A Graveyard Of Stars

I C E C R E A M

I V Y

The bell jingled as I opened the doors to the too-colourful ice cream parlour. Striding purposefully inside, I scanned the area to see if a certain dark haired boy with cognac eyes was here.

Nope, he was not. I was earlier than him.

A sense of satisfaction bloomed in my chest, making me grin smugly to myself.

Hohoho I was earlier.

Casually walking to table right in front of the ice cream display case, I plopped down onto a seat and started discreetly eyeing the ice cream flavours. It's been so long since I treated myself to this sort of stuff.

The pistachio ice cream looked nice. But they had almond fudge too...

Then I saw the cheesecake ice cream, in all its glory, proudly displayed in the display case. I stilled.

Cheesecake.

She loved cheesecake.

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I settled for fiddling with my fingers as I stared down at the table.

Maybe this was a mistake. Coming here was a mistake. I should text Kaden, while he wasn't here yet, and tell him that I felt unwell, which wasn't untrue. But that would mean-

"Hello, Ivy."

I jerked at the sudden intrusion, causing my chair to shift back. A loud screech sounded in the small shop. With flushed cheeks, I pretended not to notice other people's stares as I turned to face the source of that voice.

Plain brown clashed with cognac red.

"Oh uhm er," I was at a loss for words. Kaden, however, did not seem to mind or notice, as he slipped into the seat opposite me. "Hey."

I closed my eyes and facepalmed mentally. Goddamit Ivy, you'd make the best clown ever.

Opening my eyes to glance up at him, I found him studying me. With the bright lighting of the ice cream parlour, his cheekbones seemed even more defined, and with that chiselled jawline...

Holy macamoly, how did I not notice how good-looking he was before?

My eyes widened a little, and my cheeks flushed even more at the thought. I quickly looked away.

Get your shizz together, you buffoon.

His trench coat outfit was back in full force. I furrowed my brows a little in confusion. What caused the sudden change? He seemed to be fine with the bomber jacket the last time we had met. However, his hair was styled messily, which was the only indication of his age.

"Are you... unhappy?" I recognized the question he had asked me instantly. It was the exact same inquiry I had directed at him during our second meeting

"Nope." I replied quickly, while cocking my head to the side. How did he come to this revelation? "Are you?"

He shook his head, and remained silent.