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“Mr. Ryker, did you like my poster?” Avery asked next Thursday, after we left the science fair.
“It was interesting,” I replied. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Heather was about to burst out laughing. Interesting was a very generous way to describe the few volcano drawings and pics on the poster. Honestly, some of the projects looked like they were an April Fool’s joke, which was appropriate since it was the first of April.
That prompting was all Avery needed to go into detail about formation of volcanoes and whatnot. Then she switched gears, talking about her upcoming trip to her grandparents’. She was leaving next week for her Easter vacation.
On the way home, we passed an ice-cream parlor.
“Want to go for ice cream?” I asked. Avery practically lit up. Heather narrowed her eyes. She saw right through my tactic. I wiggled my eyebrows, putting an arm around her shoulders, pulling her nearer.
“You’re cheating,” she whispered.
“I know,” I whispered back. But I didn’t know the rules yet, and I planned to play the clueless card for as long as possible.
The ice-cream parlor was full, so we stood in line. It was almost our turn when Heather’s phone rang.
“I’m going outside to take this,” she said.
“Sure.”
“What does your mom usually buy for you?” I asked Avery when we had to order.
“A cone with three scoops,” she answered in one breath.
“Okay. Let’s buy yours.”
Avery was so ecstatic that I couldn’t help grin. Was it really this easy to make kids happy? I’d always thought there was more to it.
Heather joined us just then. Her eyes bulged when she noticed Avery’s cone.
“How much ice cream is that?” she asked.
“Three scoops,” I said. “She said that’s what you usually buy her.”
“Kid-sized scoops.”
I glanced at Avery. “You didn’t tell me that.”
Avery shrugged. “You didn’t ask.”
“Fair enough.”
Heather laughed, pointing to a table. “Wait for us there, Avery. We’ll buy ours and join you.”
Avery practically ran away, as if afraid her ice cream might get confiscated. I took Heather’s hand, pulling her closer to the counter. “What about you?”
“Mango. You?”
“Not really in the mood for ice cream.”
“What do you want instead?”
I didn’t answer. Instead, I ran my fingers lazily up and down her palm, making my intention clear. I wanted her. Heather cleared her throat, but her voice was slightly breathy when she ordered her mango ice cream. Her cheeks were a little flushed. Fuck, I loved seeing her react like this to a simple touch and implication. She was still blushing when we sat next to Avery.
She’d already finished hers, though by her appearance, she’d smeared half on it on her face, her hair, even on her jacket. She was already eyeing Heather’s cup.
“So, Avery, what are your plans with your grandparents?”
“I will play all the time. I have a big room at their house. And they have a huuuuge yard.”
