Ice Cream

Chapter 9 – Confessions in Ink

Lily sat cross-legged on her bed, the dim glow of her desk lamp casting a soft halo around her journal. The pages already held the shape of her summer: lists of ice cream flavors, sketches of waffle cones, fragments of conversations she’d overheard at the shop. But tonight, the blank page in front of her felt heavier than usual, like it was demanding an answer she wasn’t ready to give.

Her pen hovered above the paper.

She wrote, I don’t know what to do about him.

She stopped, stared at the sentence, and immediately scribbled it out with frustrated loops.

Ethan.

The name pulsed in her chest, making her heart stutter in ways she couldn’t explain. He wasn’t supposed to matter like this—just a coworker, another summer face who’d vanish when September rolled around. But lately, every glance, every word, every touch lingered long after it should have.

Her pen tapped against the page, and then the words spilled out faster than she could control.

Today we closed together again. He teased me about the mop, like always, but there was something softer in the way he stayed to help. It’s weird… he doesn’t have to. He could just clock out, leave me with the mess, but he doesn’t.

She bit her lip, thinking of the way his arm had brushed hers, the way his eyes had flicked to hers for just a second too long before darting away. That silence had been deafening.

It’s not just that he’s funny, or that he makes the long shifts go by faster. It’s the way he notices things. The curl falling into my face. The fact that I don’t like strawberry syrup but I love strawberries. How does he even catch that?

She hesitated, then underlined her next words twice:

I like being noticed by him.

The truth hung on the page like a confession. Lily slammed the journal shut for a second, burying it under a pillow, as if the words were too dangerous to be left exposed. She pressed her palms to her cheeks. She shouldn’t be writing this. She shouldn’t even be thinking this.

Ethan wasn’t… safe. Not in the way Jake had been, all clean-cut smiles and predictable promises. No, Ethan was sharp edges hidden under smirks, tattoos peeking from beneath rolled-up sleeves, and that scar on his arm that hinted at a past she didn’t know but couldn’t stop wondering about.

Her pen found its way back into her hand.

He’s trouble. I can feel it. But then why do I feel safe with him?

The memory of the summer party rose in her mind—the way Ethan had slipped an arm around her when Jake appeared. Protective. Grounding. Without making it a big deal.

She caught herself smiling, then immediately frowned.

This is stupid. It’s just summer. He probably doesn’t even think about me when we’re not working. To him, I’m probably just… some girl scooping ice cream.

Her chest tightened.

But if that were true, why did he look at her like that?

She could still feel it—the way his gaze lingered sometimes, playful and searching all at once, like he was waiting for her to crack. Like he was daring her to see past the walls he kept up.

Her hand trembled as she wrote:

What if I’m not imagining it? What if he feels it too?

She leaned back against the headboard, staring at the ceiling. The fan whirred overhead, but her thoughts were louder.

What if she let herself fall?

The idea was thrilling. Terrifying. A rollercoaster she wasn’t sure she wanted to step on—but couldn’t stop watching from the line.

She opened her journal again, flipping back through older entries. Before Ethan, her summer notes had been ordinary: ice cream recipes, doodles of cones, quotes from books. Now, page after page was filled with his name, his smirk, his words. She hadn’t even realized how much he’d seeped into her life until now.

Her pen scratched again, softer this time, like a secret whispered to the page:

He makes me feel alive in a way I didn’t realize I was missing.

She sat back, exhaling shakily. That was it. The truth, naked and undeniable.

A knock sounded at her door, making her jolt. She scrambled to shove the journal under her pillow just as her mom peeked in.

“Lights out soon, Lily. Big day tomorrow?” her mom asked, smiling.

Lily forced a casual nod. “Yeah. Just… long shifts.”

Her mom gave her a knowing look, like she could read more than Lily wanted her to, before closing the door again.

When the room was quiet once more, Lily retrieved the journal and hugged it to her chest. She wasn’t brave enough to reread what she’d written, not tonight. But she didn’t regret it either. Writing it down made it real—even if only to herself.

Maybe tomorrow she’d be able to look him in the eye and pretend like nothing had changed.

Maybe.

She reached over, clicked off her lamp, and curled under the blankets. But even in the dark, the image of Ethan lingered—the sound of his laugh, the weight of his gaze, the warmth of his hand brushing hers.

And as she drifted off to sleep, her last thought was a whisper she’d never say out loud:

I think I’m falling for him.