Ice Cream

Chapter 17 – Late-Night Texts

The glow of her phone lit up Lily’s room in soft blue, casting shadows over the posters on her wall and the half-open journal resting on her nightstand. It was just past midnight, the kind of hour where thoughts came unfiltered and hearts felt a little braver.

She had tossed and turned, tried reading, even put her headphones on to drown herself in music, but her mind kept circling back to Ethan — his smile under the carnival lights, the way he’d leaned closer on the Ferris wheel, his voice lower when he’d asked about her dreams.

Her phone buzzed.

Ethan: You still awake?

Her lips curved before she even realized it. She propped herself up against her pillows and typed back.

Lily: Maybe. Depends who’s asking.

The typing dots appeared, then disappeared, then appeared again. Finally:

Ethan: Smart girl. I’m asking. So… can’t sleep?

She hesitated. She could play it cool, joke it off. But there was something about the quiet of the night, the fact that no one else was around, that made honesty easier.

Lily: Yeah. My brain’s too loud tonight.

A pause. Then his reply popped up almost immediately.

Ethan: Same. Mine never shuts up either.

Lily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, as if he could see her. She wanted to ask what kept him awake, what kind of thoughts chased him in the dark. Before she could, another message came.

Ethan: So… if you could eat only one ice cream flavor for the rest of your life, what would it be?

Lily laughed quietly, shaking her head. Leave it to Ethan to turn midnight confessions into something light.

Lily: That’s cruel. Only one?

Ethan: Yup. Life or death situation.

Lily: Then vanilla bean. Classic. You can dress it up or keep it simple.

Ethan: Safe choice. Figures.

Lily: Oh, and yours is going to be soooo bold, huh?

Ethan: Rocky road. Obviously.

Lily: Of course. Tough guy on the outside, marshmallow inside.

She held her breath after sending it, worried she’d crossed some invisible line. But then her phone buzzed again.

Ethan: …You’re not wrong.

Her chest tightened, softer now. The banter melted into something else, something warmer.

Lily: Do your thoughts keep you up a lot?

There was a long pause this time, enough that she wondered if she’d said too much. Then, finally:

Ethan: Yeah. Some nights more than others. It’s easier when someone distracts me though.

Her heart skipped.

Lily: Glad to be of service, then.

Ethan: You’re better than service. You’re like… surprise sprinkles. Unexpected. Sweet. Makes everything better.

Lily bit her lip, reading it twice, then a third time. No one had ever said something like that to her — simple, playful, yet threaded with meaning.

Lily: Careful, Ethan. You’re starting to sound poetic.

Ethan: Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.

She smiled into the glow of her screen. The clock ticked later, but neither of them seemed to care.

Ethan: Do you ever think about… where you’ll be in five years?

The question startled her. She hugged her knees, thinking.

Lily: Sometimes. I want to travel. Maybe Paris. Maybe Tokyo. Just… not be stuck in one place forever.

Ethan: I can see that. You’d love Paris. You’d try all the pastries. Pretend it’s “research” for your ice cream flavors.

Lily: Guilty. And you? Five years?

There was a long pause again.

Ethan: Hopefully healed. Hopefully better than I am now.

Her fingers hovered over the keyboard. She wanted to ask what he meant — healed from what? But the weight of his words felt fragile, like something she shouldn’t poke too hard at yet.

Instead, she typed:

Lily: Then I’ll root for that. And maybe bring you ice cream along the way.

A beat.

Ethan: You’re dangerous, Lily. You make it sound too easy.

Her chest fluttered. Dangerous. Not in the scary way, but in the way that meant she mattered more to him than he wanted to admit.

The conversation slowed, messages stretching farther apart, but neither of them said goodnight. It was as if ending it would break the thread between them.

Finally, at 1:47 a.m., a last message blinked across her screen.

Ethan: Night, Vanilla Bean.

She smiled into her pillow, heart pounding.

Lily: Goodnight, Rocky Road.

She set the phone down, but sleep didn’t come right away. Instead, she lay awake in the dark, her chest warm and restless, wondering when banter had turned into vulnerability — and what it meant for both of them.