Strawberries Taste How Lips Do

Of all the things I was grateful for in this moment, wearing a decent coat was one of them. The wind was really picking up, and even though it was a mild winter, it was still chilly. It wasn’t far from the bar to Merchandise Mart, but walking with Andrew was nice. Calming, even.

I knew exactly where the Baskin Robbins was tucked near the back of the mall, so he followed my lead, small talk filling the comfortable silence.

“I’ll take a double scoop of mint chocolate chip in a dish, please,” I spoke to the person behind the counter and was almost immediately met with a disgusted noise from Andrew.

“So you’re eating toothpaste for desert, eh? Thought you had better taste than that,” he added, bumping me with his hip with a smirk.

“Well I am out with you, so…” I mocked, bumping him right back as he ordered himself a double scoop of chocolate. We paid and sat at one of the smaller tables near the back of the restaurant, but it was nearly empty anyway. The silence was comfortable and Andrew was smiling stupidly into his cup of ice cream.

“What?” I asked, dipping my spoon into his dish and taking the bite off of my spoon.

“I feel like we should be sharin’ a milkshake or some shit,” Andrew said, playfully, poking my hand with his spoon in retaliation

“This isn’t the fifties, Shaw. Ice cream is for everyone,” I said playfully, sticking my tongue out before taking a huge bite of my ice cream…

...and promptly giving myself the worst brain-freeze ever. Which Andrew promptly laughed at. I don’t blame him, to be honest. It took a while for it to pass, but by the end, I was laughing with him as he was wiping tears out of his eyes.

“You shoulda seen your face,” he said, taking a bite of his ice cream and shaking his head.

“Shuddup,” I muttered, still smiling, but taking a much smaller bite of my ice cream in response.

We finished our ice cream soon after and walked back to the bar so Andrew could get his car back. I brought my phone out and opened transit stop, checking when the next bus that would get me to the train station would arrive.

“What’re ya doing?” Andrew asked, nudging my side as we walked up to his car, a simple black Chevrolet Equinox. I don’t know what else I expected, but it was sleek and it fit him.

“Just checking the bus schedule,” I said, tapping the appropriate options.

“No need,” he said, unlocking the passenger door and opening it for me. “Hop in.”

“No,” I said, genuinely, shaking my head. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Well yeah, but I want to,” he said simply, gesturing to the open door again.

“I’m probably nowhere near on your way home, Andrew, honestly.”

“Well I’d like to have you alive for our second date, and I don’t trust motherfuckers on the CTA,” Andrew said, more insistent this time, holding his hand out.

I took his hand with a muttered thank you and climbed into the passenger side. He closed my door and walked over to the other side and climbing in.

“Where to, Ms. Fletcher?” Andrew asked, putting on a terrible fake British accent and tipping an imaginary hat. I giggled as I fed him my address and we were on our way.

The radio station was on one of the country stations, but neither of us were really listening, just sitting in silence as I told him where to turn, which lane to be in. It was calming, just the city buzzing behind us and the lights flashing. In between directions, I shot a quick text to Lorelai, letting her know I was on my way home.

Lorelai, as always, goes to the inappropriate and shoots back “Soooo do i need to leave or nah?” and just to screw with her I didn’t respond.

Andrew definitely has road rage. Someone cut in front of him and there were just as many obscenities as there would’ve been if he had gotten checked wrong on the ice. I smiled, biting back the urge to laugh.

“Sorry,” He said, shaking his head and his face tingeing red in the glow of the street lights. “Got a little carried away.”

“That was adorable. You’re like a puppy barking at snow,” i said, finally breaking and bursting into laughter.

“Oh shut up,” he said, swatting playfully at my leg just as we pulled up to my apartment.

We sat in with the radio playing for a beat before --

“I had a lot --” he started

“Do you wanna -- “ I tried. He motioned for me to continue. “Do you wanna come up? Coffee or something?”

“As much as I’d love to, I’ve got early practice tomorrow,” Andrew said softly, sounding genuinely bummed. He still unbuckled his seatbelt and opened his door, coming around to my side as I did the same. I stepped out of the car and he held his arm out to me. I took it, smiling at the ground as we walked to my door. We stopped at the doorstep and I swear if I didn’t have my hand on his arm I’d probably swoon.

“I had a lotta fun, Max,” he said, smiling shyly.

“Yeah, me too,” I said smiling up at him. “Maybe if you’re not busy doing that hockey thing we could do this again?”

“That hockey thing,” he laughed, scratching at the nape of his neck. “I’d like that.”

“Good,” I confirmed, smiling and I could feel how red my face was. I dug around in my purse for my keys and hit my phone on the way there. “I might need your number for that, though.”

“Oh, shit. That’s right,” he laughed, sliding his phone out of his pocket and handing it to me. I punched my number in and logged my name as Tweety Bird with a little bird emoji before handing him mine. He threw his number in and handed it back with a smile.

The light on the porch flickered, obviously from Lorelai flipping the switch repeatedly.

“What, late for curfew?” Andrew joked, award winning smirk on his face. “Am I gonna have to face a dad with a shotgun?”

I laughed tucking my hair behind my ear and sticking my middle finger up at the window I know Lorelai was looking out of.

“No shotgun dads,” I said, “but Lola might be worse than a shotgun dad.”

“Damn right!” I heard Lola shout from the other side of the door. I hit the door with my fist where I knew Lola had her ear plastered. There was a yelp and I knew I had won.

Andrew laughed. “Well, I should go before you get grounded and I'm not allowed to ask you to play anymore,” he said, raising his hands in mock defense before taking one of my hands in his, squeezing lightly. He ducked down and pressed a soft kiss to my cheek.

“Night, Max,” he said softly, squeezing my hand again.

“Night, Andrew,” I said, cheeks burning red. He stepped off the porch and I stepped inside, soon after, hearing his car starting and pulling out of the spot he pulled into.

I would say that I didn't immediately close the door and turn around with my back to it, a la cheesy lifetime movie, but if I did, I would've lied. Lola came back into the hallway and saw me with the stupidest grin on my face, smiling approvingly. I sunk to the floor smiling up at the ceiling and I just felt so dumb, but my head was still spinning at how amazing tonight was.

“Did you crazy kids have fun?” She asked, pulling me up from my spot on the floor into the kitchen where there was already wine poured. I took my glass and sipped it, trying to stop smiling. My fingers danced back up to my cheek where he kissed it and okay, if I wanted to stop smiling that probably wasn't the best way to do it.

“God, Lola,” I gushed. “He's just--” perfect beautiful amazing wonderful “agh.”

“You're really good at the words thing,” Lola said, sipping her own wine and smiling.

“Fuck off,” I said, hitting her arm. “It was just. Wow.”

“Spill, kid,” she urged and I did. I recounted the night, from almost making myself look like an alcoholic to Andrew questioning my taste in ice cream.

“Okay but what kind of person doesn't like mint chocolate chip?” Lola asked, shaking her head. “That's it. First and last date.”

We both laughed at that as we refilled our glasses and moved to the living room. Lola clicked on the TV and -- of course -- NHL Network was on.

“That Gallagher kid plays on the Habs, right?” I mused, sipping my wine as said Gallagher kid zoomed across the ice on the screen.

“Pretty sure,” Lola said. “He’s pretty delectable.”

“I dunno, I prefer that Galchenyuk kid. Have you seen his facial hair? Unf.” I said, shaking my head.

We sat there for about a glass and a half more of wine before my phone buzzed on the side table.

It was obviously Andrew especially since the contact name was “Andy” accompanied by four emojis: a hockey stick, the number 6, the number 5, and the same bird I put my mine.

“home safe! sweet dreams :)” He wrote.

“Night! :)” I sent back before shutting my ringer off, bidding Lola a good night, and climbing into my bed.