Chapter 36
Josephine
“We should order ten ice cream cones each, just to stick it to Decker,” I muse, surveying the menu tacked to the siding of the ice cream hut.
A blast of cold air and that ice cream shop smell—sugar and artificial sweetness—wafts out from the order window as a young kid slouches against the counter, waiting for us to step up.
“Go easy on him, Jojo.” Kendrick squeezes my hip. “He wasn’t trying to be a dick, whipping out his credit card and blowing us off like that. He’s got a lot on his mind.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Just because he wasn’t trying to be a dick doesn’t mean he wasn’t acting like a dick. Whatever.
“I’m at least getting an add-on,” I declare, perusing the menu of fifty-cent options, debating about whether I want chocolate coating, fudge drizzle, or sprinkles.
“Oh. They’ve got vegan fro-yo and non-dairy whipped cream. I’m ordering a banana split with extra nuts,” Locke announces.
I snort. “That sounds more like a fruit salad than a treat, Emo Boy.”
He gives me one of those dazzling Nicky smiles and winks. “True. But I know just what to lick if I’m craving something sweet later.”
“Hey-yo,” Kendrick murmurs.
I elbow him in the stomach and shoot a glare at Locke.
“Order one for me, too,” Kendrick tells him. “We’re still early in the season. Gotta make good choices.”
I let the nutrition bros step up to the counter and slink back so I’m shoulder to shoulder with Kylian.
“What are you getting?”
“Vanilla,” he replies without any preamble.
“Just vanilla?” I tease.
The irony. Between his dirty mouth and his lack of inhibitions when he’s sharing me with his friends, Kylian is anything but vanilla.
“Just vanilla.”
I loop my arm through his and tug him toward the counter. “You should at least get an add-on. Ooh. Get sprinkles!”
He cocks one brow and looks down his nose at me like I’m delusional. “I’ll do no such thing.”
I fight back a grin, love drunk, sun kissed, and a little punchy after my encounter with Decker.
“But I love sprinkles,” I murmur in his ear, rubbing up against his bicep.
“Then you should get them,” he encourages, rapping the fingers of his free hand on the chipped blue countertop while we wait for the employee to come back and take our order.
“Kyl.”
He side-eyes me under his glasses, then turns to face me completely once he sees my smirk.
“We could share,” I suggest. “Your vanilla covered in my sprinkles?” I push my tits out for emphasis, just in case he needs a little more context.
“No.”
Denied.
With a huff, I stick my lip out, teasing him with a pout.
“It’s a texture thing,” he explains. “Sprinkles are pervasive, especially when paired with soft serve. I don’t stand a chance of taking a bite without getting one in my mouth.”
Affection blossoms in my chest. I should have known. “So sprinkles are the sand of the ice cream world?”
“Exactly.”
The kid working the counter comes back with Kendrick’s and Locke’s orders and slides open the partition to dole them out.
“Bro,” Locke calls to Kylian as Kendrick takes the bowls and napkins. “Get the damn sprinkles. She’s not being direct enough,” he explains. “But with the way she’s looking at you right now, I bet she’ll lick them off you. All of them. Anywhere you put them.”
The kid behind the counter drops the spoons he’s holding out to Kendrick and sputters out a cough.
Kylian peers at me through his glasses, scanning me up and down. “Is that an accurate assessment of what you had in mind, baby?”
“Maybe.” I smile coyly.
“Black and white, Jo. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I lean in close, emboldened by the other guys’ eyes on me.
Gripping Kylian’s shoulder, I pop up on my toes and bring my lips to his ear.
“I’m thinking we should order an ice cream cone covered in sprinkles so I can smear it all over your cock and lick you clean.
Don’t worry. I’ll find every last sprinkle. I swear.”
Kylian goes rigid, and his spine snaps straight. “Give me the car keys,” he demands of Kendrick before leaning against the counter below the window and hollering, “One soft serve vanilla cone, extra sprinkles!”