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chapter 19



Later that day, I wait in front of the ice cream shop for Cat to arrive. It’s 2:00 in the afternoon, and I stand there, sun on my back, holding my phone and aimlessly refreshing my vlog page. I texted Cat saying to meet me here for her “birthday party,” which, as she correctly pointed out, is really just an excuse for me to eat more ice cream. A damn fine one at that, I might add.

Under my arm I hold the cake I made for her last night, which is now complete with the pictures of her and me I pulled out. I look around for Cat, for her face, her hair, her smile—because seeing her, no matter what, always seems to make my day brighter. She isn’t there, though, and I go back to my phone. People rush by all around me, gossiping and discussing the latest clothing sales and aimlessly swinging their shopping bags as they push past me. Cars rumble by, and the air smells like a mixture of cigarettes and exhaust. Not exactly the most pleasant scent.

But as I move closer to The Icecreamery, the wonderful smell of vanilla ice cream fills my nose. My stomach growls. I need that ice cream.

After a minute, my mind drifts to thinking about Dad and what he said. A part of me feels guilty for turning him down because I know in my heart that he really is trying, but I just can’t let him off like that, like nothing happened. He made my life miserable for over a year and even though he’s changing, I can’t just forgive him all of a sudden. I can’t let him off the hook so easily. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right, especially not after what he did to Mom.

Maybe, one day, I’ll forgive him. But he’ll have to work for it.

I sigh and refresh my phone again. This time, a notification shows—a new comment on my vlog. I frown. It’s from… HarperLikesPizza?

Wait…

But Harper is…

…fake…

Right?

Immediately, I scroll over to the comment, my throat catching, wondering what exactly is going on. When I read over the comment, a breath of relief escapes me. “It’s time to move on from me, O’ Illustrious Sam Green,” it reads. “I hear there’s this hot Cat girl waiting for you in the ice cream shop behind you, too… AND it’s her birthday. You should totally check her out. In fact, she’s so amazing that one could make the argument that she is me.”

I let out a little smile. Cat seriously got me there. I check the time—2:02. Right when Harper always comments. So I let my cheekbones appear, mumble “Goodbye, Harper,” shut my phone, and turn around.

I have a girlfriend to meet.

Cat waves to me through The Icecreamery window, and I jog in after her. Cool air blasts me as I step into the shop, and I hear the familiar hum of freezers everywhere. The wondrous scent of ice cream surrounds me as I walk over to Cat, who is seated in the corner.

The place is quiet for once, with only two squealing toddlers and their mom this time, both on the opposite side of the room. The rest of the shop is just Cat and me.

“Are you Cat, the hot girl I heard I should meet?” I say to her as I approach.

“That I am.” She gets to her feet and touches my shoulder with her hand. “Are you ready for the ice cream of a lifetime, oh wonderfully charismatic stranger?”

“Ummmmm hell yes.”

I take her hand then, and we walk over to the cashier, laughing at each other’s stupidity. “Can I help you?” the same cashier from before asks, recognizing us. I don’t mean to brag, of course, but we’re pretty damn popular in the world of children’s ice cream.

I glance at Cat, who squeezes my hand, and I turn back to the cashier. “Boy could you, Sharon…”

“I’m well aware, West,” Sharon responds, suppressing a little smile.

I quirk my eyebrow and scan the freezer, as if it’s actually a possibility that I’ll choose a different ice cream flavor than always, even though we all know it isn’t.

“I will have your finest vanilla ice cream,” I say at last. “With sprinkles and a cherry and in a kiddy cone, please.”

“And what kind of sprinkles would you like, sir?” she says just to get me going. I can’t help but notice the irony of her calling a sixteen-year-old boy who is ordering a rainbow-sprinkled vanilla ice cream in a kiddy cone “sir.” But I like it anyway.

“Rainbow sprinkles. They are what make the world go ‘round. Literally.”

“I’m well aware. A world without rainbow sprinkles is a world without happiness.”

“Yes!” I say too loudly. Then I turn to Cat. “See, Red Velvet? Someone who gets me!”

Cat rolls her eyes.

“And you?” Sharon asks Cat.

“The same thing,” she says, “but with chocolate sprinkles, please.” She shoots me a look.

“Wow,” I say, feigning a gasp. “No rainbow sprinkles? Some nerve you have there, woman.”

She melodramatically tosses her hair. “I guess you could see I’m feeling gutsy today.”

“Oh really? Is that hot shirtless stranger rubbing off on you?” I ask.

“Maybe so.”

Once the ice cream is done, we pay Sharon, thank her for her “continued support in the children’s ice cream industry,” grab our cones, and sit down. This time, though, Cat does not sit opposite me. She pulls up a chair directly next to mine, nudges my shoulder, and it feels so good to be this close to her.

“Whatcha got there?” Cat says, pointing at the wrapped-up cake under my arm.

“Oh, just the greatest birthday present in the history of the world. No bigs.”

“For me?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

“No, no, of course not. I’m just holding it for a friend.”

She rolls her eyes. “One day, I’m going to be damned for falling in love with someone so weird.”

“And thank god this is not that day.” I slide the present over to her across the table. “Open it,” I say.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. As long as you promise to prepare for badassery.”

Cat laughs a little. “I promise.”

Then, she glances down, tears off the bow, rips apart the striped Harry Potter wrapping paper, and slowly lifts the tinfoil underneath to reveal a giant, chocolate-gummy-worm-Oreo cake with old pictures of us forming a fence around the side.

She covers her mouth with her hand. “West, this is perfect,” she whispers and just stares at the gift. “You are an effing fantastic cook.” She touches her finger to the first photograph, then sifts through all twelve, her mouth curling into a huge grin and her eyes so bright it makes my whole body come to life.

“Oh, I could so kiss you right now,” she continues. Then, she leans closer. “You know. That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all… shall we?”

A flicker of a smile crosses my lips. “Nuh-uh-uh! Not yet.”

“Why not?” she says, clearly amused.

“Because first, ICE CREAM EATING CONTEST!”

Cat shoots me a look. “Fine. But you’re so going down, Ryder.”

“Oh, Red Velvet, we’ll see about that,” I say, giving her my best intimidation face, in which I wave my hand in front of my eyes like I’ve seen wrestlers do. It fails miserably, and she starts cracking up.

“Oh yeah?” she says.

“Oh yeah.”

“Then let’s do this.”

“Yes. Let’s.”

We grab our ice creams at almost the exact same time.

“Ready,” she says, and it’s a total déjà vu moment.

“Set,” I say.

We smile at each other, our eyes locking, leaning toward our ice creams. “GO!!!!!!!!!!”

Immediately, I pounce on the ice cream and eat it so fast my teeth seem to freeze from its coldness. Cat and I get weird looks from all around us, but it’s not like we even care. I keep eating and eating, letting the cool ice cream slide down my throat, watching Cat shove the cone literally at her face, and I find myself suppressing a laugh. Finally, when I pull away from the ice cream, it’s just the cherry left, along with a few splotches of ice cream on the table. Cat has already finished, though, and I laugh when I see the vanilla still smeared across her lips.

She shoots me a look. “I guess I win that,” she says.

“There are no victors here,” I say. “Only me and everyone else.”

There’s a pause, and we both just sit there, squeezing each other’s hands and smiling.

“You know,” Cat says after a few minutes, “it’s funny how love is so complicated and yet sometimes, it’s as simple as your vlog.”

“How so?” I ask, frowning. “Please don’t get overly-sentimental on me, Red Velvet.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well, sometimes love is right in front of you the whole time, even if you don’t realize it. And, like your vlog, all you have to do is click to subscribe.”

I raise my eyebrow. “That’s a terrible a metaphor.”

She laughs. “Dude, I know. I have nothing to say, okay!”

She sighs, and then I look at her—really look at her. She is glowing, like seriously glowing. Her smile makes me smile, her long red hair always manages to take my breath away, and her vanilla ice cream-covered lips just prove to me what a fantastically awesome dork she is.

And I love her.

I really do.

“So about that kiss…?” Cat whispers.

I smile. “Yes,” I breathe, “I’m ready.” Then, I lean in, and I kiss the ice cream off her lips.