Ice Cream

Chapter 20 – Melting Walls

The next morning, the little bell above the ice cream shop’s door jingled as Lily slipped inside, hair still damp from her shower, the faint scent of strawberry shampoo trailing with her. It was early—earlier than her usual shift—but she couldn’t help it. Sleep had been elusive, her mind tangled up with Ethan’s silence from the night before.

He was already there, of course. Ethan always seemed to beat everyone to the shop, sleeves rolled up, hands busy with some quiet task. Today it was restocking cones, his movements precise, like he needed order in his world.

“Morning,” Lily greeted, sliding her bag behind the counter.

Ethan glanced up, and something softened in his eyes when he saw her. Not the practiced smirk he often wore, not the teasing spark, but something gentler. “You’re early.”

She shrugged, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “Couldn’t sleep. Thought I’d beat the rush.”

“The rush doesn’t start for another three hours,” he deadpanned, but there was the faintest twitch of amusement at the corner of his mouth.

They worked in silence for a while, the kind of silence that wasn’t heavy but charged. Every sound—the clink of scoops, the soft hum of the refrigerator, even their footsteps—seemed amplified.

Finally, Lily broke it. “About last night…”

Ethan stiffened almost imperceptibly, his hand tightening around the metal scoop. “You don’t have to—”

“No,” she cut in, surprising herself with the firmness in her voice. “I want to. You don’t let people take care of you much, do you?”

He blinked, caught off guard. Then, after a pause, he muttered, “Doesn’t usually go well.”

Lily’s heart tugged. She wanted to ask—Why? What happened to you, Ethan?—but instead, she kept her tone light. “Well, lucky for you, I’m stubborn. You’ll just have to get used to it.”

That earned her a real smile, small but genuine. “Stubborn, huh? That tracks.”

They fell back into rhythm, but the air between them felt warmer now, like something invisible had shifted. Lily noticed the way his hand brushed hers when he passed her a stack of napkins, lingering just a moment too long. She noticed the way his eyes flicked toward her whenever he thought she wasn’t looking.

When the shop finally opened, a handful of early customers trickled in—kids with their parents, a pair of joggers craving smoothies, an elderly man who ordered the same mint chocolate chip every week. It was routine, yet Lily felt hyper-aware of Ethan’s presence beside her, every laugh they shared, every inside joke whispered over the counter.

At one point, a little girl stood on tiptoe to reach the counter, her eyes wide as she pointed at the rainbow sprinkles. Lila bent down to scoop some into her cup, but her hand slipped, sending a cascade of colorful sugar across the counter.

“Oh no,” she groaned, grabbing for napkins.

Before she could clean it, Ethan was there, brushing sprinkles into his palm with a smirk. “Smooth move, rookie.”

She narrowed her eyes playfully. “Don’t you dare.”

But he did. He tossed a handful of sprinkles at her, a rainbow explosion against her shirt.

Her gasp echoed through the shop, and then she retaliated, flicking a spoonful back at him. The little girl giggled, her mom laughing along as Ethan and Lila launched into a full-on sprinkle skirmish behind the counter.

By the time their manager poked her head in from the back, both were dusted in sugar and laughter, cheeks flushed from the silliness.

“Are you two five?” their manager sighed, though there was amusement in her voice. “Clean up and get back to work.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Ethan replied, giving a mock salute, his hair peppered with sprinkles.

When the customers finally left, the shop quiet again, Ethan leaned closer, lowering his voice. “You’ve got some—” He reached out, brushing a sprinkle from her cheek with his thumb. His touch lingered longer than necessary, his eyes searching hers.

Lily froze, breath catching. For a heartbeat, the world narrowed to just that—his thumb against her skin, the warmth in his gaze, the almost-moment between them.

But then he pulled back, clearing his throat. “All clean.”

She forced a laugh, though her pulse was racing. “Thanks.”

The rest of the shift passed in a blur, but when it ended, Ethan surprised her. Instead of his usual, casual “see you later,” he asked, “Want to grab something to eat? Not ice cream—real food.”

Her heart skipped. “Like… dinner?”

He smirked. “More like late lunch. Don’t get ahead of yourself.” But there was a softness behind the tease, like he wanted it to be more.

They ended up at a little diner a few blocks away, the kind with checkered floors and faded red booths. Over burgers and fries, their conversation flowed more easily than ever before.

Lily told him about her dream to see the world, about how she wanted to write about the places she’d travel—the colors, the people, the food. Ethan listened intently, asking questions, his chin propped on his hand like he could picture every detail.

When she asked about him, he hesitated, then admitted, “I don’t think about the future much. Not past… surviving today. But sometimes I wonder if I could make something with my hands. Fix things. Build, maybe. Feels… solid.”

It wasn’t much, but it was more than he’d shared before. Lily held onto it, treasuring the glimpse into the quieter corners of his mind.

By the time they left the diner, the sky was painted in pinks and golds, the first stars blinking awake. They walked side by side, not touching, but close enough that their hands brushed every now and then.

Lily glanced up at him, the fading light softening his sharp edges. “You know, Ethan, for someone who claims he doesn’t think about the future, you’re doing a terrible job convincing me.”

He looked down at her, something unreadable in his eyes. “Maybe you make it easier to imagine one.”

The words hung between them, heavy and fragile. Before she could respond, he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked away, as if embarrassed by his own honesty.

But Lily didn’t need to press. She knew. And in that moment, under the twilight sky, she felt the walls around him melting—slowly, stubbornly, but undeniably.