Page 69 of Hot Mic, Cold Ice
“I was hungry,” she declares nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders as though her sudden departure for pizza is the most normal response in the world to a heartfelt confession of love and plans for our shared future. Her casual demeanor throws me for a moment, but then I notice the slight tremor in her smile, betraying her nervous energy.
“What the fuck, Ziggy?” I can’t help but exclaim, my emotions tipping into frustration. This is not how I pictured the aftermath of my heart-spilling. My head is still reeling from everything, totally unsure about where I stand.
She sets the pizza down on the kitchen counter and looks up at me with those beautiful eyes that always see right through me. “Sorry, I just... needed a minute to think. And, well, the delivery guy couldn’t get inside,” she adds with a quirky tilt of her head, trying to lighten the mood that had grown too heavy.
Despite the absurdity of the situation, a laugh escapes me. There she is, Ziggy in all her unpredictability, bringing pizza into a life-changing conversation. It is just so quintessentially her—naturally doing things that drive me crazy, piss me off, and will forever leave me wanting more with her.
“About everything you said...” she starts, hesitating as she meets my gaze. “Elliot, you’re not going to be flying back and forth to New York.”
I blink, taken aback. “What? You don’t want to try? Just like that, it's all over?” As I absorb Ziggy’s words, still slightly baffled, she shakes her head in exasperation. Like my confusion is an annoyance that she doesn’t have time for. She holds her hands up, like she has a lot more to say.
“So, I got these job offers,” she starts, her voice steady as she monitors the shift in my expression, which I’m sure mirrors my growing interest and concern.
“One was to go back to New York and stay in sports, covering games and continuing in the travel schedule like I did this past year.” She pauses, and I can almost feel the weight of her decision pressing down on her. “The other was here, in Atlanta. It’s actually my dream job—an on-air news anchor position. Something I’ve always aspired to.” Her smile broadens, lighting up her face with relief and excitement as she voices her choice.
“It was actually an easy choice. I’m staying, Elliot. I’m staying in Atlanta.” The simplicity and conviction in her decision feels like divine intervention.
As I absorb Ziggy’s news, still grappling with the rapid changes unfolding in the plan I had in mind for how tonight was going to go, she gives me a look of mischief mixed with maybe a little bit of pride.
“And that’s not all,” she adds, her voice carrying a hint of something that piques my curiosity further. “I also bought a townhouse here.”
The words hit me like a wave—she is really planting roots here, making decisions that anchor her to this city, to a life that we can potentially share with each other. Her eyes sparkle with a blend of challenge and anticipation as if she is eager to see my reaction to her own life-changing moves. Here she is, not just waiting for life to happen to her but actively shaping it, mirroring the bold steps I had just taken myself. The realization that we are both making significant changes, aligning ourfutures without even realizing it, fills me with bated breaths of hope.
She continues, the words tumbling out faster now, her voice laced with a vulnerability that cracks open my resolve, feeling her words deep within me. “I guess what I’m trying to say is, I missed you. A lot. And no matter how hard I tried to make you the enemy, to hate you... I couldn’t.” Her eyes, usually so fierce and confident, hold a softness that I’ve only seen once before. Our last night together.
The relief that washes over me is so strong it knocks me off kilter. I close the distance between us, our chests almost touching. Her admission has lifted a weight off my chest, and I am left practically breathless with hope. “Ziggy, are you saying...?” I prompt gently, needing to hear the words to confirm that this isn’t just a fleeting moment.
She nods, her eyes locking with mine, a determined yet tender look on her face. “Yes, Elliot, I have feelings for you, too. I’ve had strong feelings for a long time.” Her voice is a mix of confession and affirmation, everything between us seeming to align. The difficult path that had led us here suddenly makes sense, and the future, our future, feels like it is shaping up exactly how it is supposed to.
I pull Ziggy into my arms with a swift motion, my heart pounding against my chest. The moment our lips meet in a deep, passionate kiss, I pour every ounce of my feelings into it, wanting her to feel just how deeply she affects me, how she stirs something profound within me. It is a kiss meant to bridge all the gaps, to seal the silent promises we’d once hesitated to speak aloud.
As quickly as I drew her close, I step back, holding her at arm’s length, my breath uneven with the intensity of the kiss.
“Azaelea Blackwater,” I start, my voice rough with emotion, “will you be my girlfriend?”
It is sudden, crazy even, but I know with unshakable certainty that I can’t move backward with her, not now, not after this. I need her and want her in my life in a way that will never change.
She cuts me off with a raised hand, a playful yet serious look in her eyes. “How about I do you one better? Come with me.” Without waiting for my response, she grabs the pizza and her keys, pulling me along as she heads out the door.
Stunned, I follow her to her car, still trying to process the rapid shift in our dynamic. “Where are we going?” I ask as she starts the engine.
“You’ll see,” is all she gives me, a mysterious smile playing on her lips.
The drive is a blur of streetlights and the quiet hum of the city at night. My heart races with anticipation and a deep, overwhelming sense of rightness. Whatever is happening, wherever she is taking me, I know this is where I am supposed to be.
We pull up in front of a townhouse. The type of property I would have picked out myself. The street is dark; the only light is the warm glow of the lampposts. Ziggy parks in the small drive and turns off the engine. She turns to look at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears and happiness. “Welcome to our new home,” she whispers.
I am speechless, overwhelmed by the magnitude of her gesture. She has built a life here, in Atlanta, and now she is inviting me to be a part of it. We’ve flown way past taking it slow, or reacquainting ourselves. We are fully committed to how we truly feel and choosing each other, permanently, and I wouldn’t want it any other way.
My emotions overflow, and I reach out to pull her into a tight embrace. “I love you, Ziggy. More than I’ve ever loved anything or anyone,” I confess, the words echoing true in the quiet of her car.
She hugs me back with all of her strength. “I love you, too, Elliot. And I’m so glad you’re here with me.”
We stay like that for a long moment before finally stepping out of the car to enter the townhouse. As Ziggy leads me inside, I take in every detail, each one a testament to the steps she has taken–for her life, and now, our future.
As I step further into the townhouse Ziggy has chosen, it strikes me just how perfectly it mirrors both of our personalities. The place is vibrant with dark accents and somehow still bathed in brightness, exactly how I see Ziggy and myself. Walking through each room, I can see both of us in every detail, from the choice of art already on the walls to the layout. This isn’t just a house. It’s a physical manifestation of each of our interests, styles, and our personalities, a true blend of what each of us will bring into the relationship.
We sit on the bare floor of the sparsely furnished living room, a large pizza box between us, sharing slices as we settle into our new beginning. The minimal furniture doesn’t matter; the space already feels perfect, like us. As I take another bite, I look over at Ziggy, her eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief.