I’m walking slower now, and Alex adjusts his speed next to me. His hand is no longer on my back, but he’s close. I drop my eyes to the sidewalk just as we reach the end of the line. The couple in front of us turns around, and I’m surrounded by voices.
They know him, because everyone does. They say hi, and there are handshakes or fist bumps or whatever. More words, more voices. A few others come over. I shrink back just a step. If Alex notices, I can’t tell. The conversation goes on, lively and loud. It’s probably not even that loud. It’s probably just me.
I hear every few words, especially if they’re Alex’s, but whatever everyone’s talking about really doesn’t register. The line moves forward, and I gravitate with it, as does the group surrounding us.
More handshakes. Something that sounds like an invitation to something in Omaha. For Friday night. Maybe.
Alex seems interested.
My stomach hurts.
Then, the others leave, and we’re alone in line again. There’s a group behind us now—a family with some young kids—and we shuffle forward as one of the children screeches at the top of their lungs. The mom gently reminds the child they have to wait until it’s their turn.
I shove my hands into my pockets and take another step forward as the line moves.
Alex is talking now, and it takes me another moment to realize he’s talking to me, his hand on my upper arm, giving me a soft squeeze.
“So, what do you think? I know it’s not your thing, but it could be fun?” He sounds hopeful as fuck, and I clench my jaw.
“S-sorry, what do I think about what?” I stammer, shifting just slightly so he has to drop his hand from my arm.
We’re at the doorway to the ice cream place now, and we both squish to one side to let the people exiting get by. Then we step all the way in. The chill of the building’s air conditioning cools some of the heat simmering below my skin, but I’m still not okay, especially when the child behind us screams again and the mom isn’t quite as gentle with her words this time.
Alex scoots closer to me, and his hand finds my back. “Everyone from school is getting together on Friday night, heading into Omaha to go to Dave and Buster’s.”
“Oh, right. Um. Cool.” There’s no sincerity in my voice at all, and I’m sure Alex hears it.
He laughs, and his hand presses into my back, guiding me forward a step. We’re finally almost at the front of the line. I’m not even sure if I want ice cream now.
“We don’t have to go,” Alex says, and even though my mind wants to invent things, I can’t hear any disappointment or negativity in his voice at all. “It sounded kinda fun, but I wouldn’t wantyou to be uncomfortable.”
I’m actually not sure how to respond, especially right now when I’m starting to feel lightheaded and everything seems to be closing in around me. Fucking anxiety. “C-can we talk about this later, maybe?”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.” Alex’s hand drops from my back, and a moment later, he steps up around me to the counter and orders. A double scoop of mint chip in a cake cone for himself and then chocolate peanut butter brownie in a cake cone for me. He gives me a look to confirm, and I manage a tight nod.
A few minutes later, we’re stepping back outside in the early evening heat, ice cream cones in hand. Alex walks just behind me, and my stupid ass is imagining he’s doing it to make me feel safer. His free hand finds my back, and he leans in and says, “How about we head out to the river? We can eat the ice cream on the way, and it should be quieter there, so we can just relax and talk.”
“Yeah, okay,” I agree, my voice low and shaky. And though he doesn’t respond, I can almost feel his apology in the way his hand brushes my back lightly, guiding me in the direction of his mom’s truck.
“Ugh, this is so good,” he says, and when I glance sideways at him, I’m immediately distracted. He’s licking around the base of the ice cream scoop, catching the melting drops before they can slide down the cone.
It’s a fucking good distraction, really.
His eyes meet mine as he starts around the ice cream again, and he slows his tongue just enough that I’m sure he knows I can’t have missed it.
Fuck. How is eating ice cream sexy now?
My eyes dart down to the cone, and I watch, my dick stirring with interest, as he licks up another drop of ice cream about to fall.
“Yours is melting too,” he says with a smirk. We stop at hismom’s truck, and he glances back over his shoulder in the direction we came before turning to face me again. His eyes are hungry as they drop to my ice cream cone. “Don’t want to make a mess.”
“Mm-hmm, yeah.” I give him just as good a show as he gave me, slowly tracing a path with my tongue around the edge where the ice cream meets the cone. I even close my eyes and moan a little—because chocolate peanut butter brownie is fucking good. My eyes flutter back open in time to see his cheeks flush and his gaze darken. I recognize the look. It’s the same one he had in the hallway last week when he was watching my ass as I walked away.
I lean back against the truck, holding his heated gaze, and he steps closer, licking the ice cream from his lips. He stops just a few inches away, now biting his lip, his eyes drawn to my mouth. The tension in the air is sharp, and he swallows hard and drags his eyes up to meet mine.
“We should go,” I whisper, and he nods eagerly, which makes me laugh. Before he has a chance to move away, I tease him one more time, running my tongue around the outside of the cone again.
He groans, and I laugh as he opens up the passenger side door for me. “Get in before I kiss you right here in front of everyone,” he says, his voice almost a low growl.
