Flavoured Ice [ᴛʀᴀᴅʟᴇʏ]

O4

Today had been long. I had almost argued with a customer or two I—'d wanted to spit in their flavoured ices if I'm honest— accidentally spilled coconut shavings into the tub of peach-raspberry ice, and some.

And on the way home I had seen Tristan Evans who had given me a kind smile which was quite unlike that usual smirk that he gave me around his mates which said I want to eat you. And well, I smiled back, until he ruined the moment by placing his tongue between his index and middle fingers and flicking it up and down furiously.

I slammed my front door after that occurence, not wanting to be bothered by him and his antics. And if there was ever anything that I could count on, I suppose that in some way, that thing was school: for even when the heat of summer was blazing, and most teens were out having the times of their lives, not thinking of the wretched place, there was still summer work.

So I invited Shawn over, and besides the whole quid pro quo thing that I had arranged for the summer, we decided to take on some other work.

It had been determined from early February that Shawn and I would both be taking Advanced Placement Statistics, Advanced Placement Music Theory and Vocal Ensemble together. We didn't quite know from the get go if we would be drafted into the same classes, but we had our fingers crossed for the best.

The thing about studying for the next school year, is that it was just that: studying. Well, until Shawn and I broke away from that, and he manipulated my guitar out of its case, beginning to play. And who could resist that? I think you would have to be some sort of a salty sea prune in order to resist that.

"Dude, you know what would be so cool?" Shawn said, setting my guitar down on his lap, eyebrows raised slightly. He had this thing about him, where his cheeks got slightly pink, and his eyes got slightly brighter, and his voice got a little higher; childlike, but that's how you knew he was excited. "If we gave guitar lessons right here in your house," he finished.

I'll admit it, the idea itself was great, and I hadn't thought of anything quite as genius in some time, but it was a commitment. There was always this worry about spreading myself thin. I had done so much of that over the last school year; reigning over the Associated Student Body, creating, organising and running a gentleman's club with Shawn to back me up, taking three Advanced Placement classes without studying the content during the preceding summer. There had been so much.

"Don't you think we'll be making ourselves more flexible than we really are here?" I wondered whilst looking up at Shawn's face which was peppered pink.

"Absolutely not man. Look, we're guaranteed about three days of work each week, right?" I nodded in response, and he continued. "That gives us four days free, if we take two day as personal vacation, we can keep two for lessons. That gives us basically all of the time in the world to make extra money, chill out, do our summer work and go to our actual job," Shawn declared, and it all began to slowly make sense.

"You are a genius," I labelled him, as he nodded his head in a petulant fashion (which might I add took away from that effect).

Maybe summer was more than flirty boys at flavoured ice stands who came bearing cronies and awful pick ups.

Completed: 1/7/17
Published: 9/7/17