I nodded in agreement. “Good looking.”
Her observation let me know that this late-night ice cream date was a good idea after all. Hopping back in my car, I securedthe package in the passenger seat and pushed forward to the diner.
There were more than a few cars parked in the lot when I pulled in, but Key’s white Maserati was still easy to spot. It was parked in the back of the lot beneath a light pole. As I got closer to it, it didn’t appear as if she was inside. Reversing into the spot next to her, I sent her a text to let her know that I had arrived.
Me: I’m parked next to you with my lights on. You know, in case you inside scoping the scenery out.
I hit send and flashed my headlights twice. The spot I was parked in was easy to see through the front windows of the diner.
Key: I spy wit’ my little eye. Lol. I’m just playin’. Here I come. You like apple pie?
Me: Lol. Yeah.
She gave my message a thumbs up. Seconds later, I could see the front door swing open, and she walked out with a bag in her hand. Key was dressed down in a pair of oversized black sweats and a cropped hoodie. Picking the bag up from the passenger seat as she approached, I unlocked the door. However, she didn’t reach for the door handle when she got to the passenger side.
Taking my seatbelt off, I rolled down the window. “You good, fine ass girl?”
She bent down, leaning into the window. “Yep. I’m just waiting for the man who invited me out to open my door.”
“As you should, Ma,” I agreed, placing the bag on the armrest and stepping out of the car. Walking over to her side, I pulled herby her waist into a hug, like we were familiar enough with one another for me to do so.
She didn’t stop me and laughed softly when I kissed her cheek.
“You bashful now?” I spoke in her ear with my hands still planted on her waist.
“Gangsta has a g in it, Mehki,” she said with a wink.
“And Dada has a d in it. Address me as such.”
I opened the car door, and she slid into the seat, closing it behind herself. Walking back over to my side, I did the same.
“You know… I almost didn’t come,” she admitted once I was in the driver’s seat.
“Bullshit. You were too geeked to tell me that butter pecan was your favorite ice cream. Here you go.” I handed her the cup and a spoon from the bag.
“One sec,” she said, pulling a container from the plastic bag she held and sitting it on the dashboard. “So, I only brought out one slice in case you didn’t like it. But if you do, which I’m sure you will, I’ll go back in and get another one.”
“No need. We can share this.”
“Okay.”
Taking the ice cream from me, she unwrapped it. I had to admit, the butter pecan did look good, but that was as far as I could go with it. I watched as she dug in, taking the first spoonful into her mouth and closing her eyes, moaning like the taste was the best thing on Earth.
“Mmmm.”
“That shit is not that good, shorty.” I laughed, eating my cookies and cream like a regular person.
“I swear it is. Y’all be sleepin’ on this flavor forreal. Meanwhile,” she pointed her spoon at me, “you over there eatin’ that childish ass cookies and cream.”
“Oh, so you do acknowledge that you like a flavor that’s for the elderly who put they teeth in in the morning and take ‘em out at night?”
“Boy, shut up.” She laughed, hitting my shoulder.
We ate in silence for a minute, both finishing our ice cream fairly quick, before moving onto the pie.
“They make this fresh?” I asked, examining the pie once she pulled the lid off of it.
“Every morning,” she confirmed, taking a piece. “Is this your first ice cream date? Or I gotta turn it up a notch, so I can be the best one?”
