“You like it.” It's our third cup of ice cream and like I’m pure drunk in it. My mind feels so cold after the first bite. Yummy... who makes this heaven on earth.
“I love it.” He nods and takes a bite from me.
“Hey!”
“What? I want to taste it.” Shaking my head I push his spoon away with my finger.
“Nope, it's mine. You have yours.” He makes a sad face.
“You and Ronald are truly made for each other. He hates sharing which he loves the most.” Yes, I hate him sharing but it's not in my hands.
“You can share your story with me.” My spoon stops in between eating. Cold night and a slap hard feel inside. It's pointless sharing my story with anyone or I thought everyone hurt who listened to me.
“Why do you think there's a story?”
“You stop eating.” Shrugged, I start eating again.
“That
