Page 74 of Tiny Fractures
His expression softens. “Yeah, I’m fine. Should we go and take Sam and Benny to get ice cream?”
I nod, and we make our way into the living room where, to the absolute jubilation of my little brother and sister, I announce that Ronan is going to take us to get ice cream. We shepherd my siblings into Ronan’s car, and he grabs my hand just as I’m about to hop into the passenger seat, pulling me toward him.
“You have no idea how sorry I am that we don’t ever seem to have time to ourselves,” he whispers, our lips only an inch apart. My eyelids shut, waiting for him to close the last bit of distance and kiss me. He chuckles in a low voice before he gives me what I crave and grazes his lips softly against mine. But it’s not enough; my hunger for him is reawakened, and I part my lips, intensifying our kiss, tasting him on my tongue, wanting to continue where we left off.
“Ew,” Benny whines from the backseat, and Samantha starts giggling.
Ronan and I break apart, and I see my resignation reflected in his eyes. I give him an apologetic smile and a quick kiss on his cheek before I slide into the passenger seat and he closes the door behind me.
***
We drive fifteen minutes to a small Italian gelateria, where Benny’s and Sam’s eyes become huge when they see the variety of ice cream flavors. Despite their tiny statures, each picks two giant scoops of ice cream.
“Could I get a scoop of strawberry?” I ask the girl behind the counter, and she places a perfectly round blob of pink ice cream in a cone for me. “How about you?” I ask Ronan, but he shakes his head. “Wait, don’t you like ice cream?” I ask, my right hand resting on his forearm; I’ll take any chance to have physical contact with him, regardless of how small.
“Not really,” he admits.
I cock my head to the side. I don’t know that I’ve ever met someone who didn’t like ice cream. “Really?” I question as I take my cone from the girl behind the counter. “Oh no you’re not.” I stop Ronan as he’s in the process of paying for the ice cream.
He laughs. “Why not?”
I shake my head vehemently. “Because I’m an independent woman who can pay for her own things. You’re not paying for anyone’s ice cream today, sir!” I pronounce with a grin, and pull some cash out of my jeans pocket and hand it to the girl.
“Oh, okay, sorry Miss Independent,” Ronan laughs while I take my change and shove it into my pocket. Ronan and I wander to the table Benny and Sam are already occupying. The two of them are absolutely devouring their ice cream and I remind them to slow down, but I might as well be speaking Chinese with a cow. I start eating my scoop of strawberry gelato, and it gets quiet for a minute before I feel Ronan’s eyes on me.
“What?” I ask, noting the mischievous grin on his face.
“I have to say, I enjoy watching you eat your ice cream,” he says in a suggestive tone.
But two can play that game. “What, like this?” I sensually lick the melting ice cream off the cone before closing my lips over the scoop, then lick the ice cream off my lips.
Ronan narrows his eyes, his gaze flitting between my eyes and my mouth. “Yeah, like that,” he says, his voice gravelly.
My heart flutters in my chest. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a small taste?” I ask, and take another lick of my strawberry ice cream before I lean into him and part my lips.
He doesn’t need to be asked twice. With his left hand under my chin, he angles my face up before brushing his lips against mine. His tongue carefully enters my mouth as he tastes me, then licks my lips before he pulls back.
“You guys are so gross,” Benny exclaims with chocolate ice cream all over his face.
“Dude, come talk to me again in ten years,” Ronan chuckles, and I watch him take a napkin and wipe Benny’s face clean. I’m so taken aback by Ronan. He is so different from the guys I’ve known before, and certainly a complete one-eighty from Adam.
***
We finish our ice cream and clamber into Ronan’s car. Back at my house, Benny and Sam ransack the kitchen, tear open a bag of chips, and make themselves at home in front of the TV.
“Do you really not like ice cream?” I whisper into Ronan’s ear after I crawl onto the couch next to him.
He wraps his arms around me, pulling me toward him. “No,” he says, his tone neutral. “It’s not something I grew up with.”
I look at him, trying to decipher if he’s joking. “What do you mean? You didn’t eat ice cream as a kid?”
He shakes his head. “No. No ice cream, no candy. It wasn’t really available on my grandparents’ ranch, and here…”
I scan his face. His green eyes are unfocused. “Here what?”
He swallows hard, then seems to snap out of it. He focuses his attention on me and smiles. “My mom just isn’t a fan of junk, so she didn’t let me have it growing up.” Though that’s a perfectly reasonable explanation, I feel like there’s more to his story.
“But wait, I’ve seen Steve eat plenty of junk at Shane’s, and at the movies he definitely chowed down on a huge package of red vines.” I remember Vada joking to me that Steve has even more of a sweet tooth than she does, which is saying a lot.