Ice cream

The days were quickly growing colder and John was continuously harassed by the butterflies in his stomach and the voice started to say things like “Ask her out. Not later, NOW. The longer you wait the more likely that someone will beat you to it.” And whenever he saw her the voice screamed “NOW”, and the butterflies swarmed.

But John clenched his fists and whispered, “Not yet. Wait.”

Finally, one night there was a raffle and John won a gift certificate to the ice cream shop around the corner. The next day it was warm, maybe the last balmy day before winter, and John went down to Emma’s room after class to invite her to come get an ice cream cone with him. It was the perfect excuse. Girls always fall in love with boys who buy ice cream for them. 

When he knocked on her door the butterflies burst into flames and the voice said “No one saw you, now is your chance, run, RUN.” But John stood his ground. Emma’s smile would soothe the burning. 

A moment passed, maybe two, maybe two and a half. John was just about to knock a second time when Emma answered.

“Oh, hey, John! What’s up?”

“Heyyy. . .” John’s voice died in his throat, smothered by the realization that behind her, on the bed, there was a man with a shaved head and small eyes who glared suspiciously back at him.

Emma caught his gaze and stepped back, “Oh, this is Rex, my boyfriend.” 

Rex. Her boyfriend. John remained composed, but felt butterflies tear in half inside him. 

“Rex, this is my friend, John, from down the hall.”

Rex lifted his chin in acknowledgement. He was wearing a tight white t-shirt and grey cargo shorts. 

“What do you need, John?”

John’s brain filled up with excuses, “Uh, have you seen my grey hat? I think I left it in the cafeteria yesterday after lunch.”

Emma giggled, plucking the hat off his head, “This grey hat?”

John took it from her, “Mystery solved!” He yelped, over-enthusiastically before backing out of the room quickly. John limped back to his room and sank into his desk chair. He felt the stillness where the butterflies had been and the silence where the voice had stopped screaming inside of him. In an instant, every sweet memory of the way Emma looked at John every day on the other side of the lunch table was replaced by the way she looked at Rex, one hip cocked, head tilted slightly to one side, left hand buried in her hair. All those glorious visions of what could be were replaced by grotesque mental images of all the things Rex and Emma probably did, might not do, but probably did. And the “maybe they didn’t”’s that the voice kept whispering inside John’s chest weren’t enough to keep the pain away.

John knew this shouldn’t hurt. Emma was still his friend, nothing had changed. But the hope was gone. John spent three hours trying to convince himself that he didn’t need the hope. When five o’clock rolled around he was sick of saying no to himself. The voice, who had been silent all this time, finally rejoined the conversation. “Surrender is sweet,” it said, “You don’t owe her anything.”

But after the initial damage had been done there was a ruckus out in the hallway. Startled, John dropped his blade, pulled the sleeve of his sweatshirt down and stepped out into the hallway. 

On the opposite side of the hall there was a girl banging on the door and yelling curses. When John opened his door she stopped and turned to look at him. She looked embarrassed, smoothed her hair down. 

“Hi, uhm, sorry, I’m locked out.” There was a pause, “Can I use your bathroom? I really need to pee.”

John nodded, “Oh, yea, sure.” 

“Thanks,” She smiled, she had long, thin burgundy hair and thick, dark makeup around her eyes, “I’m Kylie by the way.”

“I’m John.” John held the door open for her and sat in his desk chair. He was sweating and shaking. After a few moments he heard Kylie call his name from behind the bathroom door, tinged with concern, overtop of the water running.

“Yea?” John came closer to the door and Kylie opened it.

“Uhm, there’s kind of a lot of blood in this sink.” She looked alarmed, John was scared. He tried to look surprised as he peered around the corner at the sink. There was perhaps a table spoon of blood, pooled in the bottom of the sink, just thick enough not to drain by itself.   “Holy s**t, that’s, uh, wow. . . Sorry about that.” John stammered, feigning shock. “I cut myself shaving.” He placed one shaking hand on the cold metal knob of the sink and rinsed it down. 

Kylie looked less than convinced by his story, but dried her hands and collected her things. She was standing in the doorway ready to leave when she suddenly stopped, turning and coming toward John and quickly yanking up his sleeve. John winced, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I knew it.”

John’s eyes snapped open again, prompted by the note of excitement in her voice. 

“You’re a bad liar.”

There was an inch between them, Kylie turned his wrist toward her, not the way Emma would have, roughly. “These are bad.” She purred. She ran two fingers through the trail of blood there, then raised them to her lips and licked them clean. 

John felt light-headed, Kylie kissed him and he tasted his own blood on her lips. Something knocked him backward onto his bed, maybe Kylie or maybe the shock he felt at the way she touched him and the way he reacted to her touch. As layers of clothing were shed John remembered his first time, after prom with Leslie Frendor. All he seemed to recall about the encounter was the nervous feeling in the pit of his stomach and the self-conscious shaking, though. This was different. Kylie was aggressive, wild, all hips and heavy breathing, he didn't have much time to dwell on the past or worry about his inevitable mistakes. John tried to focus, on an image, on a thought, anything, but everything kept moving, her hair her lips, her breasts. His brain couldn’t keep up. 

When it was over, John could not have told you how long it lasted, Kylie fell next to him in the bed, sideways as one must when one shares a twin bed. 

“Wow.” He felt her chest rise against him, “That was really s****y.” She sounded breathless, “You don’t have a girlfriend, do you?”

“No.” John said. 

“Thank God, me either. I promise I’ve never done anything like that before.”

John closed his eyes, stroked the soft skin of one of her shoulders and felt the warmth in his chest. After a moment, he propped himself up on his arm, sensing that this moment had great potential. “Since you’re locked out, do you wanna’ go get an ice cream cone?”

Kylie laughed, “Sure.” 

Author's Note

sorry if chapter breaks are awkward, it's just not cut up in a very balanced way.
I know, only me, right? I'll be the first to admit this chapter is weird.