Waffle Cones (#1)

w a f f l e c o n e s

“It’s always ice cream o’clock somewhere.” – Unknown

P.S. Whoop whoop, thank you guys so much for 10k reads and #19 in Short Story! That’s unbelievable

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Emily gasped as the familiar voice spoke behind her, the words no longer transmitting from the speaker, but straight from its source. Her fingers froze on the fragile glass of the phone as her heart pounded against her chest, magnetized towards the man of her dreams. Fletcher was a statue once his eyes fell upon Emily, the person who occupied his thoughts, the only person who could short-circuit his brain, an angel in disguise. She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.

Once Emily’s surprise had evaporated, a prickly flush crept up her neck. It was just her luck that she looked like death had walloped her over the head with a giant mallet. Her face was mostly bare, freckles highlighted by the summer sun. Her hair was down in natural waves, though some strands stuck out at odd angles, since she forgot to brush them.

“Oh my god,” Emily breathed, her astonished smile growing wider by the second.

Fletcher could only gape, eyes rounder than galleons as he drank in her features. Even though he’d heard her voice over the phone for months, her beauty was the cherry on top of the icing. It stole the air from his lungs, frayed his nerves, consumed his heart. She was carved out of the most beautiful jewels on earth, molded from precious metal. Her gorgeousness radiated both outside and in.

He was referring to her soul, by the way. Not her actual insides. Her blood and guts was a sight Fletcher did not want to see.

The bodice of a blue top clung to her torso, its thin sleeves fluttering in the breeze. Prismatic shapes in every color of the rainbow were reflected in her sunglasses, perched on the crown of her head. Her wrists were adorned with silver bracelets which glinted when they caught the sun. White shorts accentuated her long legs, Converse shoes stained with a soft beige. Fletcher could compliment Emily a thousand times over, but none would be worthy of her casual beauty. He turned from marble to jelly as his knees went weak.

Emily shifted uncomfortably at the attention. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“May I just say that for the record,” Fletcher remarked, a mischievous grin breaking through his wonder, “you are the most gorgeous Sushi goddess my eyes have had the pleasure to see.”

The tension between them broke as Emily drove her fist into his shoulder. Fletcher leaped back with an indignant cry, but Emily was unfazed by the glare he shot her. “You’re an idiot, as far as I can tell,” she retorted.

Less true words had never been spoken. Emily spent the time Fletcher complained about his shoulder to run her eyes down his body, captivated by his handsome features. Pools of melted chocolate and flecks of dried sun formed his eyes, crinkled at the edges with lines of laughter. She was seized with an urge to run her hand through his dark hair.

Her eyes traveled lower to notice that Fletcher was just as attractive from the neck down. Subtle bands of muscle wrapped around his arms, defined by caramel skin which had been kissed by the sun. Emily wondered where the muscle came from, since Fletcher didn’t seem to care about fitness. Maybe they were toned from scooping so much ice cream. She tore her eyes away from his arms to note that Fletcher had a few inches of height on her, so if they hug, her forehead would be near his lips. The perfect position for forehead kisses. Not that she was thinking about that, of course.

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