Total pages in book: 124
Estimated words: 117415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 117415 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 587(@200wpm)___ 470(@250wpm)___ 391(@300wpm)
“I know you’re not the sixteen-year-old you once were,” he goes on. “You’re not just a kid who wants extra cash anymore, I get it.” He sighs and chuckles at the same time. “I can’t help but look at you and still see the bright-eyed teenager who pops in at any hour I need him. I’m sure you’ve got better things to do with your summer than scoop ice cream and give away extra toppings.”
I’m about to insist yet again that I’m totally available, then stop. “Wait. You know about the extra toppings?”
“I know everything.” He winks.
For half a heartbeat, I wonder if that comment is just about the toppings.
Perhaps I forgot to mention a key detail about Spruce, Texas.
No one here knows I’m gay.
Well, not for sure, at least. Considering how many gay couples this stunning singular small town has lassoed together and how hot and deeply the gossip train runs around here, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise at all if I came out. I’m certain there’s a club of ladies at the church placing bets on whose team I play for. Nadine Strong herself is probably chomping at the bit, ready to play that matchmaker game she so desperately needs to give up.
Oh. I just remembered I told Cole Harding last year.
Fine, one person knows for sure. But no one other than him. Oh, and my banana plushie named Banano I’ve had since I was six and a half and no one even knows exists.
“And it’s fine with me,” Billy insists, “just as long as it keeps bringin’ in those loyal, lovin’ customers.”
Present thoughts considered, I have to think for a hot second before realizing he is talking about the giving-out-extra-toppings thing and not actually implying that my semi-secret gayness is a customer draw. “Thank you for your forgiveness.”
“Oh, did I forgive you?” he teases, then nudges me in the ribs. “Kidding. So you’re free to help out? I just got this new POS system installed last week. Jimmy and Bobby use it over at their Fitness Zone and … I cannot get my head around it. Startin’ to think POS stands for piece-of-shit, not point-of-sale. Swear I feel a hundred years old and I’m barely thirty.”
I frown. “Aren’t you thirty-two?”
“And in denial. Good to have you back, Teej.” He struts away humming a tune, then peers over his shoulder. “You coming?”
I see my mom’s disapproving stare. Hear her questioning tone of voice. Feel the stifling spot in my dad’s office I haven’t seen yet.
The next second, I’m jogging after him, and together, we head across the street and into the charming T&S’s, where I welcome its sugary aromas that are as familiar to me as home.
After playing around with it for a literal minute, I figure out Billy’s POS system, get him up to speed (comparing it to making playlists on Spotify, of all things), and make suggestions on how to organize the POS to make it easier to ring up customers. Billy spills an idea he has for rearranging the layout of the store, which I’m totally onboard with after a teensy adjustment to the lighting. “What would I do without you?” he asks. “You’re brilliant!”
“You almost did do without me,” I point out as I reach for the cup of sampling spoons on the counter—and realize I did not mean for that to slip out.
Then I go and tip over said cup all over the floor.
“For the love of licorice!” I curse at myself, then come around to clean up my mess, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” I hate wasting things, even tiny sampling spoons. Some went under the counter.
Billy crouches down next to me a moment later to help. “Um, what’d you mean by that?”
“By what?” I ask. “I hate licorice, but want to love it someday, so I’m sorta training myself to not be so quick to dismiss—”
“Not that. The other thing. Were you not planning on comin’ home this summer?”
“I … I wasn’t meaning …” I start to laugh uncomfortably. Why am I laughing uncomfortably? I never laugh uncomfortably. “I was just … my dad, uh …” I stretch an arm underneath the counter.
“Did you have other plans? Do your parents need you?”
I rise up so fast, I bonk my head. “Ouch! No.” I emerge with three dusty spoons wormed between my fingers, rubbing the back of my head with my other hand. “They don’t need me. I’m a big boy, y’know? I can do … I can do what I want with my summer. It’s my summer, after all. Didn’t I earn a summer? They’re just fine. Business is all fine. Dad’s fine. Mom’s fine. I’m totally fucking fine.”
Billy stares back at me unblinkingly. Did I just do that thing where I talk at the speed of light and my voice cracks eight times?