Chapter 10: ***Crashing a Party***

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Chapter 10

“You know, you sound like Brian’s jealous little girlfriends. Will you two please stop it already?” Aaron begged us.

“Jealous?” Emma glared at Aaron. “We are his friends. We care about him. Something you obviously don’t, otherwise you would be concerned as well. Come on! Rachel? Asking Brian out on a date tonight? Can’t you smell it? It stinks. It stinks like… like… rotten eggs! Even worse. Like the world championship of rotten eggs!”

Aaron raised his eyebrows in disbelief. “The world championship of rotten eggs?”

“What we are trying to say is that it stinks,” I helped Em out. “Very much so. Period. Brian is not exactly the type of guy Rachel is usually dating. If you call making out with as many jocks as possible dating. And if only a third of the rumors are true… let’s not even go there.” I shuddered. “And why hadn’t she asked him a couple of days earlier? She surely is invited to Julie’s party, so why would she want to have a date with Brian tonight? And why did Brian –“

“Two chocolate sundaes, one strawberry sundae,” announced the waitress who had appeared at our table, interrupting my little rant. “Here you go. Enjoy!”

Oh, delicious sweet cold piece of heaven!

I admired the masterpiece standing in front of me. Pure perfection. And it was mine.

There is no better place to get a chocolate sundae than Roma, our favorite café which offers a huge variety of coffee and desserts of all kinds. It is famous for its sensational home-made ice cream and its very creative cake creations, despite its rather uncreative name. We were after all in Rome, New Jersey; there are at least one boutique and the arcade which have chosen the exact same name. There really should be a law against it. It is very confusing if you don’t specify at which Roma exactly you plan to meet your friends. I learned that the hard way in middle school when Emma’s dad dropped us off at the café, but Dinah, Erin and some other girls were actually at the arcade. Em and I made the best out of it, ordered some ice cream and ever since, we have been regulars.

And although I can’t even begin to count how many times we have been sitting right here at our favorite table in the corner, relishing the tastiest milky cold sensation that is Roma’s ice cream, it is always even better than I remember. Way better. It never disappoints.

I licked my lips, twirling my chocolate sundae slowly in a full circle. Just the way I like it. The perfect amount of whipped cream, chocolate sauce lines running down along the sides of the white soft topping, sprinkles sprinkled at all the right places and a Swiss chocolate truffle filled with a soft milky cream on top. Life can’t possibly get any better than that.

Suddenly a spoon from across the table intruded my vision and dipped into my perfect whipped cream mountain before I could do anything against it.

“Hey!” I leaned forward and slapped Aaron. Hard. “Why did you do that? You have the exact same thing standing right in front of you!”

“You know what they say: the ice cream always tastes better on the other side.” He grinned at me. Bastard. “Oh, come on. Don’t pout. You were spaced out again, not answering, and that is the only proven method to get you out of it.”

I looked at my sundae again. Ruined. Violated. Not by my own doing. So unfair.

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