Stupid Cupid

Don't mess with me; I come armed with ice cream

“Well,” I said, grinning, “I can’t turn down ice cream!” Marisol cheered and I stood up, my legs relishing in the relief that the stretching of my muscles gave.

“C’mon, Mari,” Parker said, scooping the four-year-old up easily. He swung her carefully onto his back so that he was giving her a piggy back ride, and then Parker turned to me. “Do you want to see if Thomas wants to come with us?”

“He’s at a friend’s house,” I replied, and I nodded towards the door leading into my house. “Let me just grab my wallet, okay?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Parker said, shaking his head, “My stepmom paid me in advance for babysitting, so I can cover the ice cream.” He gave me a look that told me not to argue with him, and I sighed. I grabbed my phone off of the hood of the Grouch, sent my mom a quick text to tell her where I was going, and then I shoved it in the back pocket of my denim cutoffs.

“Are we walking?” I asked, and Parker nodded. It made sense, since there was an old fashioned ice cream parlor around the corner that made the best homemade ice cream.

I followed Parker and Marisol out of the garage, and as we walked down the sidewalk, Marisol started gabbing about how many My Little Ponies she had, what all their names were, and something called a “Cutie Mark”.

After a few minutes of walking, we reached the ice cream parlor, aptly named ‘The Ice Box’, and I held the door open for Parker and Marisol. As soon as Parker put her down, Marisol rushed to the glass window that displayed all the different flavors of ice cream.

“She’s cute,” I remarked, and Parker snorted.

“You don’t live with her, Reed,” He stated, running a hand through his hair. That’s when I noticed his fingernails were painted bright pink, and I let out a choked laugh. I grabbed his wrist before he could stop me and held his hand up so I could get a better look.

“Did she paint your nails?” I asked, holding in my giggles.

“Um,” Parker’s voice trailed off, and his face turned bright red, and I laughed out loud. “She wouldn’t stop asking me until I let her, okay?” Parker said defensively, which just made me laugh even more.

Marisol bounced back from the ice cream case and started babbling about what kind of ice cream she wanted. The words came so fast at me that I had no idea what she was saying, but Parker was nodding. I was going to assume that he could actually understand her.

We walked up to the ice cream counter, and Parker rattled off Marisol’s order. “Can I get vanilla ice cream in a waffle dish with gummy bears, rainbow sprinkles, and Reese’s Pieces?” Parker said, and Marisol’s eyes got wide as she watched her ice cream being prepared.

“You actually understood what she was saying?” I whispered, and Parker nodded.

“It’s a talent,” he replied with a humble shrug. “Sometimes, I have to translate Marisol-speak for my parents.”

I laughed, and then it was my turn to order ice cream. “Can I get the caramel swirl ice cream, please?” I asked, and the server nodded silently.

“You do realize that’s caramel ice cream with caramel swirls and chocolate covered caramel chunks, right?” Parker asked, raising an eyebrow. I nodded, and he said, “You know, they have places for people like you who need treatment for an addiction.”

“I’m not addicted,” I replied defensively as he ordered some fudge ice cream.

“Denial,” Parker said seriously, “That’s a sign of addiction, Reed.”