Harrington 3

Breaking the Rules

I somehow end up back in the back room of the ice cream parlour, lying on the table as Robin tries to decipher the Russian coming from the recorder. I throw a tennis ball up and down, deathly bored while the man drones on about who knows what.

Eventually, I groan.

"We're getting nowhere." I catch the ball and flop my head to the side, watching Robin pace back and forth, deep in thought.

"Shhh," she shushes me, then points at Dustin, "Play that last part again."

He hastily clicks the rewind button, replaying the last section of the message.

I tune them out as Robin starts to decipher the foreign language, actually starting to get some headway. As exciting as it is that we might be uncovering a secret Russian message, I can't help but be too distracted by my encounter with Jonny to get enthused by the situation.

I feel awful for shutting him down like I did. Part of me enjoyed the attention he was giving me, but that could just be because I like attention, not because I still have feelings for him.

I just wish things were like they were. I wish he never cheated. It would make everything so much easier for me. I'm not a big fan of life changing decisions, or just decisions in general. I'd prefer to just go with the flow, but Jonny has caused a riptide in my current. He's making me choose whether or not I want to give him a second chance. Whether or not he deserves one.

I did just shut him down, and you'd think that that would give me closure on the situation, but honestly it's just made everything more difficult. Now he has me second guessing the decisions I do manage to make.

What is this boy doing to me?

After smiling in the little celebration I can give to Robin figuring out our first sentence, which makes barely any sense, by the way, I exit the back room to where Steve is slinging ice cream.

I grab a mini spoon that's usually used for samples and take a giant chunk of chocolate ice cream, much to Steve's annoyance.

"Hey, you gotta pay for that."

"How is that logical?" I ask, mouth full, "Not even customers have to pay for samples."

"Yeah but you do. On account of . . ." He thinks for a bit, then shrugs, "you're stupid."

"I'm stupid?" I laugh, throwing the spoon away and grabbing another, "Tell me Steve, who was the third president?"

He gives me a blank stare, and I grin in victory, scooping a thing of cookie dough and eating it in his face, provoking an eye roll.

"Ask me another, I'll get it."

"Okay." I grin, grabbing yet another spoon, "Second president."

He throws his hands up in defeat, then makes an expression as if a light bulb went off in his head, "Thomas Jefferson!"

I burst into laughter, scooping cotton candy and eating it with a grin, "He was the third, dipshit."

"Damn it," he mutters as I scoop vanilla on my spoon, "Hey, you hate vanilla ice cream."

"I know," I say, a mischievous look befalling my features as I hold the spoon between my fingers and use my other hand to flick it at Steve, the glob of ice cream landing on his cheek.

I burst into another fit of laughter, which quickly cuts off when he tackles me into a headlock, using his free hand to put a scoop into a waffle cone, holding me still as I squirm.

"I surrender! I surrender!" I shout, trying to tug his arm off of me as he holds the ice cream near my face.

"Say I'm smarter than you," he says, threatening me with the cone.