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Nash drifts off a little, his attention straying as he listens to the radio and low murmurs of Marisol and Theo talking.
The car takes an unexpected turn, and he pops up just as the ice cream shop comes into view. Shifting his gaze up to Marisol, a softness overtakes her face as she throws him a playful wink.
Surveying the shop, he can see Melody now. She and Max are sitting on a bench outside. She is licking her ice cream slowly, listening and nodding to whatever Max is saying.
In reality, they are not sitting too closely, but it was still way too close for him. He can't help but hone in on her mouth, pink tongue peeking through, giving that cone a very thorough lick. He wants that tongue on him so bad.
She had a bit of ice cream on the tip of her nose, and all he could think about was licking it off her. Abruptly invading his daydream, however, Max brought his hand up. Using his thumb, he cleared off the ice cream from the tip of Melody's nose and then put his thumb to his mouth to clean it off.
Melody is looking at him with a flush to her cheeks, indicating her embarrassment, or was it arousal? Did she like it? Watching Max lick her ice cream off his finger. A murderous feeling overtakes him. Unfamiliar and unwanted, his body is on fire. He can feel eyes on him. Marisol is just watching him, watching the emotions flit across his face: all the emotions, Every. Single. One of them.
"Let's get out of here, Mari, please."
Melody
____________________
Ice cream was nice. Max was nice.
The whole date was just nice. He did not elicit any particular feelings in her, at least not the type of feelings she gets with Nash. It was all just nice. Even the weather was nice, not too hot, not too cold as they sat on the bench outside.
See? Nice.
They talked about him mostly, how he had to drop out of college after a semester to take care of his ailing mother. She had dementia and was degrading pretty quickly.
He had a fascinating story. It was actually quite nice, there’s that word again, to sit and talk to him without anyone trying to push them together. Maybe if they had met another time, another place, things could be different. She lets herself consider this.
Consider him.
He wasn't too forward and didn't try to put his hands on her. Well, unless you count the nose thing, but it was probably just a reflex. The damn ice cream shop didn't have napkins! What kind of ice cream place doesn't have napkins?
After a beat of awkward silence, she begins to fidget in her seat, watching the clock on her phone as the minutes tick by. She tempers the urge to tell him it was time to go. He drove them, so it didn't feel right to rush him, but she missed Nash.
She missed his face.
Her phone dings. Speak of the devil.
Nash: It looks like Max enjoyed your ice cream.
What the hell? My ice cream? Melody frowns down at her phone.
Melody: If you are asking me if I enjoyed my ice cream? The answer is yes.
Melody: It was strawberry.
Nash: He touched you, Melody.
Melody: I don't understand. Are you watching me?
She looked around, almost hopeful that Nash was there, ready to jump out of the bushes and fuck her on this bench.
Wait, no. Where did that come from?
Nash: Yes, I was watching.
A slow smile curls over her face.
Melody: You should have said something. I would have given you something to see.
