Page 5 of Scoop Me Up
As I loaded my two gallon-sized ice cream containers into the freezer alongside the other contestants’ containers, I sighed. Itwasnice, being surrounded by such a loving, close-knit community, but what I really wanted was a relationship. I wanted to fall in love and to be loved in return. It felt a little like everyone was falling in love around me and I didn’t know if I’d ever get that lucky.
Don’t be dramatic,I chided myself.I’ll find someone someday, and if not, there’s nothing wrong with being alone.It wasn’t like anyone was everreallyalone in Maplewood, anyway.
Once my ice cream was secure, I watched the drag queens practice for a bit longer before wandering around the town square for a little while, saying hello to just about everyone I saw.
By the time I’d made it back around to the community center, Drake was there, acting as emcee and announcing the flavor contest to kick off the ice cream festivities. Judges were seated behind a long table that was covered with a classic red and white checkered tablecloth and the emcee explained the rules.
Drake stood proudly in front of the growing crowd. Even at nine in the morning, the ice cream festival was well-attended. “Each of the five judges will taste every flavor and assign one point to their favorite, with each judge getting a single vote. There will also be an audience voting portion, and your votes will collectively be worth one point. In the event of a tie, Mayor Axlerod will choose the winner, which will be announced tonight just before the fireworks show. Now, are you ready for some samples?”
The crowd cheered and Drake stepped aside. From a tented-off space nearby, a half dozen people emerged, pushing carts loaded with little sample cups of ice cream. One person steered their cart to the judges’ table and placed samples in front of each judge before heading into the crowd. I frowned and counted—there were seven sample cups per judge, which was odd.Last week they told me there were only six entrants this year.
Before I could think too deeply about it, a little girl’s voice rang out. “Daddy, that’s my teacher! Mix!”
I put on my best teacher's smile and looked around for the girl, whose voice I recognized. As I scanned the crowd, my gaze landed on someone I’d never noticed in town before, holding her hand. She was a girl from my second-grade class, a part of the school’s summer camp initiative for students with learning difficulties. Ellie was waving frantically, her eyes wide and her smile genuine. The guy, who was wearing a dark blue shirt with lemons all over it, had short reddish hair, a strong jaw, and a winning smile to match his daughter’s. For a second, Ipractically forgot how to breathe. My heart thudded in my chest and I blinked a few times to refocus.
“Not now, Bug,” her dad said. “I’m sure your teacher is enjoying summer break without being surrounded by kids.”
“Come on, Daddy.” She tugged his hand, pulling him toward me. A moment later, they stopped in front of me.
“It’s okay,” I offered. “She’s in my summer class. Right, Ellie?” When she nodded, I smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Ellie’s dad.”
“It’s Gabe,” he said with a self-conscious chuckle, extending his hand to shake. “Gabe Winslow. I take it you already know Ellie, Mr.…”
“Mix, Daddy.”
He looked at Ellie and then back at me, brow furrowing in confusion again. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m non-binary. My students call me Mix. It’s like mister or miss, just not gender specific. But you can call me Sam.” I shook his hand, and for a second, it felt like he didn’t want to let go, the handshake lasting just a touch longer than necessary, his fingers gripping my hand, heat coursing through me.
“Got it. My ex-wife's sibling is non-binary, too. What are your pronouns?”
“They/them. Yours?” I was touched that he’d asked. Sometimes outsiders to Maplewood didn’t live up to the openness and acceptance of the rest of the town.
“He/him.” There was a silence between us for a moment as our gazes locked on one another. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from his. There was something about the sparkle in his green eyes that wouldn’t let me look anywhere else. After a moment, Gabe cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck, smiling and looking a little shy. If I didn’t know better, the look on his face would’ve told me he was attracted to me. But that couldn’t be possible. I couldn’t get that lucky even in my dreams.
“Mix,” Ellie said, breaking the moment. “Do you want to taste my ice cream?”
I tore my gaze away from Gabe’s and looked down at Ellie. “Did you enter the flavor contest?”
“Daddy helped me. We madeso muchice cream.”
“Yeah,” Gabe said. “Two gallons is a lot more than you’d think it would be.”
I laughed, thinking of just how much milk I’d gone through getting my flavor perfected and creating the final batch. “Tell me about it. I can’t believe how many times I had to go buy another gallon of milk.”
“You entered?” Gabe asked.
“I did.”
Ellie tugged at my hand to get my attention. “What flavor did you make, Mix?”
“Fig, walnut, and tamarind, with a little maple for sweetness.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Sounds weird.”
“Ellie,” Gabe chastised. “You know better. Be polite.”
“It’s fine. Honesty is an important quality, right?”
