The lilt of the music echoed throughout the street as cars whizzed by, drivers widening their eyes at the big pink truck. A giant ice cream cone was mounted on top of the van, causing all eyes to be drawn to the vehicle. Oliver huffed, rolling his eyes and tapping on the steering wheel. This was the worst summer job ever.
No one even bought ice cream anymore. People were too busy going off on their summer adventures--just going and going and going until they hardly had time to stand still. For the past few weeks, all he had done was pull over to the side of a nearby street and wait for anyone to come up to the side of the truck.
No one ever did.
Then, all of a sudden, he heard laughter. Warm chuckles floated into the air and rung in the atmosphere, mingling with the sound of high-pitched giggling. Lazily, he drew his eyes in the direction of the noise. Oliver's eyes widened when he caught sight of the one person he did not want to see. A sigh of disbelief fell from his parted lips.
"Shit," he spat.
Carson Katsaros. His dirty blonde hair fell messily over his forehead and his hazel eyes glinted mischievously. His forehead was coated in a faint sheen of sweat due to the heat, but his lips were stretched into a wide grin. His hands were tucked in the pockets of his navy knee-length khaki shorts, and his white quarter-sleeve shirt pressed into the hard ridges and planes of muscle on his body. He strolled casually down the street with a group of his usual friends--two girls and two other boys that Oliver did not know the names of, but figured he had probably seen around school. Oliver's heartbeat sped up. Carson was the epitome of laid back.
And Oliver was the epitome of in love with him.
Carson could not see Oliver here, in this bright pink ice cream truck, wearing a stupid hat, with his stupid baggy shirt and his stupid grey sweatpants that stupid Oliver had decided to wear in the dead of summer.
Oliver was quite sure that if that happened, he would die of embarrassment.
He should've worn the work uniform he was given. It still looked dumb, but it was better than the pajamas he was wearing right now. On any other person, his pajamas might have looked cool, attractive even, but Oliver was tall and slender with ebony skin--he didn't have an ounce of muscle on him.
And today was the day of all days where Oliver had decided to screw the rules. He didn't particularly care about this job, so he hadn't particularly cared if he was fired.
Stupid fucking pink ice cream truck.
Oliver scowled and slid lower into the driver's seat, hoping to be hidden from view. He kept a close eye on the group of friends.
Then, one of the girls--Oliver thought her name was Claire, but he had never cared enough to pay attention--spotted the truck and squealed.
Oliver cursed fervently under his breath.
The girl, grinning, yelled, "Guys! Look! An ice cream truck! Oh my gosh, I would kill for some ice cream right now.... it's so hot out here."
Oliver gritted his teeth and murmured "fuck my life" in the safety of his truck.
She tugged on one guy's hand--Holden, possibly? Hayden?
"Babe, please? Let's go get some ice cream! Come on, guys!" she whined.
Oliver sighed in resignation, already knowing that this annoying girl would get her annoying friends to come over to this stupid little truck to get some fucking ice cream. "Please," Oliver pleaded, looking at the sky, "please don't do this to me right now."
The boy shrugged. "Yeah, sure, okay. What about you guys, do you want anything?"
It was just Oliver's luck that everybody in their stupid fucking friend group--with the exception of Carson, who had just shrugged--had wanted ice cream. The annoying girl skipped over to the truck and walked over to the side of it, knocking on the glass. Her friends were close behind. "Hello?" she chirped.
Oliver deadpanned, taking a deep breath and wishing for death. He stood up, annoyance embedded in every fiber of his tense frame. His lungs constricted, a lump forming in his throat. He walked over to the window and slid it open. "How may I help you?" he asked, his voice steady and devoid of emotion.
If there was anything that Oliver was good at, it was being an asshole, no matter the feelings stirring in his chest.
The girl's friends had all crowded around the window. Luckily, Carson was looking at his phone. The girl smiled cheerily. Oliver hated her. "Yeah! Can I have a chocolate chip ice cream sandwich?"
Oliver sighed, eyes darting nervously to the faces of all of the strangers. His palms began to sweat. "I would say no, but it's my job, so whatever," he drawled in the same steady tone that masked his nervousness. The other girl snickered. "Anyone else?"
"Hey, do I know you?" Oliver froze. His eyes were wide and blue, and for once, an emotion appeared on his face--horror. The voice was Carson--who was coincidentally the last person Oliver had wanted to talk to. Oliver tilted his head forward, letting his messy, curly black hair hide a portion of his face. "Weren't you in one of my classes or something?" Carson asked. He gave Oliver a once over, and stared at him, his head cocked to the side adorably, his hair falling into his eyes.
Yes, yes he was. He was in Carson's AP Chemistry class last year. He sat exactly two rows behind him. Oliver could tell you exactly what Carson was wearing on the last day of school, but he couldn't tell you anything that he'd learned in that class. He had barely managed to pass with a decent grade, and he had gotten hell for it from his parents.
But honestly, they couldn't expect him to pay attention to chemistry when the only chemistry that was occurring were all the love hormones that were being released in his brain every time he looked at Carson.
Shit, was that chemistry?
It didn't matter. It would never matter; Carson didn't know who Oliver was. Carson was on the swim team--and a hell of a good swimmer. He was so good, in fact, that he got put on the varsity team as a sophomore. The word was that he was aiming to get assigned team captain this year as a junior, and Oliver had no doubt that he would. He was intelligent, funny and kind and-
Oliver was none of these things.
He wasn't funny--his humor consisted of sarcastic remarks that most people take offense to. He wasn't athletic--instead, he played guitar when he was bored, and liked watching dumb cartoons like Tom and Jerry. People had told him he was smart before, but he wasn't smart enough to be considered smart--maybe above average at best. And he was nowhere near kind.
Oliver had no idea how Carson had recognized him, but his palms tingled with nerves, blood pounding in his ears. "Uh, no, no I don't think I've ever seen you before in my life." he lied. "Anyone else want ice cream?" Oliver did his best to change the topic, hoping to distract Carson from talking to him again, lest he says something incredibly idiotic.
Oliver noticed how his detached tone had suddenly turned nervous, a slight tremor taking over. Fucking hell. One look at Carson freaking Katsaros and Oliver was a mess. If he had to stand here any longer, he would become even more of a blubbering, dumb disaster.
Holden (or whatever the fuck this guy was named) slung a tan arm around Carson's shoulder. "What do you mean you don't know who he is? Have you seen the news, dude? This is Carson Katsaros. As in, the Carson Katsaros."
Oliver rolled his eyes without knowing he had rolled his eyes. "Congradu-fucking-lations. Are you his hype man, or something?"
Carson laughed--another warm chuckle--and Oliver's heart stopped beating. He paused, a smile still on his face, and asked, "Are you sure I don't know you? You do seem kind of familiar. Like maybe I know-" he paused, "Wait a second. I do know you. Your name is...Oliver, right? Yeah, I know you. You were that kid that cursed our AP Chemistry teacher out when she tried to make you read out loud." He chuckled again.
Oliver's heart seized in his chest, feeling himself begin to fall apart at the seams.
Carson Katsaros knew him--albeit, it wasn't on fantastic terms, but it didn't matter. The boy that made Oliver's palms sweat and his heart thud and his breath to cease knew of him.
An indistinguishable rosy hue made its way across Oliver's cheeks. He smiled tightly. "Yeah, I guess that's me."
Carson smiled and waved. "I'm Carson Katsaros." Oliver definitely knew that. He turned to his friends. "I don't know if you know these guys though. This is Holden Acosta, and Claire Nguyen and-"
"So, ice cream?" Oliver interrupted, his voice pinched and awkward. If he had to spend one more second in his presence he would voluntarily stand in front of moving traffic.
Carson blinked, unused to being cut off. He recovered swiftly, as usual. "Sorry, I don't have any money on me right now," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck boyishly. Oliver could see the freckles dotting Carson's nose and his cheeks.
"It's free." Oliver blurted out.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck.
The ice cream was most certainly not free.
With all of the anxiety coursing through his veins, he had basically given away five free ice creams--which was money out of his already pretty much nonexistent salary.
Shit-fuck.
Carson's eyes brightened. "Cool! Can I get an Oreo ice cream sandwich?" he asked pleasantly.
The rest of his friends all piped up at the same time, giving Oliver their orders in one cacophonic mess.
Oliver was feeling a growing migraine coming on.
Stupid fucking freckles.
***
Carson walked away, biting into his cold ice cream, feeling slightly guilty. A part of him was suspicious that it was actually free--the boy had a panicked look on his face once he'd brought it up--yet he had given it to them anyway. For no reason whatsoever.
A smile ran across Carson's face. That was nice of him, he thought. And then, a different thought appeared in his head, causing his smile to morph into a frown.
What if he got fired because of this? Because of Carson and his friends?
He would be a horrible person if he let that happen. He couldn't just let this guy get fired. Besides, the boy seemed nice enough.
Carson thought about what Oliver had said to Claire, and then Holden.
Okay, so he wasn't super polite, but he had given them all free ice cream on one of the summer's hottest days out of the kindness of his heart. That had to count for something.
"Holden?" he asked, "Do you have a twenty dollar bill?"
"For what?"
"Do you or not?" Carson pressed.
Holden held his Batman ice cream in one hand and used the other to dig his wallet from his pocket, flipping it open with his thumb, "Yeah, why?" he asked again.
"To pay Oliver."
"Who?"
"The ice cream guy."
"But it was free ice cream," Holden argued.
Carson grabbed Holden's wallet, taking out a twenty dollar bill and giving it back to him. "Thanks, anyway!" Carson told him, laughing slightly. He sprinted back to the truck, which was still in the same spot as it was before.
"The ice cream probably didn't even cost twenty dollars!" Holden called after Carson. Carson ignored him and Holden turned back to the rest of their friends with a sigh, all of whom had been watching the exchange with amused expressions.
Carson ran up to the side of the truck and tapped on the glass. After a few moments, Oliver appeared. A bored look was plastered on his face. When his eyes met Carson's however, he'd straightened up, the same anxious and slightly embarrassed look popping up on his face like last time.
Carson handed him the twenty dollar bill with a smile. "For the ice cream. Keep the change. Thanks, though." Oliver's lips curled up into a weak smile, a slightly dazed expression crossing over his face. Carson didn't think that Oliver smiled very often, but he knew that it looked nice when he did. "Thanks, Oliver," he said again.
Carson turned around, walking back to his friends, oblivious to the dizzying thoughts rushing through Oliver's mind.
---
A/N: And it has begun! You've met the two main characters already (Oliver & Carson.) How do you feel about them? I hope you've enjoyed, and another chapter is coming soon! Xoxo,A Shadowhunter Wannabe,herondaledevices <3