piece. “One piece of advice was to wait five days,” I huff out. “Five days is equivalent to a year.” She laughs. “It also said not to ask you out again. But that shit was too late since we’re going for ice cream.”
“So you basically just made your own rule book.” She chews a piece of chicken.
I put my fork down. “I’ve never been in this position before.”
“The one where the girls don’t text you back?” she asks, not making eye contact as she scoots the food around her plate.
“I mean, yes and no,” I tell her. “I’ve never had to jump through hoops.”
She pushes away from the counter and takes her plate with her, tossing half of it in the garbage. “No one is asking you to jump through hoops.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “I didn’t ask you to come over here.”
I look at her now, trying to read her. “Oh, trust me, I know.” I finish eating my plate. “I like this.”
“Me glaring at you while you eat the dinner I made for myself?” she says, and I clap my hands, laughing.
“This,” I say, pointing at her and then at me. “And for the record, I want to jump through hoops for you.” I see her shield come down just a bit. “Now, can I please take you for ice cream?”
“I’m lactose intolerant,” she fires back with attitude.
“Really?” I say. I fold my arms over my chest, knowing full well she’s lying. “So if I get up right now and look in your fridge, I won’t find ice cream?”
“Um,” she starts, and then I can see her thinking of an excuse. “It’s for when Ari comes over.”
I laugh. “At Ari’s birthday party, you ate a piece of cake.” I point out, not mentioning how I watched her from across the room.
“Okay and?” She looks at me, not sure where I am going with all this information.
“Gorgeous”—I laugh—“it was ice cream cake.” I see her mouth hang open in surprise. “Now, can you please go get some pants on so I can take you to get some ice cream?”
“Okay, fine.” She pushes away from the counter. “But for the record, I found out I was lactose intolerant after that party.”
“They have sorbet,” I tell her as she walks away from me, and I watch her ass.
“Stop watching me, pervert!” she shouts, and I laugh. Getting up, I walk over to the sink, then rinse off our plates and load the dishwasher.
“Okay, fine, I’m ready,” she huffs, and I look over and see her wearing tight jeans with the same tank top, but she’s wrapped a sweater over her shoulders.
“You look gorgeous,” I tell her, and she shakes her head, making me laugh. “It’s going to be fucking amazing.”
I walk toward the door and hear her. “What is going to be amazing?”
Stopping at the door, I turn, and when she almost bumps into me, my hands grasp her hips to steady her. The only lights are coming from the kitchen. I bend my head and lean close to her. “When you finally let me kiss you,” I say in a whisper. “Now, let’s get going. I don’t want to keep you out too late and have you come up with another excuse for why I can’t see you tomorrow.” I turn and unlock the door, my hands and body itching to hold her hand in mine, but I have to go slow and not jump in feet first.
“I’m busy tomorrow,” she says before I open the car door for her.
“Obviously,” I say, and she laughs.
“I have no idea what to do with you,” she says right before she gets into the car.
“Good,” I tell her. “Because I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing with me either.” I close the door and head over to the driver’s seat.
After starting the car, I make my way over to the ice cream parlor I frequent. I’m surprised to see so many people there. I get out, and I’m not even five steps from the car before someone notices me. “Fuck,” I say to myself when she gets out of the car.
“You ready?” I ask, and she nods. We walk toward the door when someone calls my name, and I look over. The blonde is there with three friends. I smile and pick up my hand to wave.
I walk another couple of steps, and the same blonde comes over to us. “Can I have a picture?” she asks, and