Scream by Dash Gibbs

Once a week, he stopped by the ice cream shop. He tried to keep the days consistent, it didn't always work. Wednesday was the day he might see her.

It's the same thing, same as it can be after three times: she walks in, orders (the first time it was Sherbet, she kept saying "Sherbet" over and over, the next time it as mint chocolate chip, the last time was mint chocolate chip, so good it must have been a repeat).

And he stares but tries not to stare. She's beyond cute. It's pretty, but with some kind of...something else. It's not that she's inelegant, she's just… bouncy. She moves, she bobs, she weaves. Sometimes it might be gliding but that could be the sugar rush turning into brain freeze. And her heels…

He missed Wednesday. Thursday he went anyway. Mostly for her, but the August special was really good.

The line spilled outside. Summer heat and humidity and six more days of projected heat and humidity causes some lines at the ice cream shop. Making his way through the line, he got a stool at the front window.

She wasn't there. Ice cream fills in for many things, but doesn't make up for the lack of a stolen glance. Or really long stare. …those heels…

"I've seen you here before," she said. He turned his head, she was beside him. She must have been in line behind him, or off to the side or…

"I don't know you could avoid ice cream on a day like today," she said. He smiled.

"…yeah, it's just too hot to move, much less move without ice cream," he said.

They laughed. "What did you go with today?" she said.

"Ah, I went classic: vanilla," he said.

"You didn't strike me as too 'vanilla,' she said. "I thought 'That guy, he's at least combining some flavors. On a really dangerous day he probably gets nuts AND sprinkles,'" she said.

He laughed. "Thursdays I don't have to jump out of too many planes. What did you get?" he said, pointing to her cone.

"I went with mint chocolate chip. I've gotten it the last few times I've stopped in, I try to go with what I want, and right now I want this," she said.

"You've got some on you," she said. He laughed. Wiping his finger on a napkin, he said "You would think I'm new to things melting."

"Really? Like ice cream? Hearts? Hot embers held against you?" she said.

"Ha, yes, all those things…"

She extend her finger, frowning. "I've got mint chocolate chip where it's not supposed to be. Get it off."

He laughed.

She tilted her head, smiling. "Get it off," she said. "Now."

He stared down at her finger, then looked back up to her, puzzled. Leaning forward, he took a napkin from the napkin holder.

"Hm-mm. No," she said, wagging her finger. "No napkin."

He looked at his rolled up shirt sleeved, and laughed. She shook her head.

She extended her finger towards him. "Get. It. Off."

He swallowed. His chest expanded, his face went flush. Leaning forward, he paused, looking around the shop. Everyone seemed caught up in their lives, caught up in a moment. He looked back at her finger.

Leaning forward, he brought his mouth closer to her finger. She smiled.

"Lips," she said.

He hesitated. She turned her head, raising both eyebrows. He looked down at her finger again, the small drops of ice cream sliding down from her finger to meet her palm.

Puckering his lips, he met her finger. He pressed his lips with little pressure, tasting mint. She smiled. "Good boy." Flush, he shifted on the stool a little, adjusting his shirt at the waist.

Careful not to touch his tongue to her finger, he worked around the drip, taking the mint chocolate chip ice cream into his mouth, mixing it with the traces of vanilla.

He brought his head back. She held up her finger. "Clean," she said, rotating the finger. He let out a breath. Ice cream does not immediately cool things down, lesson learned.

She leaned in, her head facing just over his shoulder. "If I see you again, you'll have to be a little faster to do what you're asked," she said.

She gave his shoulder a quick pat, smiled, and walked towards the door. He turned to see her go, wiped his forehead, and glanced down at her heels.