It had maybe seventeen years between the first time I stepped into Mort's Bar and Grill as a child, attempting to sell candy bars for a school fundraiser, and when I walked through the doors again with Ben, and yet it somehow maintained the exact same smell of grease, beer and stale cigarette smoke.  I flashed back onto the ten year old Mackenzie, walking inside right after school, not knowing to be concerned to see several men quietly sitting at the bar, obviously several glasses in, at three in the afternoon, and I had sold five candy bars to Mort himself.  Those candy bars were sold to raise money for new playground equipment, and I was the third highest seller in the class.  Not enough to win any of the prizes, but it made me feel like the resulting swing-set was somehow more mine than other kids who hadn't pounded the pavement as dutifully as I had.  Installed late in the fall of my sixth grade year, they were immediately claimed by the Amber's and Michelle's as the hot spot for the recess set.  I am not sure how those kids made it out to the swings first every single day, but there was always at least one, holding onto the empty seats, saving them for better stock than the likes of someone such as myself.  Then, at the end of the year, I went off to junior high, and to this day have never set cheek on one of those blasted swings.

    Inside as an adult was not any different than inside as a ten year old, honestly, save for my lack of candy to hock, and my ability to drink legally.  I was almost certain that the men hunched over the bar, looking deflated, were the same ones I had seen so many years before.  Had they ever moved at all?

    Mort's had the same trappings as any other small town watering hole.  Dim lights, dart boards, regulars, and a jukebox that played loud enough that it somewhat hindered quiet conversation, but not loud enough that one would feel comfortable breaking out on the dance floor.  And by dance floor, I of course mean the little eight by eight section of hardwood flooring tiles laying unsecured in the middle of seating area.  Definitely an afterthought, that dance floor.

    One other noticeable difference was the presence of a tiny, punkish little girl behind the bar, popping the caps off two bottles of Budweiser at the same time.  She was glaringly out of place, and yet moved with the confident ease that showed she knew she belonged.  Her hair was cropped short in a spiky pixie cut, dyed a platinum blond, but with a few select spikes showing a bright purple hue.  Her eyes were solidly lined all the way around with black eyeliner, causing her icy blue eyes to pop out in a spectacular way against her pale skin.  As she smiled and chatted with the recipients of the beers she had just opened, I caught a glimpse of a tongue ring.  It wasn't until she glanced up directly at us as we walked towards a table that I realized I knew her.

    "Hey, Ben!" she called, and then my face clicked with her as well.  "Oh my god, no way!"

    "Hello, Callie!" Ben smiled back, but she was already flouncing her way out from behind the bar towards us.

    "Max!" she squealed as she reached us, and without warning launched herself onto me into a tight hug.  I was grateful that Ben steadied me a little by catching my arm, or she and I might have both tumbled over onto the floor.  "Oh man, how are you?"  Her enthusiasm poured off of her in near visible waves, and for a split second I was so caught up by her, I felt the urge to join her in the jumping and squealing.  Spunky would be a good word to describe Callie Davids.  "I haven't seen you in forever!"  She hopped between Ben and I, putting her arms around both of our shoulders and started leading us towards the back part of the room, near the end of the bar.  "Oh, that's right, I am so sorry, I forgot about your Grandmother!  I was really sad to hear about her dying, she was just the nicest person.  Are you okay?  Do you need anything?  Hey, I heard you were staying at her house over on Lavender, is that true?  Really, she was such a cool person, I am so sorry."

    Her words came out as if they were one giant, rapid fire, run on sentence.  Before I could translate her words from Callie speed, to normal human speed, we found ourselves sitting at a table, with her hovering over us.  I flashed a quick look at Ben who had the same look of amusement and confusion that I felt on myself.  Before I could even respond, she was turning her verbal speed racing on him.

    "Ben!" she said as she gave him a light smack on the arm, "I haven't seen you in like a year!  How have you been?" Then with a double take between the two of us she asked, "Hey, wait...  Are you guys on a date?"

    "NO!"  The words flew out of me so loudly that I thought I saw one of the mannequin men at the bar flinch.  

    Well, that shut her up.  Her eyes popped open wide and she stared at me.  She was only still for a second or two, but in Callie time, it had to be more like a good minute.  Once she caught the smile that Ben was trying very hard to bite back, she let out a tinkling little laugh and was back to her burst of energy.

    "Hey, I will go get you guys some menus, and stuff, but my break is in like fifteen minutes, do you mind if I join you?"

    "Absolutely!" I smiled, trying to offset my previous explosion.  I meant it though, I loved Callie, even the hummingbird version of her that was flitting about in front of me.

    Seconds later she was back in front of us, (had I even seen her leave?) and was handing us two crinkly pieces of yellow paper that served as menus.  "Here ya go!" she smiled a giant toothy smile, "Hey, I'll send over a couple drinks, on me, okay?  It is so great to see you guys!  I will be back in a bit, but enjoy your food!"

    And she was gone again.  

    "Okay, whatever she is on, I want some." I announced.  Ben and I locked eyes for a second, then burst out laughing together.

    A woman whom I recognized from town, but whose name I couldn't remember for the life of me appeared to take our orders, and drop off the drinks Callie had promised.  She didn't introduce herself, and spoke as a woman who had been at this for a long time, and was not exactly fond of the path she had taken.  Her grizzled delivery of the words "Whad'll ya have?" had us listing off the first things we saw on the menu just to make the interaction move along faster.  She whipped the menus out of our hands bruskly, just enough so that you could tell she was irritated, but not enough that you could actually call her rude.  My guess it was an action that had been delicately honed over time.

    "Well."  Ben began as soon as she bolted away, "She certainly had a um..."

    "Crusty charm?" I offered.

    "Yes!  Perfect assessment."  We laughed and his attention focused on the martini glasses filled with an unidentified green substance in front of us.  "So what do you suppose these are?"

    "Um."  I had nothing.

    "Well, you did say you wanted whatever it was that she was taking, so maybe we should just assume this is it."  He made a good point, i just wasn't sure I was brave enough to test the theory by actually ingesting the concoction.

    "You first."

    He debated this for a second before suggesting, "Together?"

    "Deal."

    I took a deep breath as we both raised our glasses, and tried not to giggle at the seriousness in his eyes betraying the smirk on his lips.  We both paused before the final tilt, waiting to see if the other would chicken out.  I closed my eyes and pulled it in.

    It burned.  It made my eyes water.  It was good.

    "Oh, wow."  Ben coughed.  "That's, er..." he searched, "Fruity."

    "I like it!" I declared happily and took another throat charring swig.

    He smiled at me, giving me a studying look and said, "See, I told you."

    "Told me what?" I inhaled as I spoke, trying to suck down the fumes of the drink.

    "That I would get you liquored up."

    "Funny." I deadpanned, "But you are drinking it to, how does that figure into your plan?"

    "Is there some objection that you have that I am not aware of?" he smirked.

    "To drinking?" my voice confused, "No, believe me I have had a drink or two before."  I thought carefully.  "Or three."

    "No."  the smirk remained and I took another drink, "To the idea that we would be on a date."

    I choked, mid-swallow.

    "Just in case I decide to ever ask you."  his voice was cashmere soft as he spoke, "It would be nice to know in advance.  I would hate to get shot down when I could have known beforehand."

    I felt my entire face burn instantly.

    "You okay there?"

    "Um, yeah." I sputtered, "The uh, drink is really strong."

    The waitress brought us a serving tray full of plates, handing them out gruffly and giving us a nice glower before moving on to the next table.  As much as I was put off by her surly demeanor, I was grateful for the distraction.  That is until I looked in front of us.

    "Wait," I pondered, "Did we order any of this?"

    In front of us on the table lay a plethora of food.  A cornucopia of gastrointestinal treats that I am certain, green ooze or no, that neither of us asked for.  Buffalo wings, mozzarella sticks, a plate with a fish sandwich and fries, a Cobb salad and what appeared to be country fried steak.

    "I thought I said a burger." he squinted towards the numerous plates, "You?"

    "Chicken sandwich."  

    We stared at the bounty before us, before simultaneously turning to look at our deliverer of said bounty, and once we caught sight of her disapproving death stare, we turned quietly back to the food.

    "So." he sighed, a giant grin expanding across his face, "Cheese stick?"

    "I think she may hurt us if we don't!" I mock whispered and grabbed the offered stick.

    We ate together for a few moments, periodically catching the lasers of annoyance from Crusty the Waitress, which caused us to giggle back into our food like naughty teenagers.  Neither of us saw her coming, but suddenly Callie was flopping into one of the two free chairs beside us, her own glass of green in hand.    "Hey, guys!" she trilled, "Holy crap, that is a lot of food.  You guys hungry, or what?"  Ben and I chuckled loudly and threw our glances towards the waiting menace.  "Oh!" she laughed, "You got Martha!"  As she analyzed our spread, "Wow, she usually brings out at least one French onion soup.  She must be off tonight."

    The seriousness of her tone, well, that and the warm feeling that was spreading from my stomach into my butt, whatever it was, it caused me to laugh as if this was the funniest thing I had ever heard.

    We sat there, the three of us, for what seemed like an exceptionally long time, talking and catching up.  Callie has started college after high school like the rest of us, but she had decided to go the bohemian route after the first semester and took off the next few years, working, traveling, and "discovering herself".  I was pleased when she put air quotes around those words, so I didn't have to make fun of her for trying to pass that off without sounding pretentious.  After her trek around the world, she settled back down in Biddleton and went back to school for graphic design, working nights at Mort's to make the school a reality.  She apologized for her incessant peppiness, blaming the seven cups of coffee she had slammed back since arriving at work that night, assuring us that while she is always a bit of sunshine, she was usually not that particular level of brightness.

    The conversation flowed smoothly, the three of us chatting away, and for a while, I was comforted by the familiar faces.  I felt as though I had been magically invoked into the hot table in the cafeteria, full of cool kids and enviable stories.  The table that had I not been so petrified back in the day, I would have sold my left kidney to have been invited to sit near, let alone at.  Nagging at the back of my brain was the thought that I didn't belong.  That I had been summoned as part of a never ending cruel joke.  When they laughed, was it because something I had said was funny, or was I being laughed at?

    I wasn't about to let my paranoia get the best of me while sitting there, so instead I listened intently as Callie spoke, and sucked down another singing sip.

    "So, what exactly is this green stuff?" I asked after her rundown.

    "Can I tell you a secret?" she whispered conspiratorially, wagging her finger to draw is inward.  "I have no idea.  I just grab a few bottles and pour, top it with this apple stuff, and hope no one pukes."

    We all laughed together and as the drinks neared the bottom of the glass, she waved her hand at Martha for refills.

    "Driving."  Ben smiled at her, to which she motioned for two.

    "Oh sure," I glared mockingly, "Quitter."

    As the second batch arrived, courtesy of Martha, the conversation turned slightly gossipy after I mentioned that it was Michelle who had pointed me in Callie's direction earlier in the day.  Her face lit up as she launched into a hushed but enthusiastic recount of Michelle related debauchery.  For example, the dream home she spoke of was always in under the constant threat of foreclosure, or being condemned.  The two boys she and her husband Jackson had looked absolutely nothing like Jackson at all, but more closely resembled Joshua Miller, a man who had been about three years above us in school, and whom was known to frequent various local establishments with Michelle.  And while those two children bared no resemblance to Jackson, Jessica Gregory's three kids certainly did.  Jessica was a sad little creature, several years younger than us, that made a name for herself by latching on to various people throughout her high school career.  She would alter her clothes based off the clothes of her new leader, becoming frightening little doppelgangers to many.  Most notably, she was that girl who very much confused the act of sex with love.  I could easily envision her in her situation as a single mother of three children, who honestly believes that the married man she is cheating with will someday choose her and ride off into the sunset together.  It was hard not to shake my head at the self destructive choices she had made for herself, even worse for her kids, but it was even harder not to pity her.

    I sat there silently, poking my fork into the salad, contemplating the various tales Callie had shared when Ben politely excused himself from the table, presumably heading towards the bathroom.

    "So."  Callie turned to me as soon as he was out of earshot, "What is the deal?  Are you guys dating, or what?"

    "No!" I hissed, "Are you kidding me?!"

    "What, you are so into each other!" she giggled as a third round arrived, "You used to crush on him like crazy!"

    "That was years ago, Callie," I glared, taking a long sip.  "Besides, that is Ben Stevens, for crying out loud!"

    "God, Max," she rolled her eyes, "You aren't freaking ten years old anymore."

    I blushed again.  "I know, but still."  Dang, that green was making me feel a bit fuzzy, "You wanna know something though?"

    "What?"  She leaned forward as if I was about to tell her the hottest gossip ever uttered, and it occurred to me that we were talking the night away as if we were old friends reunited after years apart.  I had always adored her, and she had always been kind, but even still her time had always been somewhat limited.  It felt incredibly good to be the center of her attention.

    "He said something about asking me out."

    The squeal that emitted from her, I was not prepared for.

    "That is awesome!" she was in hyper decibel mode, "He is so hot!"

    "Whatever, I could never date Ben Stevens."

    As if on cue, he suddenly appeared, retaking his seat, gauging our expressions suspiciously.

    "Did I miss anything interesting?" he inquired.

    "Nope!" I declared, taking another drink.

    "Actually," Callie began, "We were talking about how you asked Max out."

    Oh, holy shit.

    "Or how you were going to," she finished.

    "Yeah," Ben smiled, "I think she might have some issue with that."

    I felt my face preparing to burst into flames and I took another swig.

    "Callie," I fought hard for my voice to come off calm and controlled, "I will pay you a hundred dollars if you stop talking, right this very second."

    "As much fun as it is to sit here and watch you turn seventeen different shades of red," she chuckled, "I have to get back to it."  She jumped up from her chair, and started scooping up the numerous picked over plates on the table.  "Hey, give me your number!  We should hang out sometime!  It would be nice to have one normal person around here."

    The green was setting in nicely and it kept me from being able to hide the fact that I was beaming at the notion that Callie Davids not only wanted to hang out with me, but that she thought I was "normal".  Obviously the drink had melted her brain.

    Callie and I exchanged information, her promising to call me soon so that we could spend an afternoon together.  The suspicious voice in my head tried to rattle me by declaring that I would never hear from her in a million years, but by that point, a solid level of tipsiness had taken over and I couldn't be bothered to listen to it.  Martha stomped over and began yanking the plates that Callie had missed noisily off the table, grumbling unintelligibly under her breath, no doubt chastising Callie for taking a break, or us for breathing or some other heinous crime.  With a final annoyed huff, Martha slapped the check down in front of Ben and then disappeared into the kitchen.  Callie's attempt to hide her amusement had reached it's limits, sending her into a pronounced guffaw, which we soon joined her in.  

    I grabbed instinctively for the bill only to feel it whisked out of my grasp by Ben who gently shook his head and made a soft clicking sound with his tongue.  Ah, yes.  His eternal struggle with Grams over the matter of who pays.  I attempted to protest, feeling guilty that he had covered the last dinner, but he was already placing money in the thin black folder, and getting up from his chair.

    "Callie, it was wonderful to see you again,"  It unnerved me that he was always so formal and proper.  Just another facet of his perfection that I was nowhere near by comparison.

    "Oh my gosh, you too!" she squealed, latching onto his suit jacket and jerking him forward into a tight hug.  I took a certain level of pleasure out of seeing the look of shock splashed across his face as she did that.  The moment was fleeting however, as I could feel my own eyes bug out when she did the same thing to me.  "Max, I am so going to call you so we can hang out this weekend!"

    "Do you promise not to drink any coffee beforehand?" My voice was coming out rather strained and breathless complements of the force from her embrace.  Surprising that so much strength could come out of someone so tiny.

    "Deal!" she squealed, squeezing me again.

    We said our goodbyes and watched as she bounced back behind the bar, always under the glaring supervision of Martha, while Ben and I pulled on our coats and made our way outside.

    "I know why you paid with cash." I said coyly as we headed towards the car.

    "What do you mean?"

    "Because if you had paid with a card, Martha would have had to come back for a signature."  I laughed.

    "I am not ashamed to admit she was a scary lady."  he insisted with mock determination.  "I am pretty sure I left a fifty percent tip just because I was afraid to ask for change!"

    I burst out into giggles with him doing the same beside me.  I was about to break off to head to the passenger side of the car when my foot landed on a patch of ice and slide sharply out in front of me.  Ben was faster to act than I was, and managed to wrap himself around me enough that I didn't hit the ground.  I silently cursed the weather for the sudden arctic chill that had taken over the day.

    "You okay?" his voice concerned, his eyes amused.

    "Yeah," I muttered, trying to regain my footing, "Stupid ice."

    "I was thinking maybe one too many glasses of the green stuff," he chuckled, loosening his grip from around my waist, but allowing his arms to hover near me as if he were waiting for me to take another spill.  "I didn't realize my taking you drinking plan was so potentially hazardous."

    "Ha, ha," I glared sarcastically and grabbed onto the Lexus for support as I pulled myself to the door.  He was right behind me, opening the door, and guiding me into the seat.  His act of chivalry was equally endearing and annoying.  It felt patronizing, although I know that would never have been his intent.  I just have a knack for twisting every single thing he does.  Some skill.

    Once he was in the drivers seat, I settled in and enjoyed the warmth from the heater which he had cranked up nice and high.

    "It really is unnecessarily cold out," he mused.  He seemed to have something else on his mind, but was choosing to benignly discuss the weather instead.  I occasionally glanced over at him as he drove, always as covertly as possible, not wanting to be caught staring, and I was again swept away by the reality of him being Ben Stevens.  It was as if I was in the car with a movie star that everyone around me knew and awed, all the while I sat, hiding in the corner forbidding myself from getting carried away with the masses, knowing deep down that I already had.  He was certainly beautiful, classically handsome, one might say, far too impressive to be confined to the likes of Biddleton, and yet there he was, staring carefully at the roads, traveling slower than normal, watchful of potential newly formed ice patches, drumming his fingers gently along to a song I didn't recognize that played softly on the stereo.  I felt conspicuous, a glaring misplacement in those surroundings, easily identifiable to anyone with remotely functioning eyes.

    Surely he knew it, he could see it.  He had to.  How could he not?  Did he feel sorry for me?  Was that the reasoning behind his intangible interest?  I couldn't fathom any possibility that would have someone as epic-ly perfect as himself willingly placing themselves in the company of a walking blooper such as myself.  

    We rode the rest of the way in silence, his seeming to be comfortable, mine tainted with fret.  When he pulled into my drive, I was thrilled to have my escape at hand, and quickly jumped out of the car.  I hadn't noticed how warm and cozy I had been inside, so when I opened the door, the blast of icy air nearly knocked me back into the seat.  I turned to say a quick goodnight before shutting the door behind me, but it was too late.  Ben was already out and standing in front of the dimming headlights.  Why did he always have to be so gentlemanly?  Couldn't he just allow me to flee in peace?

    "Are you okay?" he asked quietly as I walked past him towards the house.  "You are being awfully quiet?"

    "Fine," I muttered, picking my pace.

    "Good," I could hear the smile in his voice, "Because I still wanted to ask you something."

    I stopped dead in my tracks, frozen right in front of the steps that led up to the front porch, and turned to stare at him incredulously.  

    "What?"

    "Well, you never answered my question earlier, but I figured it was worth it to take the shot anyway," he grinned.

    I was suddenly furious with him. "Okay, you know what, just stop with all that." I snapped, "Whatever it is you are trying to do, it isn't funny!"

    "I have no idea what you are talking about."  He appeared genuinely confused, and it just infuriated me more.

    "What are you bored?" I yelled, "Do you feel sorry for me, because I don't need that from you of all people!  This whole thing is just mean, and even though you might think it is hilarious, it isn't!"

    "Um, you are going to have to walk me through this," he frowned, "I am completely lost.  How did we go from me trying to ask you on a date to you yelling at me?  Did I offend you somehow?"

    "Yes!" I screamed.  We both jumped at the sudden rise in decibel.  "Yes, it is offensive to me that you would be trying to mess with me like this!  I have never done anything to you, and yet here you are, trying to hurt me for no discernible reason!  It's cruel!"

    "You think my asking you is a trick?" his jaw dropped as he spoke.

    "Of course it is!"  I had entered a shrieking place.  "Why the hell else would you do it?"

    "You're serious?" he stared wide eyed at me, "Why would you think that?"

    "Because what possible reason would someone like Ben Stevens have to go out with someone like me?!" I bit back tears again, hating the way the reality sounded out loud.  It was one thing to know it for all those years, it was quite another to have to acknowledge it in front of him.  I felt myself starting to crumble, the beginnings of a panic attack trickling through.  Not wanting to subject myself to an audience of Ben during my breakdown, I turned to dart inside.

    Once again, he reacted faster than I had.  He caught my arm and kept me from moving.  I wasn't in any kind of shape to allow that, so I tried to wrestle my way out.

    The thing that stopped my struggling, the thing that I never would have expected, and the one thing that could have rendered me incapacitated on a good day was the feeling of Ben's hands, cupping my face, holding me into place in front of him.  My cheeks having chilled in the wind, felt shocked by the heat of his skin against mine.  My breath caught sharply in my lungs, and I became a statue, immobile inches away from him.  I was no longer aware of the frigid winds swirling around me, but focused on the warmth of his body so close to mine.  It took a considerable amount of strength to will my eyes upward to look at his face.  I wasn't prepared to deal with his expression, equal parts concern and determination, his forehead shaped into a soft frown, his eyes bright and clear, his jaw locked tightly as he studied the woman in his hands.  

    One of my tears had escaped and was very slowly working its way down my lower lid.  Without altering his stance an inch, he slowly brushed his thumb against the top of my cheek, carefully wiping it away.  I shuddered.  It was the only movement I was capable of.

    "Max," he whispered.  "You're wrong.  You are so ridiculously wrong."  He took in a steady deep breath and continued, "I like being around you; spending time with you.  I like the things you say, and the way you think.  I liked the person you used to be, and I like the person I have gotten to know over the last few days.  I like seeing you blush when I speak, even though I don't deserve that kind of response."  The intensity in his eyes melted away the tiniest bit, and his lips pulled into a faint half smile.  "But mostly, I like the fact that every time I see you, as soon as I leave, I can't stop thinking about when I get to see you again."

    A wave of hysteria that I had felt building up disappeared into my numb chest.  I ferociously assessed his eyes, trying desperately to find a fleck of insincerity in them, something that would prove to me that this was all wrong, that it was the ruse I had suspected.  My mind pleaded with him for the evidence, the fear of his words proving to be real, to be honest was not something I would be able to comprehend.

    He kept my gaze locked within his own, his hands firmly, but delicately securing me before him.  I saw the deliberation in his eyes, the smile gone, the seriousness returned, and with a bite of his beautiful lower lip, his face moved slowly towards mine.

    My body chose this moment to figure out that I had been holding my breath ever since he had taken hold of me.  The numbness in my chest had spread out, working it's way up into my head making me violently dizzy.  I felt myself start to stumble backwards and managed to convince my left foot to step out to catch myself.  In a rapid motion that was too fast for even the mighty Ben Stevens to correct, my foot connected with a patch of ice on the sidewalk behind me, and combined with my oxygen deprived, already collapsing body, it was the prefect means to send me crashing fast and hard into the frozen solid ground beneath me.

    I made a pitiful thud when I landed, and began fighting very hard to pull air back into my screaming lungs.  I could feel the look of shock on my face, and I blinked wildly, trying to figure out exactly how I had managed to end up in this position.  I was taken aback by the fact that my face was complaining loudly against the cold air slamming into it, a painful contrast from the warmth his hands had left behind.  I shook my head and looked up to him.  

    He stood over me, cocking his head to the right just slightly, looking curiously down at the pile of crazy at his feet and inhaled slowly.

    "Mackenzie?" he spoke calmly, smoothly.

    "Yeah?"

    "Would you like to go on a date with me?"

    My face was blank, my thoughts jumbled, and my ass freezing on the ice below it.  I wasn't sure of what had just happened, and I wondered if I would ever understand all of it fully, but being a crumpled mess at Ben Stevens feet was enough in the moment.

    "Sure," I nodded.  "I'd love to."

    He smiled, the heart stopping smile that only he possessed, and I squinted at the pain that was forming in my left elbow that I had fallen on.

    "Um," I squinted up at him, "Hey, Ben?"

    "Yeah?"

    "Lil' help?"  

    He smiled, never once laughing at my dramatic spill, and pulled me off the ground with ease.  I shook my head and brushed off my pants, not knowing what to say, and for once feeling comfortable with the silence.  I chuckled to myself and started up the porch stairs once more.  When he put his arm solidly around my waist for support, I didn't mind.  I wasn't flooded with all the reasons why I should panic, but instead, just appreciated the gesture.

    At the door, I dug out my key and turned the lock, and a gust of warm air whooshed out of the entryway as it opened.

    I turned to face him once again.  "Thanks Ben," I smiled freely, "I had a really nice time!"

    "So did I," he chuckled.  After a brief pause, "How about Wednesday?  Pick you up at seven?  Start with dinner?"

    I nodded, feeling the look of amazement on my face, knowing it was blatantly readable.  

    "Great." he grinned, his voice like satin. "Have a good night, Max."

    "G'night, Ben," I sighed, smile still glued to my mouth.

    We stood there silently, looking at each other for just a moment before he turned and walked smoothly to his car, impervious to the ice it seemed.

    I slowly shut the door behind him, before heading into the kitchen to get some ice for my elbow, shaking my head and laughing at the impossibility of my day.