He tapped the seat next to him. ‘Sit on this side so we can people-watch and everyone can see how amazing our ice-cream is.’
In the middle of the table was the most impressive sundae I’d ever seen. Swirls of pink and white ice-cream, adorned with flaked almonds, cream and chocolate sauce, all topped with a juicy strawberry.
‘You’ve got a good memory,’ I said.
He nodded. ‘Except now you’re going to tell me strawberry’s not your favourite anymore.’
‘Well, I didn’t want to mention it...’
His smile faltered for a moment, but I couldn’t keep up the ruse.
‘It’s still my favourite, Si. And you’re right, it looks amazing.’
I sat down on his right and he handed me a long spoon. ‘Formadame.’ He watched me as I brought a spoonful of ice-cream to my mouth.
‘Is it good?’
I swallowed and shivered. ‘Delicious.’
I was absolutely talking about the ice-cream, and not at all about how the low sunlight streaming through the window picked out the gold gleam of his stubble. It didn’t help when he licked his bottom lip and raised his eyebrows. ‘Let’s see if you’re right.’
He attacked the other side with his own spoon, taking a huge mouthful. He closed his eyes and when he swallowed his Adam’s apple bobbed in a way that wasobscene. I could have watched him eat all day.
He snapped his eyes open. ‘God, I feel eleven. Remember when you dared me to eat three Cornettos in a row?’
I forced my mind back to eleven-year-old Simon, who didn’t have quite such distracting stubble.
Mum had bought a six-pack because we were expecting my cousins, but they’d cancelled, and she’d given three to Simon to take home to share with his parents. Instead, I’d timed him to see how fast he could polish off all three.
‘I thought that would have put you off ice-cream for life,’ I said.
‘How boring would that be?’
‘They’re not as nice as they used to be,’ I said. ‘Cornettos, I mean. They’ve made them smaller, and there’s no chocolate sauce on the strawberry ones anymore.’
‘No chocolate sauce?’ Simon shook his head in disgust as if I’d just reported a human rights violation. Then he took his spoon, scooped a layer of sauce from his side and drizzled it onto mine. I watched the chocolate trickle down the pink and white ice-cream.
‘No one should be without chocolate sauce.’
Oh God, how did he make that sound sexual? Is there alcohol in this?!
His phone rang and when he glanced at his screen he grimaced. ‘I’m so sorry, Frix, I’ve got to take this.’
Simon dropped his napkin onto the table and stood. ‘I’ll be right back – don’t eat it all without me.’
As he walked out of the restaurant, I touched the back of my hand to my cheek. It was searing hot, like I’d drunk a bottle of wine. What was wrong with me?
I took a mouthful of ice-cream and closed my eyes. The cold helped. The only problem was, I had no appetite. After another couple of half-hearted spoonfuls, I took out my phone to distract myself. I was scrolling down my emails when Simon returned.
‘Everything okay?’ I asked.
He grinned. ‘It was my mom. Can you believe she was concerned that I hadn’t texted to say I’d landed safely?’
I could, because my parents were huge worrywarts, although Dad had recently downloaded a flight tracker app so I’d stopped gettingthatphone call at least.
‘How is Sandy?’ I asked.
Simon’s grin grew wider. His mum’s name was Jenny, but when we were kids he’d convinced me that her real name was Sandy. This was just after I’d made him watchGrease. His dad’s name was Danny and he claimed the movie was based on their lives, but that his mum had changed her name to Jenny because she was fed up of all the questions.
