NINE
The little bellchimes as we enter the store. Scoopjoy, the closest ice cream shop to campus, is empty, but I predicted that given the weather. Meanwhile, the ramen place next door is packed.
As we peruse the large selection of flavors behind the glass, I focus on my breathing. My limbs are still shaky from my meltdown, but the fresh air helped clear my head a bit. So did Wes’s admission about his nerves. I have no idea how many people he’s told that story to, but I can’t deny I feel a little special he shared it with me. I never would have suspected someone like him to suffer anxiety of that magnitude.
Deciding on my flavor, I pull my wallet out of my bag and scan the room for the person who works here.
“Put that thing away,” Wes says, glaring at my wallet like it’s a personal affront. “It’s on me. It was my idea.”
Allowing him to pay feels unfair, especially when he’s already doing so much to help me with my speech. “Wes,” I warn, my grip tightening around the leather.
He freezes. He goes so still that it almost looks like he’s malfunctioning. “That’s the first time you’ve said my name.”
I blink at him, feeling my brows draw together. “That’s not true.”
Except he’s right. I know he’s right. I’ve said his name a million times in my head, but speaking it aloud is a different beast entirely.
The corner of his mouth lifts into a small smile. His eyes look pleased. “Trust me, I’d remember if you said it before.”
My frown deepens, but before I can respond to him, the employee shuffles out from the back room to take our order. “Welcome to Scoopjoy,” he says, sounding surprised to have actual customers when it’s below freezing outside. “Sorry for the wait. What can I get you?”
Wes offers him the warm smile he gives to everyone. “Hey, man. How’s it going? Can I please get a scoop of strawberry cheesecake, peanut butter chocolate, and mint chocolate chip in a waffle cone?”
The employee nods, reaching for the ice cream scoop. “Sure thing.”
“That’s a lot of conflicting flavors,” I note.
Wes shrugs. “I have too many favorites. Might as well have them all.”
I watch the employee balance the giant scoop of mint chocolate chip on top of the giant scoop of peanut butter chocolate before passing the cone across the counter to Wes. He’s smiling so wide he reminds me of a little kid at Christmas, and my mouth turns up in response.
After taking an enormous bite off the top, one that would be sure to give me brain freeze, he looks to me. “Ives? Know what you want?”
Although I feel guilty about making Wes pay, I recite my order, knowing he’ll probably make a big stink if I don’t. “Can I please have a soft serve twist in a cup with rainbow sprinkles? Thank you.”
Wes’s eyebrows shoot up. “Soft serve twist. Very old school.” I shrug, unable to help the twitch of my lips. “What’s funny?”
“Your chaotic, mix-match of an order is the opposite of my safe, basic one, is all.”
He grins, revealing his set of adorable dimples. “Good thing opposites attract.”
I give him a tentative smile. “Yeah. I guess so.”
When we both have our orders, Wes pays, and we take a seat at a table by the window. I’m amazed that Wes has already disappeared the top layer of his cone, while I’ve barely taken two bites of mine.
“So why rainbow sprinkles?” he asks, sounding genuinely curious. “Why not chocolate, when they arguably have more flavor?”
I think about it for a moment. “It’s a visual thing. I like the color. And it’s more about the crunch than the flavor.”
“Ah, so you’re a texture person.”
“A little.” I shrug. “I’m not super picky, but I don’t like cottage cheese. Or smooth peanut butter—it has to be chunky. And I don’t like sandwich bread unless it’s toasted.”
“Wow, I’m learning so much…” He trails off as his phones starts vibrating against the table, glancing down at the screen.
“Do you need to take that?”
He shakes his head, tapping the button to send it to voicemail. “Nah. It’s just my housemates, probably wondering what I’m up to. They can be extremely nosy when they want to be.”
