Mom looks at me, her eyes twinkling, before she looks back at the guy. “We’ll take all three.”
“Mom!” I laugh as I watch in astonishment as she hands over her card to pay.
“What? They all sound so good! How are we supposed to decide?”
“I don’t know, maybe start with one and the next time get something different?” I suggest, sarcastically.
“Where’s the fun in that?”
The guy, who looks to be about my age, and is rather cute, chuckles at our exchange. “This actually happens more than you’d think.”
“See, we aren’t the only ones with a weakness for sweets,” she says, looking over her shoulder and winking at me.
I roll my eyes but giggle at her antics. Secretly, I’m excited to try a variety because it’s once in a blue moon that Mom decides we can derail the healthy train. But when she does? She goes all out. Case in point: When the cute guy brings out three bowls overflowing with yumminess.
My eyes widen and my mouth waters. Mom takes the vanilla and chocolate bowl, and as soon as I reach for the orange ice-cream soda one, my nose is hit with that perfectly delicious scent you only associate with the famous creamsicle.
Just as I take the ice cream bowl from him, my vision starts to blur. I can feel my pulse pounding in my neck, my heart beating erratically. I feel unsteady, like I might faint, so I close my eyes in an attempt to clear my vision—but as soon as I do, I feel even weirder.
The sounds of the ice cream shop disappear. And where it was kind of chilly in the shop, it suddenly feels warm, almost like I can feel the sun hitting my exposed skin. Instead of smelling the sweet treats, like the orange cream soda, I smell something much more earthy.
Something tingles the back of my neck, the sensation crawling up and down my spine. I hear a loud whooshing sound right before a ringing starts. It's so loud that I feel like I might double over from the pain.
My hands come up to cover my ears, but the ringing and whooshing noises stop right before I can reach them. My heart steadies; the tingling down my spine ceases.
Just as suddenly as the weird sensation appeared, it disappears. I blink my eyes open and closed several times to adjust to the bright lights.
“Millie.Millie.”
I look down and realize the bowl I was just holding is now lying upside down on the floor, ice cream scattered across my feet.
“I’m okay.” The words automatically come out of my mouth before I can even register if they’re true or not. My right hand comes up, my fingers grazing the underside of my chin, searching for thethump, thump, thumpthat I know will calm my disoriented nerves.
“What happened?” Mom asks as her eyes scan me from head to toe. She places the two ice cream bowls back down on the counter and leans down to pick up the one on the floor.
“My—my grip must have slipped.”
The guy comes rushing around the counter with a rag and mop. “I’ve got this.” He bends down to wipe up as much as he can. “Lydia will make you another one.”
I quickly bend down to try to help him. I’m surprised to find that the sudden motion doesn’t cause any other symptoms—symptoms that have seemed to disappear into thin air.What the hell was that?
His smile is warm and kind. I feel a twinge of happy nervousness when he looks at me, but it’s nothing like the swarm of butterflies that take flight in my stomach the second Rowan Pierce’s magnetic green eyes find mine.
“I’m sorry about this. I’m such a klutz.”
“Don’t worry about it.” He stands back up and goes about mopping the mess I made. I feel like such an idiot. I don’t know what that was or why I felt so freaking weird, but I’ve been subtly counting the beats of my heart through the pulse point on my wrist, and all seems fine and normal.
Mom grabs my forearm. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look a little pale.”
“I’m fine. I promise. I just lost my grip.” My cheeks heat when I turn around and notice that we’re drawing the attentionof most of the customers in the tiny little shop.How freaking embarrassing.
“Here’s that orange ice-cream soda for ya!” An upbeat girl comes around the counter and hands me the bowl. This must be Lydia.
“Thank you,” I mumble as I take the bowl from her, and Mom grabs the other two. “Can we sit outside?” I ask Mom.
“Of course, honey. Let me just grab some napkins. I’ll meet you out there.”
I hurry toward the exit, ready to sit down and try the delicious-smelling treats without spontaneously combusting from embarrassment.
