Fiction Friday: Ice-Cream Truck

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By Leslie Lindsay 

typewriter(image from http://www.giantrobot.com/news/typewriters-lasting-in-india/attachment/typewriter/

Welcome to another addition of Fiction Friday starring my novel-in-progress.  Okay, “star” is a premature descriptor.  How about white dwarf, instead?  This scene takes place at a drive-in ice cream place like Sonic.  It’s a young-love flashback.  Guy wants girl back.  Let me know what you think.  [Remember, this is an original work of fiction.  Not to be borrowed or stolen without proper credit, and in some cases, moolah]. 

           At that moment Steve reached over to me in the cab of his new truck and placed his hand on my left knee.  An electric zing shot through my body, starting at the place where his large, lean, mechanical hand rested on me, reaching all the way down to my toes, making them tingle, back up through my solar plexus to my head making me feel dizzy and all liquid-y inside.  His touch made me melt, like my oatmeal cookie dough ice cream had.

            I turned to face him but before I could say anything, his hand clasped my right cheek, pulling me into him.  His mouth gently touched my own in a simple, yet intimate kiss. 

            For a moment, it all seemed so right.  Two young college students kissing over ice cream.  I pull away, “Steve, we can’t do this.  You have a girlfriend.  You and I broke up.  Does she know you’re with me?”  I blurted it all out so fast.  I mean what I say, but I couldn’t help wanting more.  But I want more.  I want to continue.  God, I’ve missed him.

             He took a deep breath, “I can break it off with her.  We’re not that serious yet.”

            “But you are!  She’s talking about marriage.” 

            “Well, she is, but I’m not.” 

            “Fair enough.  What are you going to do?”

            “Well, I guess that all depends on you.” 

             I told him I missed him and thought about him, but that I wanted to date other people.  You don’t just run off and marry the first person you’ve ever dated my dad had warned me.  His cautionary tale ran through my mind once again, same as it did when I was contemplating breaking up with Steve just months ago. 

              He pressed me even more, “Annie, look if you want to date other people—how long do you think that’s gonna take?” 

            “I dunno,” My insides all torn up.  I am worried about my exam the next day.  I thought about his girlfriend—which is so not me—and about dating other guys, but at that moment, there was no one.  

           The idea of Steve and his current girlfriend, Beth getting married seemed preposterous to me—he hardly knew her, besides he’s sat right there asking for me to come back. 

            “Annie?  How long?  If there is ever to be ‘us’ again, how long do you think that it’s gonna take?” 

             I sigh, a tear slid down my cheek, I looked up at Steve, his blue eyes bright yet concerned.  I know those eyes.  He reached over and wiped the tear from my cheek with his thumb, “Don’t cry, sweetie.  I don’t want you to cry over this.  I want you to be happy.” 

              I sniffled, my chin quivered and my nose stung.  Before I know knew it, the flood broke and I full out cried.  “Thanks, Steve.  Thanks for wanting me to be happy.  That’s really sweet of you.”  I scratched my head and quickly wiped my eyes, careful to remove the mascara that I am sure is running down my cheeks. 

Thanks for reading.   Happy Weekend, all!

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