and full.

"Liam this is outstanding. I love it! Thank you for such an amazing everything..." The lady's voice is getting thick and Will brushes the tears away from her eyes before they fall on her cheeks. He kisses the top of her head and she kisses his cheeks, this family is demonstrative and affectionate. It's refreshing.