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“I changed my mind.” 

“About what? Going home?” Milo glanced over to the passenger seat of his car. Ivy’s now bare feet rested on his dashboard. She still wore her bubblegum pink bridesmaid’s dress, with her hair piled into a messy bun on top of her head, and she’d wiped off most of her smudged mascara using his car mirrors. 

“I’m starving. I think we should get food instead.”

“Food?” Why did he keep repeating everything she said like some sort of deranged parrot? 

“Yes, food.” She spoke slowly like maybe he didn’t understand English. “You know, the stuff people eat when they’re hungry.”

He stole another look at her from the corner of his eye; she still looked grim but he thought maybe he saw a flash of amusement before he had to turn his attention back to the road. “Yes, I’m familiar with the concept.”

“Okay, great! Then let’s go get some. We can stop at the diner on Central. I feel like my current situation calls for pie.”

Milo found himself unable to think of a single reason to disagree. What type of situation didn’t call for pie? He turned onto Central and pulled into the parking lot of The Village Diner, or what was supposed to be The Village Diner. The “D” and the “i” had fallen off the sign and some creative go-getter had added a “B” and an “o”. And so, Milo escorted Ivy into The Village Boner for pie.

The sign inside the door informed them they should seat themselves. They grabbed a booth by the window and slid into the sticky seats. Once ensconced in their booth, Milo was at a loss of what to do next. Other than a few conversations at work, when he awkwardly compared her to 90s singers, he hadn’t had much opportunity to talk with Ivy alone—or at all. 

She was studying the menu, debating about which type of pie to get when the waitress came over with about as much enthusiasm as a root canal patient. 

“What can I getcha?”

“Cherry pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.”

“Just a coffee for me, please.”

“Milo! No! I will not eat pie alone.” She slammed her hands on the table, causing the waitress’s eyes to widen in surprise. “You have to order a slice. Please. It’s important.” She had the audacity to throw in a pouty lip.

The waitress turned back to Milo, an impatient scowl on her face. 

He sighed. “I guess I’ll have a slice of the apple, please.” She snatched the menus away with a curt nod and left to get their pie. Now that Ivy was satisfied with his order, she sat glaring at her phone with one slender finger scrolling endlessly. 

He took the break from her appraising stare to consider how his night had taken a vastly different turn from what he expected when he clocked in at work this afternoon. It was Saturday, and weddings usually went until about nine o’clock, sometimes longer if it was a rowdy crowd. By the time he finished with the clean-up and clocked out, he would want nothing more than to go home, shower, and collapse into bed. From there he would listen to his roommate and his roommate’s girlfriend argue or have sex, depending on the type of night they were having. Occasionally it would be both.

 He looked across the table at Ivy. Eating pie with the woman he’d been secretly into since she started singing at Vito’s was a significant improvement to his weekend.

Ivy put the phone down with an exaggerated sigh and slumped back in the booth. “She hasn’t even texted me.”

“Who?”

“Anna.”

He stared in confusion.

“The bride! My friend who probably hates me now. Remember?”

“Oh right. Well, to be fair, it is her wedding night and all.” He shrugged and Ivy gave another exasperated sigh. 

Some time between bailing on work and landing at this diner the sun had set. Milo looked out the window and saw nothing but headlights and his own reflection. His hair was sort of long and wavy on top, and it was doing that thing where parts of it stood up. He tried to flatten it a bit, but it sprung back up in defiance. He had worn his glasses today, dark frames that he hoped made him look more interesting but probably just made him look like a nerd. Maybe Ivy was into nerdy guys. That was a thing, wasn’t it?

“Did she not even realize I left?” Ivy’s voice cut into his self-inspection. He turned back to her hoping she hadn’t noticed him gazing at himself in the window. 

“I could be dead in a ditch for all she knows, and she hasn’t even checked!” With arms crossed over her chest, she shrank back further in the booth. He was failing at making her feel better. 

“Are you cold?” He unzipped the hoodie he had thrown on over his work clothes and held it across the table for her. She snatched it and slipped her arms inside, pulling the hood up over her head. He tried not to think about how it would smell like her when she gave it back. The black suited her so much better than the pink had.

“Thanks.” She peered at him from inside the hood. “I appreciate you coming with me and everything.” The corner of her mouth lifted in a small smirk. “You’re not getting laid, though. Just to be clear.”

Milo’s mouth opened in shock and then closed again. He must have looked absurd because Ivy laughed. “I didn’t think that… I mean I had no intention…” he sputtered.

“Okay, okay.” She held up her hands in front of her, stopping his ineffectual defense. “I didn’t mean to offend your moral code or anything. But you know, some guys…”

“I’m not like that.”

She quirked an eyebrow and leaned forward. He thought she might say something else, but two plates of pie were unceremoniously dropped in front of them. 

“Enjoy.” The waitress croaked, and Ivy burst out laughing again. 

“Dig in, Milo! I’m buying.”

Featured Image by Hans Vivek via Unsplash