Relying On Ben and Jerry (Waltham #1)

Chapter Thirty-Six: Something to Rely On

Quinton wouldn’t tell me where we were going, but when he finally pulled me to a stop on the sidewalk, grinning like he was obviously a genius, I didn’t expect to be standing in front of . . . an ice cream shop.

I looked at him with wide eyes and wondered if telling him he was my soul mate might scare him off.

“So I didn’t know if you would want to go to Pinkberry,” he confessed, wincing. He looked down and shifted nervously, obviously misunderstanding my look of obvious destiny for being a look of Really? Ice cream? “I know it’s kind of lame, so if you want to go anywhere else, we’re in Harvard Square . . .”

I giggled and rolled my eyes, reaching out and taking his hand so I could pull him to the shop. He stumbled but I didn’t slow down, just kept laughing and pulling him behind me. I tugged the door open and towed him inside, his laugh echoing in the shop around us and that was enough to make me smile. I turned around and felt the goofy grin on my face that pretty much came with anything ice cream. He smiled down at me, his shoulders relaxing as I stopped us in line, hesitating before I kept hold of his hand. He gripped my fingers back like he would never let go.

“I love ice cream,” I told him unnecessarily as I stared excitedly at the menu, a giant grin breaking out over my face. “Like, a lot. Even more than air.”

He laughed. “I heard.”

I was going to let that slide for a moment before it really hit me what he said. I turned my head toward him, frowning. “Wait, what?”

“I got some advice,” he said slowly, turning pink and looking away from me, up at the menu. His hand squeezed my fingers, silently telling me to drop it, but now I was way too curious. I stared him down, waiting for him to look at me, but he was as stubborn as I was sometimes.

“Advice?” I demanded, flabbergasted. “From who?”

He muttered something so low and fast that I couldn’t even hear him.

“Come again?”

He sighed, looking embarrassed and about twenty times more adorable. “I asked all of your friends,” he breathed out quickly, flinching and still avoiding my gaze. “Including that weird girl from Florida. Aubrey. She kind of scared me.”

“Wait, you talked to Aubrey?” I asked him, my eyes wide. He glanced over at me, grimacing, obviously thinking he did something wrong, but that all depended on one thing. “What did she say?”

“Other than that ice cream is a fail-proof way into your heart?” he asked, his lips turning up slightly in the corners. “She told me I had nice arms. And that I should take you sailing. She said something about whipped cream, too, but I had no idea what she was talking about at that point.”

I groaned.

Damn you, Aubrey.

Damn you.

“Why?” Quinton asked as we inched another spot up to the counter, one person away. “Are you mad?”

“Not at you,” I said, and then sighed. “Aubrey is crazy. I recommend not speaking to her unless it’s deathly important.”

“Yeah,” he said cautiously, grinning again, this time in extreme amusement. “So did you really almost kill your principal at homecoming last year?”

“That was a total accident,” I replied, turning bright red. “I didn’t see him; I nearly hip-checked the guy off a balcony. I swear it wasn’t on purpose.”

Quinton was still laughing when we got up to the counter.

I ordered this chocolate and peanut butter thing with syrup, sprinkles, and pieces of waffle. Quinton got nearly a scoop of everything.