14.

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"Ice cream?" I ask when I realized what parking lot we were pulling into. Glancing over at the clock I realized I only had another half hour before I had to be home. It was 9.

Dylan nods, pulling into an empty space right by the doors. "Who doesn't love ice cream right?"

I giggle, unbuckling my seatbelt. "Sure, but I thought this place closed at 9?"

"9:30," he corrects me.

The air was cool inside the ice cream shop, and the only person inside was one of the workers. She was younger, I'm guessing somewhere in high school.

She looked up from a notebook she was scribbling something in. Her lips curved into a small as her eyes fell on the boy standing next to me. "Dylan? What are you doing here?"

I quirk an eyebrow up at him. He knows this girl? What town were we in?

"Abby, hey." He smiles at her, his hand brushing against mine as he wrapped his fingers around my own.

Her gaze falls onto mine. A hint of jealousy flashes into her eyes a second before disappearing.

"What can I get for you guys?"

I look up at the menu. All of if looked pretty good to me. "I'll have a snack sized fudge sundae."

The worker, Abby, punched in the order on the register before looking up to Dylan. She raised an eyebrow slightly as if she had a feeling of what he was going to get.

"I'll just have a medium drink."

No ice cream? I narrow my eyes at him. I thought we came here for ice cream.

Abby laughs, "you're the only guy I know who goes to an ice cream shop for a drink and no ice cream." She puts in his order before looking back up. "$5.79 is your total."

Dylan pulls out his wallet, ignoring her comment about not getting any ice cream. He hands her a crisp $10 bill.

I had to agree with her. Why didn't he order any ice cream? It was his idea to come here.

"$4.21 is your change," Abby says, handing him his change as well as the receipt. "You haven't changed a bit."

Dylan takes the money before turning away from her to me; completely blowing off her last comment. "Is fudge sundae your favorite?"

I shrug, taking his cup off the counter that Abby just set out. "I like any and all ice cream."

Dylan smiles, taking his cup from me. "Figured you would be a fan of ice cream."

He turned walking over to the soda.

"Why didn't you get any?" I ask, following behind him. "Who goes to an ice cream shop without getting any ice cream?"

Dylan chuckles, looking at me out of the corner of his eye. "I don't actually like ice cream."

"What?" I laugh, looking around the ice cream shop. "Then why are we here? And you said yourself before we even came in and I quote 'who doesn't like ice cream?'"

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