Page 65 of You Found Me
Emmaline
Oooh, something that’s going to torture you? I’m in.
And here I was, about to offer to buy you ice cream for the trouble…
Emmaline
If I apologize, can we still get some?
Guess you’ll see when I pick you up later.
Sunflower Sundaes is fairly empty seeing as it’s after seven on a weeknight. They make all of their ice cream in house, and it’s become hard to resist stopping in a few times a week. We sit outside at the patio tables since it’s a particularly nice fall night.
Emmaline gets cookies and cream with extra cookies in a sugar cone. While I go with my new favorite, salted caramel with brownie bites. I relay everything my mom said all while she just laughs it up.
“Are you okay with me coming? I won’t go if you don’t want me to. I can even make up some excuse for why I can’t go last minute. But really, I wouldn’t mind getting to know your parents better.”
Nipping that doubt right away, I very quickly say, “Of course. I’d like to show you my hometown and the house I grew up in.”
“Yeah yeah,” she waves me off. “What I’m really after are all the embarrassing pictures I know your mom is bound to show me.”
“I’ll be lucky if she even has the patience to wait twenty minutes before pulling them out.” Emmaline isn’t even looking at me anymore, once again eyeing my ice cream, as she has been since we sat down. “Would you like to try mine?”
She smiles. “I normally don’t love the salted caramel, but I’ve also never thought to add in brownies . . . if you don’t want to share, I can try it the next time I come.”
“No, no. I offered, of course I want to share.”
I lean forward, raising the cone up to her. She attempts to reach for it, but I pull it back, giving a small shake of my head. When I give her a playful smile in retaliation, realization dawns on her gorgeous face and she blushes.
She leans closer, gently licking the ice cream before closing her lips over the top. And fuck me if she doesn’t moan as it touched her tastebuds. Emmaline pulls away, a small smile on her face as she chews on the brownie.
That’s when I notice she’s got a little caramel sauce still on her lip. I wanted to feed her because not only is this erotic, but it’d also show any onlookers that we’re still going strong.
At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
Because as I sit here, staring at her lips, I’m not thinking of anyone or anything else except the needto lick the caramel from her plump lips.
She notices me staring and rather than lean away, she ever so slightly shifts forward. I meet her the rest of the way, placing a soft kiss against her lips. She slowly parts for me, inviting me in for more, and I take the opportunity to suck on her bottom lip.
She tastes like cookies and caramel, but the more I devour, the more it starts to taste ofher.
I pull away and see her eyes are still closed, but also notice her cheeks, and all along the length of her neck is absolutely flushed. Once again, my mind can’t help but wonder if she flushes like this everywhere. She finally opens her eyes, and those already enchanting dark brown eyes are blown wide, resembling the color of fresh coffee, deep and unyielding.
That’s gotta mean something good, right?
She clears her throat before speaking, “You’re really selling this whole boyfriend thing, huh? Maybe once your mom sees us together, we can finally pick a good break-up date.”
I feel my body freeze. Maybe I read the situation, or her body language, wrong. But I don’t want to lose her from my life completely, so I go along with what she wants. This was always about her happiness and safety. “You know me,” I shrug, playing it cool. “Maybe after we come back from my parents.”
She gives a small nod then goes back to eating her ice cream.
We sit in somewhat comfortable silence, finishing our sweet treats. I catch her staring at me a couple of times and it takes all I have not to smirk at her. I never want to come across as this unbearably cocky guy, because I never want her to compare me to her douchebag ex. It’s just . . . when she looks at me that way, I want to claim her as mine.
Which is insane since this isn’t real—as she kindly reminded us both a few minutes ago. So, for the life of me, I can’t figure out why she keeps looking at me like that.
I realize that I’ve been looking at her for too long, and I stand. “Are you ready for the game tomorrow?” Reaching out my hand to help her out of her seat.
There’s a look that passes over her face before she answers, “I am. I actually really enjoy football. Partly because of the atmosphere, mostly for the food,” she teases. “Honestly, any sporting event.”
