The Record Scratch Romance

Ice Cream

As it turns out, the day could get more agonizing. You're just a few blocks from your job when it starts pouring, like not any normal rain, but the one that feels like god pouring buckets of water on you. Maybe this is punishment for something, you're not sure what, but you probably deserve it. 

You suppress a scream as you begin sprinting to the ice cream shop, your shoes splashing through the puddles. You're sure everyone that passes by is gawking at the person with the drenched apron with weird smiling ice creams on it.

After the miserable trek, you make it to work, Maladay's Ice Cream, and push open the door. Water drips from your hair and clothes onto the ground. Your coworker, Angie, gapes at you in disbelief. "Did you go swimming before you came here?"

"No," you growl as you stomp behind the counter and Angie follows you to the backroom as you clock in. "I took my same ten minute commute here."

"I keep telling you that you should buy a car."

"Does it look like I'm on a buying a car budget working here?"

"No, but I'm sure you would if you didn't buy YouTube Premium every month."

You roll your eyes. Sometimes during breaks you'd watch YouTube with her. You'd shared Todd in the Shadows' videos with her sometimes, but you were afraid that she'd try to turn it into a thing between the two of you. "Twelve bucks a month will barely get me shit. Maybe a single scoop ice cream from here."

She laughs. "You're funny and all, but I'm sure when Mal gets here, he'll be disappointed to see us working behind."

You glance out the door to see a small group of teens eating ice cream at a table. You shrug. "Blame it on the traffic being low. The morning hours are just prep for the rest of the day."

"I'm sure." She looks over you. "You want a new apron?"

"Yes please."

She retrieves you a new smiling ice cream covered apron, and you replace it with your own. It doesn't completely hide the fact you were caught in the rain, but it shows the brand nice and well, which is all that matters.

You start taking care of ice cream cake orders, perhaps one part of the job you enjoy. It was relaxing to add the layers of frosting and ice cream one by one, and your favorite part was writing letters onto the top of cakes. It was probably the only reason you wanted to keep the job instead of moving on.

You hear the door ring, and your boss Mal marches in. He was a tall, bulky man with long brown hair that reached his shoulders. He'd come in possession of the store through pure nepotism, as he was Maladay Jeffrey Ellingston Jr.. He had no interest in ice cream, as from his muscular figure, he ran a fitness and health Instagram page and posted as many workout selfies as he could. If anything, he snarled at the offer of any carb at all.

"Morning," Angie greets him.

"Working hard?" he says.

"You know it," Angie lets out in a forced breath.

He steps behind the counter, and his eyes fall on you. "Y/n, something happen today?"

"I was caught in the rain."

"If you left the house sooner, it wouldn't have been a problem. It's important we look sharp for all the customers."

"Yes, sir," you mutter.

The day carries on in a meaningless blur as you serve customers and work on cakes. During your last break of the day, you're watching Todd in the Shadows' "Top Ten Worst Songs of 2017" video for the umpteenth time that month when Mal barks at you to head back to the counter. You were sure it was illegal for him to cut your break short, but there wasn't much you wanted to do about that.

"Yes, sir?" you asked.

"This kind gentleman said you made him the wrong kind of cake. He ordered strawberry and vanilla, not cookies and cream and chocolate."

You furrow your brow and turn to the man at the counter. Your eyes widen slightly, because damn, that man is attractive. He had sharp, brown eyes, beige skin, dark hair along his head, and you couldn't explain it, but he was alluring.

But whatever, you saw hot customers all the time. So what?

"I'm sorry, sir. Did I get your order wrong?"

"Yeah, I'm not sure what warranted such a stark difference from my order." 

"I'm sure I can fix it, and we'll even offer a full refund if you'd like."

"A full what?" Mal mutters. 

The man seems to overhear, and a smile quirks to his lips. You meet his eyes, and his face falls slightly, and he turns his attention back to his cake. "I'm sure that maybe there was a minor error that we're unaware of, and this can be fixed."

"Your name, sir?" Mal asks.

"Justin."

You nod. "Right away." You hurry to the back fridge and glance around. You see that one of the tags is barely sticking to one of them. You look over it and raise an eyebrow. It seems you've found it.

You go back and present it to him, and he smiles. "See, everything's fine. No refunds necessary."

"None at all," you add.

He passes you another smile and takes the cake from your hands. Your hand brushes against his, and it's almost like you're having deja vu. "Thanks. Have a nice day."

"You, too."

He walks out of the store as Mal rounds on you. "Do we need to have a proactive company session?"

By that he meant condescending meeting where you never got the chance to speak. "No, sir. I promise none of this will happen again."

"Good."

The rest of the day passes by until it's time for you to clock out. Just in time, Lisette stalks into the store, her long curly hair billowing behind her. She looks like a goddess, which is really all she ever is. Even Mal stops to stare.

"Hey, you ready to go?" she asks.

You sigh. "It seems I have no choice."

"Say," Mal interjects, "where's my favorite employee and her lovely friend headed?"

"Nowhere you are," Lisette snaps.

Mal deflates, and you have to suppress a laugh. Lisette tugs your arm. "C'mon, let's go. We're late, but not fashionably late enough."

You hurry out of the store with her as you unleash your laughter. "What?" Lisette scoffs. "He was being annoying. I can't believe your boss would try to hit on me."

"Who knows? Maybe he'll be nicer to me now."

"I doubt it. He looks like a head full of steroids."

"You think?"

You slide into her car, and she starts driving. "But anyway, how was your day?"

"Tolerable. A lot weirder than I wish it was."

"Good, because it's about to get a lot more exciting."

You groan. "Right, where are we headed?"

"First? A la boutique."