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“You look amazing, honey.”
Brigitte whips the cape gown off me. I finally glance up from the glossy magazine.
“Really?”
It feels weird having short hair. My head feels more lighter and my neck’s terribly exposed. Well, at least I don’t look so much of a freak now. I look half-normal, I guess. I’ll get used to it. My new look makes me look tougher now — like I won’t take any sh!t. Maybe I could get a tattoo on my neck…
“Of course, Ami. I told you we could fix it. Never doubt Brigitte—” Brigitte ruffles my hair.
“I didn’t!”
“Oh yes you did.”
I’ve known Brigitte since I was a ten. She’s had the hots for dad for ages — shame he’s too self-involved to notice. Brigitte is a laugh to be around. She looks ten years younger than thirty-two.
We go outside into the sunshine. Dad’s glumly reading the local papers in the car.
She flicks her shiny hair over her shoulder. “Doesn’t she look gorgeous, Gilles?”
“Hmm.” He turns the page.
“Gilles!”
“What—”
Dad mouth hangs open as he processes my appearance. There’s something akin to nostalgia in his eyes.
“We went for an Audrey Hepburn inspired crop,” Brigitte smiles flirtatiously at him. “Ami can pull it off. She has beautiful bone structure—”
“Gretchen…” He murmurs. A dreamy expression comes over his features as his eyes glide over my face. He’s forgotten about the newspaper; it lies crumpled on his lap. Adoration radiates off him.
The hair stylist noticeably stiffens; she chews the edge her mouth and I vaguely hear a muttered swear word. I wince. Fvck — I look like that b!tch now.
“Bye, Brigitte,” I smile apologetically at her. “Let’s go, Dad.”
I lay my head against the window. With disbelieving eyes, he frequently pauses to glance at me during the car ride.
“I’ll treat you for today,” Dad has a silly grin on his face. “Where would you like to go, baby?”
This is my punishment? I thought I was in the doghouse…
I sigh. “I don’t know.”
“Ice cream parlour?”
“Okay.”
***
“Choose any flavour,” Dad takes out his wallet.
I stare into the display case. My palms are pressed against the glass like a little kid in a sweet shop. A colourful rainbow of ice cream screams “eat me”. My mouth is watering right now—
I want— “Any flavour?”
“Go on.”
Now he’s being “nice” to me? I guess he’s feeling guilty. Well, okay. He did say any flavour. I try to hide an evil grin.
I point to the most expensive flavour — black raspberry cheesecake. “That one.”
“You got it.”
I blink. WHAT?! Dad’s usually tight with the cash. He doesn’t like to splash out on small luxuries. Neapolitan ice cream is the most adventurous flavour he’d have me choose.
We take a table beside the window. People look relaxed and happy as they walk pass. Even their pets look happy. I can almost forget about all of what happened yesterday.
The ice cream guy sets the ice cream bowl in front of me. “On the house, sir.”
Four enormous scoops of creamy raspberry ice cream are piled on top of each other. Dark chocolate sauce is generously drizzled around it, forming the perfect contrast. Chunks of cheesecake are scattered in the ice cream. A mint leaf acts as the garnish. I spoon some ice cream into my mouth and sigh in pleasure — I’m in heaven right now…
“Why?” Dad gives the guy a puzzled smile.
The ice cream guy (or Leo as his name tag states) winks at me. There’s a wicked smile on his face. “A beautiful girl should want for nothing.”
I almost choke on my ice-cream. A blush must be spreading across my cheeks, because Leo’s smile widens. I recover myself and manage to grin cheekily at him. That’s just what I needed to brighten my mood.
Agitated, Dad’s not so pleased. He straightens up in his seat. His shoulders stiffen. “That’s my little girl, young man.”
Much to my amusement, Leo just ignores him. His eyes are still fixed on mine. “Oh, you need napkins?”
I take the napkins quickly before Dad has a chance to explode. On one of them, a number is scrawled in purple ink along with the words “call me”.
Dad reaches out for a napkin and I manage to hide that one from view.
Better not give the old man an early heart attack…
Leo’s kinda cute; he’s got a nice smile. He seems fun to be around. We do a lot of eye-flirting during the course of fifteen minutes.
Maybe he’ll help me forget about the loser that is Coach Horrible. I shouldn’t be obsessing over an engaged guy anyway. He’s made it clear that he doesn't want to know me. Best just to move on.
Dad’s tone is insistent. “You can eat that in the car, Amelie.”
“Dad!”
“I dislike the way that boy’s looking at you. He can’t keep his eyes off—”
I roll my eyes and tut. “Yeah, yeah. I’m going.”
Anything to avoid another bust-up. I just want an easy life now, even if that means being a prisoner in my own home. Sometimes, you just have to shut your mouth and get on with life. No matter how sh!t it is. As we’re leaving the parlour, the ice cream guy playfully blows me a kiss when Dad’s back is turned. Grinning, I catch it.
“Brings back bad memories of going out with Gretchen,” He mutters in the car. His mouth is set in a thin line.
He’s back to being a miserable b@stard, then.
Well, at least I got some orgasmic ice cream out of this. And cute guy attention…
A/N: Please VOTE, COMMENT and SHARE! Thank you! :) Will Amelie call the Ice-cream Guy? What's your favourite ice-cream flavour?