The Brightest Star in a Constellation

58: This Must Be the Place

☽ Peter ☽

"What flavour of ice cream do you want?" I ask as I open the freezer door, peering into its contents. A misty cloud of air spins out, cooling me off like the opposite of an exhale of breath on a wintery day. "We have strawberry and vanilla."

Leaning with his hands behind his neck, Evan shrugs. "It doesn't matter. Strawberry, I guess."

"Really?" I grab the tub. "Why?"

He opens it, his eyes glazing over. As he gives me a weak smile, I prepare to duck if he launches the tub at me. "No particular reason. Is this like how picking a certain planet affects my personality?"

"It's nothing like that," I say, pausing for a moment. Evan shoots me a smile, effortlessly rendering me useless. "Okay... maybe it's a bit like that, but only because strawberry is the worst ice cream flavour ever. At least vanilla tastes good."

"But it's so plain!" Evan places one scoop of both flavours into a bowl and sticks the tub back into the freezer, brushing his arm against my chest. I wrap my arms around his waist, and my stomach flips. "Put some chocolate in there, or something."

He searches through the cupboards, guiding me behind him. Filling the bowl with sprinkles and chocolate sauce, he drags me back to the couch and flips backwards onto it.

"Ah, merde," I mutter, reaching for it. "It's already melting."

Evan intertwines his legs with mine. Beside me, the breeze billows through the curtains and a calm warmth sticks to the air. He grabs a spoon and digs into the bowl. "Did you just swear?"

"Huh? Yeah, I did."

"I've never heard you swear before," Evan says, taking another bite. A splotch of fudge sauce dyes his upper lip black. "Am I influencing you?"

"Of course not." I reach over the bowl to wipe the chocolate residue from his mouth. He lifts an eyebrow at me, lowering his legs so that they cradle my sides. "What are you doing?"

"Moving over." He slides closer, broaching the space, and his fingers splay across my arms. The hair on my neck raises and my heartbeat increases as he pulls me down to meet his height.

He slides over the couch cushions and squishes his body next to mine. His lips brush my cheek, and he holds me like it's the first time again.

As he's about to speak, the door opens. My mother returns from outside, and Evan pulls back from me. He's stuck against the leather of the couch, though, and doesn't get far.

My mother slips her gardening gloves in her pocket and heads to the kitchen for a drink of lemonade. "How are you both doing?" she asks.

"Fine," I answer.

Evan shifts uncomfortably against my side and scratches his neck. "Um," he says, stumbling over it, "I'm good."

"Glad to hear it," Mom says. "Want some lemonade? It's fresh."

"I'm good, thanks."

She smiles and heads back outside. The door shuts.

Evan exhales heavily, and his cheeks are flushed bright pink. "Fucking shit."