I thought Ethan meant ice cream in our kitchen or theirs, but he meant at The Float Shoppe in town. We debated taking the bus or the bike, and he won since he made some valid points about bus schedules interfering with after-ice cream options, like walking on the beach and playing games at Game Galaxy. Taking the bike gives us a lot more freedom.

I don't have to be home to cook for Daddy, as he said he'd be grabbing dinner at work and be home much later. He is in the middle of an important project which is at a critical stage right now. I've barely seen him this week. We only had quick check-ins with each other.

I miss him.

So, here I am, standing at the gate, waiting for Ethan and his bike. I've changed into jeans and a pretty floral top with bell-shaped sleeves because when I told Delia that I was going for ice cream with Ethan, she insisted I dress up a bit since this is a date. I explained to her that it was Ethan and I and that our outing didn't constitute a date simply because we were dating, but she just blinked at me as though I were an idiot. Not listening to reason or objections, she plucked the top out of my closet and forced me to take a shower and put it on.

She even did my hair in soft, flouncy layers and made me endure the application of some light makeup. I should've locked myself in my room when she interrupted my phone call with Ethan to tell me she was coming over to deal with me.

I look pretty. I feel stupid looking this pretty. This is dumb. Ethan is going to laugh his head off. Well, hopefully, the motorcycle helmet will mess up my hair, and I'll look less pretty and dumb.

Uncle Ian's grey sedan stops in the street near me, and I'm about to wave at him and tell him that I'm fine when the driver's door opens, and Ethan gets out, running around the front of the car to open the passenger door. He cocks his head, giving me one of his annoyingly indulgent looks as if I'm a little bit slow when I stay where I am, leaning up against the wall next to our gate, simply blinking at him.

"Are you stealing your dad's car?" I ask him, climbing into the vehicle and fastening my seatbelt. Having Ethan act like a gentleman is one of the weirdest things I've experienced this week, and I've experienced many strange things.

"No," he says when he's finally retaking his seat behind the wheel. "My dad told me to take the car because he doesn't want you riding on the back of my bike. I guess he likes you," he adds with a grin, and now I'm feeling extremely uncomfortable.

"He knows about us?" Well, how could he not? Aunt Gemma knows, and Daddy knows... the whole friggin' world knows!

"Yeah, I told him on Saturday just before I went over to your place to hang out with your dad. I also mentioned it to him after you nearly broke your neck to flee out of my room the other night."

I did no such thing!

"Oh, my word! What must he think of me?!"

Ethan chuckles, shaking his head. "That you are a decent girl with a big heart and a sterling reputation and that he'll skin me alive if I hurt you in any way. At least, that's what he told me."

"He did?" Finally, somebody who doesn't think we've been married since fourth grade!

"Yeah, I think he's in the process of writing a 1000-page rule book on what I'm allowed to do and not do. I was tempted to show him our extremely detailed spreadsheet so he can see you already have that covered."

"Does he know that we're just..." I have no idea what to call it because I can barely remember what we're trying to do. My throat constricts, and my heart hurts whenever I even try to think about it.

"Just what?"

"You know." Is he really going to make me say it?

"No, I don't," Ethan says, looking into my eyes for much too long. I'm about to start squirming, and I think I'm starting to sweat now. "He knows we're in a romantic relationship, like Deli and Sy," he finally grunts and starts the car. "I think he gave Sy the same lecture when they started dating."

We drive to town in tense silence. At least, I'm tense. I don't like fooling Uncle Ian. But am I fooling him? I honestly like being Ethan's girlfriend, whether temporary or not; at least, I can genuinely say that I am being sincere... now...

"You look very pretty, Kicks."

"Thanks, so do you," I whisper shyly. He truly does. He doesn't look like he got dragged backwards over a field for a change. He is neatly dressed in jeans and a dark blue shirt, his hair styled on purpose, and he smells amazing.

"Well, it's our first date, so-"

"No, it's not!"

"We already had our first date, and I missed it?" he genuinely sounds appalled at the idea.

"Well..." So, this is a date?

"Just so you know, crawling in the mud and stalking my sister weren't dates."

"Okay then, this is our first date," I concede. Awesome, my nervousness just spiked.

Ethan parks the car in the convenient parking lot providing access to all the shops along Egret's Rest's main road and the beach. There are many other cars tonight, as lots of people are in the town square getting as many things ready for tomorrow as possible. We'll all be pitching in, in the morning to finish the preparations for tomorrow afternoon when the festival officially starts.

I nearly fall out of the car when Ethan opens the door for me. I didn't notice him walking around to my side because I was struggling with my seatbelt due to fingers that were suddenly very shaky.

"Thanks," I mutter when he saves me and helps me from the seat. I hang my bag crossways over my chest to prevent it from constantly slipping off my shoulder and getting in my way, my fingers anxiously fidgeting with the strap.

"Are you cold?" Ethan asks, giving me a concerned look when he takes my hand. It would be weird because it is pretty hot. I have no idea what excuse to provide for my silly trembling.

"I just survived a ride with a hell driver," I lie. Oh, I can come up with excuses, after all. Ethan is not impressed with my creativity (contrary to expectation, he is always a careful driver); he scoffs, wraps his fingers over mine, and sets off for the walkway.

He buys each of us a two-scoop cone at The Float Shoppe, and we stroll over to a bench overlooking the ocean. Sitting side by side, enjoying our ice creams and the intensifying colours of the approaching sunset, I suddenly realise that this could've been an incredibly romantic moment if we were in love with each other... both of us. Now I feel a little bit lonely.

I gaze at Ethan's profile, admiring the strong lines of his nose and jaw, once again baffled by the realisation that somewhere in the last year or two, he'd changed into a man, and I had somehow missed the transition. It is making me feel nervous. Not because I'm afraid of him but because looking at him is causing my heart to go on a wild gallop like a horse breaking free of its harness.

He turns his head, catches me watching him and smiles his genuine smile. The one that always causes me to do whatever stupid favour he asks of me.

"If you want a taste, you just have to ask," he grins, and when I'm about to protest most vehemently about wanting to taste him, he holds his cone out to me. "Make sure you get enough of both flavours for the full effect."

Pretending that I'd been eyeing his ice cream and not dreamily caressing his face with my eyes, like a friggin' idiot, I obediently lean over and have a generous lick fest with his ice cream, and he is right! The blend of peanut butter and chocolate ice cream is wonderful.

"Hmmm," I smile sincerely. "That is really good. Wanna try mine?"

I have one scoop of coffee cream and one scoop of salted caramel, and Ethan is very happy about my offer; I almost fear losing half my treat in his eagerness to sample it.

"Pretty good," he acknowledges my wise choice of flavours. "You know what will be really good?"

"All four together?"

To my surprise, Ethan leaps to his feet, hands me his cone and runs back to The Float Shoppe. I'm still trying to form the words 'what are you doing' when he's back with an empty four-scoop tub. I clench my teeth a little, knowing he'd smiled one of the girls working the counter into giving him one. People, especially girls, always fall over themselves to do things for him, and all he has to do is ask: no coercion, no begging, no threats; just ask.

He takes his cone from me and tips his ice cream into it. I do the same and can honestly admit that the boy is a genius. We use our cones to eat the ice cream, scooping bits of each flavour per bite.

I'm impressed by Ethan's self-control. He is eating slowly and carefully, allowing me to have more than enough. If he were going about this normally, the bowl would be empty in a couple of minutes, and I'd mostly be gnawing on a dry cone.

This is fun!

"I had my doubts about the coffee and peanut butter combination," I admit when we're finally scraping the bottom, and Ethan – surprisingly- pops the last of his cone into his mouth, leaving the last bit of ice cream for me. "But this is my new favourite combination."

"Yeah, we should do this again," he agrees, stretching his left arm along the bench's backrest. When I finish the ice cream, he puts the empty container next to him and slips his hand from the back of the bench to wrap his arm around my shoulders, pulling me against him, and now I cannot breathe. I swear, I'm suffering enough bouts of oxygen deprivation around Ethan to put me in a coma.

"Thanks, Ethy, that was great."

"You're welcome," he says, and his voice sounds a little strange. We sit in silence, watching the sun paint the sky in shades of orange, blue and red while it glimmers and sparkles on the darkening surface of the water below us.

I've seen this view a million times. Has it always been this beautiful?

I turn my head to look up at Ethan and suggest a walk when he heaves a deep sigh. He must be bored; he never sits still for this long. When his lips capture mine, my words melt away on a blissful cloud flavoured with chocolate, salted caramel, coffee and peanut. His lips are cool from the ice cream, and the combination of his taste and textures is a drug sliding me deeper and deeper into a glorious abyss, filled with pleasure instead of despair.

It takes me a while to remember where I am and who I'm dancing on rainbows with. The shiver of real fear running down my spine finally catapults me back into reality, where I'm shamelessly making out with my best friend's annoying brother in public!

"Ethan," I gasp, pulling away from him. "Don't..."

He seems dazed, looking at me as though he doesn't know where I suddenly appeared from. I'm feeling stunned too, but I'm entirely aware of who he is and how we got here, and I'm also startlingly aware of how fast my heart is racing and how much I would love nothing more than to kiss him again.

"Don't you like it?" he asks, his dark eyes boring into mine. I'm only faintly aware of the sun fading over the horizon, its dying colours reflected in Ethan's dilated pupils.

"I do," I hear myself opt for honesty. My brain is too frazzled to come up with any more creative lies. "It's too confusing."

Ethan studies my face as if searching for clarification and answers on its surface; he seems tense and unhappy, but then his features relax into a smile.

"Okay, Kicks," he finally says. "I won't do it again."

My heart didn't want to hear those words. My heart and my lips and my completely senseless soul are shouting: "Noooooooo! Kiss me again," but my brain knows that that is a good decision.

"From now on, we'll only kiss if you instigate it," he clarifies, and that does sound so much better. "You can decide when to have a hello, goodbye, congratulations, good luck, thank you, or I'm sorry kiss."

"Wow, the list of kiss classifications has grown a lot," I say with a shaky smile, swallowing against the stiffness in my throat.

"That spreadsheet has a life of its own. You're going to love version 3.4," Ethan grins. "Come on, let's go play at GG's."

He grabs the empty ice cream tub and pulls me to my feet, and when we reach the nearest garbage can, he drops the tub in it and turns to me. "Can I still hug you when I want to?"

Did we ever have a rule that said he could?

"Within reason." I'm being super-humanly self-controlled here. The word hug is inspiring me to wrap myself around him right away, but I'm standing here politely looking up at him instead. I deserve a badge of achievement!

"Define reason," Ethan says with a frown, not all that interested in my polite reasonability or super-human self-restraint.

"I don't want to be arrested for public indecency."

"I accept your terms," he grins, making me laugh. What on Earth?! I should probably clarify that the same rule applies when we're not in public, but I'm too busy smiling at him as if I've lost my mind. That's probably just because I have lost my mind.

Ethan looks down at his hand still wrapped around mine and adjusts his hold to weave his fingers with mine.

"I'm holding your hand. That's not negotiable."

"Wouldn't dream of negotiating."

Just to show me how reasonable he can be, Ethan pulls me into a rib-cracking tight bear hug, and since I have no common sense left, I wrap myself around him, happily handing myself over to be crushed.

♂♀