Bloom

16. dripping blueness

Details.

I wondered how, I wondered why.

"What will you have, Ittarah?" Zephaniah asked again, this time with a frown on his face.

"None of your business. I know you. Once I tell you what I'm going to have, you'll tell me you want it too so you don't need to order," Tara rolled her eyes, shoving him away.

Zephaniah's cheeks flushed pink, his expression turning rather shy, or ashamed, perhaps both. "No, Tara." He said softly, shaking his head.

"Yes, Zephaniah. I know you longer than today. Order yourself, how old are you? Does your daddy still order your meals at a restaurant too?" Tara pinched his cheek, Zephaniah slapping her arm away, huffing.

It was quiet for a while, the line moving closer to the ice cream displayed next to the counter with the cashier.

"Tara, do you want the- the blue ice cream?" Zephaniah asked, his voice soft, yet manly.

"No, Zeph, gosh. Leave me alone," she pushed him away and glared at him, to which Zephaniah simply shrugged. "What is up with you?"

"I- I do not know how to pronounce that," Zephaniah whispered with a frown on his face, pointing at the blue looking ice cream.

"I don't know either, Zeph. Just point at it, they'll understand. If necessary you call it smurfs ice cream, just like you did when we were little, I don't care, save yourself this time." Tara walked over to the counter and quickly told her order, so Zephaniah had no chance of her ordering his ice cream as well.

Zephaniah visibly gulped and stared at the ice cream, suddenly getting a total black out. He turned his flushed face towards me, "You, uhm, can go," he stammered out, fiddling with his fingers.

"Zeph," I said, not realising I used his nickname, "You wanted the blue one, yeah? Just point at it, it's okay." I whispered softly, repeating Tara's words, but, in a nice way.

Zephaniah glanced at the woman behind the counter, a somewhat annoyed expression visible on her face. He quickly pointed at the blue ice cream, the woman placing her scoop in the right gallon. "You want a cone or a paper cup?"

"Uhm," Zephaniah's cheeks turned even redder, "a cone, please." He said politely, pushing his fringe away from his eyes as he intensely watched how the woman scooped the blue cream on his cone.

"You're welcome, enjoy your ice cream." She said, giving him a short smile.

Zephaniah quickly walked away, my heart clenched for some reasons. Once I had ordered my strawberry ice cream, I searched for Tara, Norah, and the rest of the study group and sat down in the grass.

It was quiet for a while, the eight of us silently enjoying our ice creams. Zephaniah was absently playing with blades of grass, staring at it while slowly licking the blueness in his cone.

Luke, Louis and Abel were chatting about a soccer match from last night, Tara and Norah about the latest episode of Riverdale, something I didn't follow.

I felt bad for Zephaniah as he truly seemed upset minutes ago, so, I scooted closer and decided for a small talk. "How was the pizza with your mum?" I asked, remembering what Hannah had said at the library.

Zephaniah looked up and briefly glanced at me, the left corner of his mouth curling up slightly. "Good. Margherita, without to-tomatoes, though."

"Yeah, why?" I wondered, smiling as he seemed to not mind a conversation for once.

"Do not like when they are warm," he mumbled, plucking more grass. "Texture is just weird,"

I listened in amusement, trying to figure him out. "I see. I don't really like them warm either. They taste less good. Was it fun with your mum?"