Page 58 of Ice Ice Maybe
Me:Maybe your grandma knew about your parents’ tendencies to be spontaneous outside of their home, if you know what I mean.
Zena:Don’t remind me! I’m trying to bleach that image from my brain. ??
Me:No worries, I’ve got superhero powers, remember? I’ll snap my fingers and POOF! You’ll forget all about it.
Zena:My hero! But in case you didn’t know, I prefer my superheroes in sexy black boxer-briefs. Are you wearing them right now?
Me:Always. I’ve got a drawer full of them, just for you. You’ll have to miss my fashion show tonight.
Zena:Not so fast! I have the perfect solution. How about you come as you are and join me for a little late-night ice cream party in the kitchen?
Me:In my underwear? Are you trying to get me in trouble, missy?
Zena:Oh, come on! My parents are sleeping, and it’s not like I haven’t seen them before. Go to the kitchen and take the ice cream out of the freezer so it can thaw a bit. It’s better if we go separately, in case they hear something. I’ll meet you there in a couple of minutes.
Me:This feels like a trap. ??
Zena:Are you a superhero or a wimp?
Me:Can I be both?
Zena:No! I guess you don’t want to see the sexy new red nightgown I bought. Your loss! Good night! ??
Me:On my way to the kitchen right now!
I’ve never moved so fast in my life, speed-tip-toeing out of my room, feeling like a teenage boy sneaking out the window for the first time. Luckily, the floor didn’t creak under my bare feet, but there was something else loud and jolting that my ears didn’t expect.
The sound of me smacking into Mr. Dalton’s chest.
Wait, it gets worse …
He was standing there in his underwear as well.
“Don’t tell me, you’re locked out of your room again?” he asked, eyeing me up and down.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
“Have some decency,” he added. “You shouldn’t be running around the suite practically naked.”
The irony was killing me as he stood there in his silk boxers, not to mention the “Get Your Freak On” festival I’d witnessed earlier with him and Mrs. Dalton on the couch.
I kept my reply simple and lied through my teeth. “I’m getting some water.”
“What a coincidence,” he said. “Me too.”
Oh, come on!
I trudged downstairs behind him, this impromptu tyrant-employee bonding session about as comfortable as a cactus sweater. Mr. Dalton, ever the gracious host, poured us both a glass of water. We drank in silence, avoiding eye contact as if it was an Olympic sport.
Finally, Mr. Dalton cleared his throat. “We should head back up and try to get some sleep.”
I nodded so hard I almost gave myself whiplash. “Great idea.”
He accompanied me back upstairs to my room. We said goodnight, then I entered my bedroom and fired off a text to Zena.
Me:Houston, we have a problem. I ran into your dad. Literally. ??
Zena:I know! I heard you outside my door.
