Icy Pretty Love Read Online Free
Author: L.A Rose
please. No, I haven’t looked at a menu. Uh…just bring me the most expensive thing you have. Two of them. And one of the second most expensive thing you have. And some French fries. Thank you.”
Within twenty minutes, two steaming lobsters, something yellowy-brown to be served on pita bread that bellboy explains is foie gras, and some thick-sliced potato wedges that don’t remotely resemble anything I’ve ever bought at McDonalds are delivered to me. I stuff myself, cracking lobster legs while switching through one kajillion channels on the large TV mounted in my room, most of which are tragically in French. Afterwards I’m so full up with deliciousness, and consequently happiness, that I blast some French pop music and dance around the apartment in nothing but a sheet, which is a bad idea, because I almost puke up all the deliciousness.
After a second bath to wash away the dance-sweatiness, it’s past midnight and Cohen still isn’t back. Maybe he’s found himself another place uninhabited by a ‘mouthy call-girl’ and he plans on leaving me here alone for a month, which would be just fine by me. If there’s a limit to the number of lobsters I can eat, it’s very high.
Eventually jetlag catches up to me and I crawl into bed. My cell phone is on the bedside table. I reach toward it out of reflex, wanting to call my old roommate, Nikki, and tell her everything, before I remember that I swore to leave everything about my old life behind. Including friends.
I do have a text, though, from my grumpy Google Maps savior.
334-827-3884 : *you’re
I text back:
RG: Your very particular about grammar. Its a little funny.
He responds within five minutes.
334-827-3884 : *you’re *it’s
RG: Im could definately learn a lot from your.
334-827-3884 : I see what you’re doing.
RG: Do you? Because right now I’m making sweet love to a feather pillow and nobody needs to see that.
334-827-3884 : Goodbye.
I stare at the word on the screen, and suddenly my chest is crushed by the loneliness of being in a new country where the only person who knows my name hates me. If I don’t have someone to talk to, I’ll explode. Wrong Number and Baldy are my only candidates, and at least there’s a possibility of Wrong Number having hair.
RG: Wait. Are you a boy or a girl?
334-827-3884 : What, are you doing a survey?
RG: No, I just was pegging you as a boy and I wanted to see if I’m right.
334-827-3884 : Congratulations.
Something about the sharp, dead acridity of his tone makes me hesitate. Maybe I’d gotten that number right after all.
RG: This isn’t Cohen, is it?
A few beats. Then:
334-827-3884 : Not so lucky with your guessing game the second time. Now leave me alone.
RG: At least tell me your name.
RG: If you don’t tell me your name I’ll be forced to call you Elbert.
334-827-3884 : I couldn’t care less what you call me because I will be ignoring your messages from now on.
RG: Okay, Elbert.
RG: So Elbert, what do people do for fun in Paris?
RG: Elbert Elbert Elbert Elbert
RG: ELBERT ELBERT ELBERT ELBERT
334-827-3884 : Jesus.
RG: So your name’s Jesus! Guess your parents were religious. Hello, Jesus.
334-827-3884 : Call me Sam if you feel the need to call me something.
RG: Sure thing, Sammy boy.
RG: So you’re a pretty grumpy person, right?
Sam: I’m having a somewhat shitty day. There’s a stranger who won’t stop texting me.
RG: I’m sure this beautiful and charming stranger would leave you alone if you gave her some advice, from a grumpy person’s perspective.
Sam: I don’t understand why we’re still talking.
RG: Say you lived alone and then suddenly someone new had to live with you for a month, and there was nothing you could do about it.
Sam: I’d move.
RG: Say you couldn’t move.
Sam: I’d make them move.
RG: Not on the
Within twenty minutes, two steaming lobsters, something yellowy-brown to be served on pita bread that bellboy explains is foie gras, and some thick-sliced potato wedges that don’t remotely resemble anything I’ve ever bought at McDonalds are delivered to me. I stuff myself, cracking lobster legs while switching through one kajillion channels on the large TV mounted in my room, most of which are tragically in French. Afterwards I’m so full up with deliciousness, and consequently happiness, that I blast some French pop music and dance around the apartment in nothing but a sheet, which is a bad idea, because I almost puke up all the deliciousness.
After a second bath to wash away the dance-sweatiness, it’s past midnight and Cohen still isn’t back. Maybe he’s found himself another place uninhabited by a ‘mouthy call-girl’ and he plans on leaving me here alone for a month, which would be just fine by me. If there’s a limit to the number of lobsters I can eat, it’s very high.
Eventually jetlag catches up to me and I crawl into bed. My cell phone is on the bedside table. I reach toward it out of reflex, wanting to call my old roommate, Nikki, and tell her everything, before I remember that I swore to leave everything about my old life behind. Including friends.
I do have a text, though, from my grumpy Google Maps savior.
334-827-3884 : *you’re
I text back:
RG: Your very particular about grammar. Its a little funny.
He responds within five minutes.
334-827-3884 : *you’re *it’s
RG: Im could definately learn a lot from your.
334-827-3884 : I see what you’re doing.
RG: Do you? Because right now I’m making sweet love to a feather pillow and nobody needs to see that.
334-827-3884 : Goodbye.
I stare at the word on the screen, and suddenly my chest is crushed by the loneliness of being in a new country where the only person who knows my name hates me. If I don’t have someone to talk to, I’ll explode. Wrong Number and Baldy are my only candidates, and at least there’s a possibility of Wrong Number having hair.
RG: Wait. Are you a boy or a girl?
334-827-3884 : What, are you doing a survey?
RG: No, I just was pegging you as a boy and I wanted to see if I’m right.
334-827-3884 : Congratulations.
Something about the sharp, dead acridity of his tone makes me hesitate. Maybe I’d gotten that number right after all.
RG: This isn’t Cohen, is it?
A few beats. Then:
334-827-3884 : Not so lucky with your guessing game the second time. Now leave me alone.
RG: At least tell me your name.
RG: If you don’t tell me your name I’ll be forced to call you Elbert.
334-827-3884 : I couldn’t care less what you call me because I will be ignoring your messages from now on.
RG: Okay, Elbert.
RG: So Elbert, what do people do for fun in Paris?
RG: Elbert Elbert Elbert Elbert
RG: ELBERT ELBERT ELBERT ELBERT
334-827-3884 : Jesus.
RG: So your name’s Jesus! Guess your parents were religious. Hello, Jesus.
334-827-3884 : Call me Sam if you feel the need to call me something.
RG: Sure thing, Sammy boy.
RG: So you’re a pretty grumpy person, right?
Sam: I’m having a somewhat shitty day. There’s a stranger who won’t stop texting me.
RG: I’m sure this beautiful and charming stranger would leave you alone if you gave her some advice, from a grumpy person’s perspective.
Sam: I don’t understand why we’re still talking.
RG: Say you lived alone and then suddenly someone new had to live with you for a month, and there was nothing you could do about it.
Sam: I’d move.
RG: Say you couldn’t move.
Sam: I’d make them move.
RG: Not on the
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