Ch. 15
A short while later Jake and I drove up to a modest yet appealing cape cod.
"Where are we?" I asked.
"My aunt and uncle's house." Jake pulled into a parking space and killed the engine. "Don't worry, they go to bed early. There's no way they're still awake," he reassured after he saw the look of alarm, across my face.
I wasn't sure if that made me feel better or worse.
We left the truck and walked up the steps to the front porch. Jake pulled out a key and opened the door, leading me into a beautifully decorated--and completely empty--house.
"Do you want to make some ice cream?" he suggested, looking at me with childlike excitement.
"You mean--do I want to eat some ice cream?"
"Well, yes, eventually we'll eat it. But first, we have to make it."
I smiled at his enthusiasm, albeit a bit surprised. "Wouldn't it just be easier to go buy some ice cream?"
"I suppose. But where's the fun in that?"
I followed him into the kitchen and he turned on a soft light, illuminating the room just enough, but not too much. The glow added to the chemistry I felt growing between us. Abruptly, I put my hand to my mouth to cover a giggle.
"What's so funny?" he asked, his head buried in the pantry. Jake turned toward me, balancing bags of sugar and flour in his arm. He carried a small bottle of vanilla and a can of condensed milk in the other.
"This just isn't how I expected the night to go. I mean, coming back to your house and making ice cream."
"Hey--don't knock it 'til you try it, Addison. I promise you, this will be the best ice cream you've ever had." Jake flashed me the smile that made my insides dance.
He set down the ingredients and reached back into the pantry, pulling out an ancient ice cream maker.
I started to laugh. "Are you sure that thing's going to work? It looks ready to retire."
"I'll have you know that while very experienced in the art of ice cream making, she still has lots of years left in her."
"She?"
"Yes, she." He smiled, the tiny dimple appearing in his cheek. Jake added the ingredients into a bowl and took out a mixer. Turning it on, he began to smooth together the contents.
"So, did you have fun tonight?"Â he asked, his eyes never leaving his project.
I shrugged and pulled up a stool and sat down. "I did, for the most part, anyway. How about you?"
"Sure. Your friends are very nice." He slid the mixer my way. "Okay, now it's your turn."
I took a spoon and scraped it over the sides of the bowl, carefully making sure all of the ingredients were mixed together evenly.
"You know," I said thoughtfully, "I could really use some ice cream right about now."
"I thought you might. For some unknown reason, frozen globs of sugar tend to have magical healing properties."
I watched as he poured the mixture into the ice cream maker, adding a pinch of salt and splash of milk. Retrieving a bag of ice from the freezer, he added that in as well. Jake pulled up another stool and began rotating the crank on the old machine. I was surprised to see how easily it turned in his grasp.
"So... Did you like him?"
"Did I like who?" I asked, already knowing his answer.
"Brett. I mean, you agreed to go to prom with him. Does that mean you liked him?"
I thought for a moment before answering. "I liked him as a friend. A few different guys had invited me, but I said yes to Brett because...because there was something about him." I admitted. "He had that bad-boy edge that was sort of intriguing. It's not that I liked him liked him, but honestly he'd been somewhat appealing. More so than the other guys who invited me, anyway. I wasn't interested in a relationship with him, if that's what you're asking. I guess I could tell he was attracted to me, but I just thought maybe we would have a good time together."
Jake gave me a silent look and I could tell he wanted me to continue.
"Brett's always had a strong personality. Either people like him or they don't. But he's really changed over the past few months."
Jake was quiet as he processed the information I gave him. He looked as if he wanted to say something but remained silent, keeping his thoughts to himself.
"I guess I know now he has some problems at home," I went on, feeling relieved to finally get it all off my chest. "And while I can sympathize with his struggles--I just want nothing to do with him."
"I agree with you, Addison, " he said, pausing at the ice cream maker. Jake got up from the stool and added more ice to the mixture. Sitting down again, he began to crank the machine. "I think you should stay away from him. Brett's a mess. He's drinking; he's bullying girls. He may have his problems--and that's unfortunate--but he's dangerous. And unpredictable," he added.
He gave the ice cream maker a couple more cranks. "I think it's ready."
My desire to taste the homemade concoction grew when he handed me the ice cream filled bowl and spoon, and I dove right in.
"Oh my gosh!" I exclaimed. "This is amazing!"
He smiled triumphantly. "There's nothing quite as good as homemade ice cream." And with that, he lifted a giant spoonful into his mouth.
"Where did you learn to make this?"
"My Grandpa Jeffrey taught me when I was thirteen. I spent a lot of time with my grandparents growing up, especially after my parents divorced."
His blue eyes clouded over and I sensed he wanted to talk about it. It was the second time he had mentioned their separation this evening, so I very gently prodded, giving him permission to vent.
"When did they divorce?"
He put another spoonful of ice cream into this mouth. "They separated when I was ten, but divorced when I was twelve. I had a rough few years after that. Joint custody is tough, your time being split between two parents and all."
Jake sighed and looked off in the distance. I didn't like the serious look that covered his normally smiling face. It made me feel sad for him.
"Your schedule is always changing and you never really settle into a comfortable routine. Nothing is consistent, and that includes rules. So naturally, I liked to see how much I could get away with. It took me a long time to not feel so angry with my parents. Back then, I thought they had ruined my life."
I watched him as he reflected on his past and couldn't help but notice how different we were, and yet how very much the same. I had a hard time imagining what it would be like to split my time between two parents. It seemed confusing.
"Do you still feel that way about them?" I asked curiously.
"No," he said after a moment. "I understand them better now. I know they didn't divorce to ruin my life. It was something they needed to do for themselves. To make them happy. But it's hard to see that when you're an angry teenager. My brothers had an easier time dealing with it than I did. I think it was because they were quite a bit younger than I was when Mom and Dad separated."
Jake looked back at me and smiled. "We're all pretty close now. My parents may not have made good partners, but they make amazing friends. They're both remarried, and believe it or not, they all hang out together."
"They all hang out together? You're kidding!" I laughed in shock. "That seems a little weird."
"I suppose it would seem that way from the outside looking in. But it works for us. So," he said, changing the subject. "You really like the ice cream?"
I nodded my head. "Absolutely! It's really good. You're right--I've never tasted anything like it before."
We spent the next hour devouring the remaining dessert and talking about my childhood. He seemed a little reserved when I discussed family vacations and whatnot. I imagined he felt like he had missed out on some things growing up. When Jake dropped me off at home--fifteen minutes early--he walked me to the door and planted a soft kiss on my lips, careful not to overstep.
I gave him a little wave as he walked back toward his truck. Suddenly, he turned around and called out, "I'm busy tomorrow, but can I call you on Sunday?"
I shook my head and smiled, "I was hoping you would."
He gave me a sexy grin before hopping into his pickup and driving away into the night.
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