Ice Cream

Chapter 7 – First Sparks

The bell above the shop door jingled faintly, announcing the last straggling customers of the night. Summer dusk painted the windows in warm amber, fading into the deepening blue of evening. Lily wiped her hands on her apron, pretending to be busy with the napkin dispenser as Ethan leaned lazily against the counter, tossing a plastic spoon between his fingers like it was a coin.

“Slow night,” he said, voice low and casual, though his eyes flicked to her. Always watching.

“Slow because you scared half the customers away with your sarcasm,” she shot back, rolling her eyes.

Ethan smirked, that maddeningly perfect smirk. “Please. They love me.”

“Debatable.”

Their exchange was interrupted as the last customer left with a cone, the bell chiming once more before silence settled into the shop. The air-conditioning hummed faintly. Lily glanced at the clock—five more minutes until closing. Her stomach tightened, though she wasn’t sure if it was nerves or anticipation.

She moved to grab the broom, but Ethan beat her to it, intercepting her with an easy stride. Their fingers brushed when he handed it over. The contact was so fleeting, so insignificant, yet it shot through her like a spark catching dry tinder. She froze, the broom awkwardly between them, staring at their hands like it had been a full-on lightning strike.

Ethan noticed. Of course he did. His gaze lingered on her a beat too long, eyes gleaming with that teasing light she was starting to recognize.

“You okay there, Vanilla?” His tone was light, but the corners of his mouth twitched like he was suppressing a grin.

Lily forced herself to look away, clutching the broom as if it could anchor her. “Fine. Totally fine. Don’t you have something better to do than stand there being annoying?”

“Nope,” he said cheerfully, and then—because of course he couldn’t leave it alone—he added, “Besides, you’re kind of fun when you get all flustered.”

Her cheeks heated instantly. She wanted to smack him with the broom handle. Or maybe kiss him. Ugh, no. Definitely broom-smacking.

She busied herself with sweeping, though her hands shook faintly. The bristles scraped across the floor, catching stray sprinkles and cookie crumbs, but all she could think about was the accidental brush of his hand. How ridiculously aware she had been of the warmth of his skin against hers.

Ethan wandered closer, crouching to pick up a dropped napkin. When he rose, their shoulders nearly touched. “You missed a spot,” he murmured.

“I didn’t,” she shot back, but her voice betrayed her—quieter, breathier.

“Oh, you definitely did,” he teased, leaning just slightly into her space. Not enough to be inappropriate. Just enough to make her heart stumble.

She whipped her head toward him, ready to argue, but the words stuck in her throat. His face was inches from hers. Not smiling now, not mocking—just watching, with that infuriatingly unreadable expression. For the first time, she saw him without the mask of smirks and jokes. And it unnerved her more than anything else.

Seconds stretched. Her pulse thundered.

Then, mercifully, Ethan broke the moment with a sudden grin. “Relax, Vanilla. You’re looking at me like I’m about to steal your soul.”

She blinked, the spell broken, and huffed. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet…” he trailed off, his eyes dancing with mischief as he grabbed a rag and began wiping down the counter. “Here you are, working late with me. Must be fate.”

“Or poor scheduling,” she muttered, though a smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

The rest of cleanup passed in a blur of near-misses and lingering glances. Every time their hands brushed while reaching for the same cloth, every time he leaned just a fraction too close, the air seemed to hum with something unspoken. Lily tried to ignore it, tried to bury herself in the routine tasks of stacking chairs and wiping tables, but her body betrayed her—her pulse too fast, her cheeks too warm.

Finally, with the shop spotless, Ethan tossed his rag aside and stretched, his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. Lily caught the glimpse before she could stop herself, and immediately busied herself with locking the register drawer, praying he hadn’t noticed.

He noticed.

“See something you like, Vanilla?” His voice was low, almost lazy, but there was an edge to it—something that sent a shiver down her spine.

She slammed the register shut, refusing to look at him. “In your dreams.”

“Maybe,” he said, and this time, there was no joking smirk—just a faint curve of his lips that felt far more dangerous.

Her heart was still racing when they finally turned off the lights, leaving the shop in shadow. As they stepped outside, the night air wrapped around them—warm, heavy, filled with the faint buzz of crickets. Ethan walked beside her, their arms brushing every so often, each contact a tiny shock.

Neither of them said a word, but the silence was anything but empty. It was charged, alive, brimming with all the things neither dared admit yet.

And Lily, clutching her bag strap like it was a lifeline, realized one terrifying, exhilarating truth:

Something had started tonight. Something she couldn’t sweep away like cookie crumbs.