Drinkable Ice Cream
FOR LACK OF a better adjective, Adachi was always really melty around me. That was nice in its own way, like ice cream left out at room temperature. Yet just once, I wanted to see her at her most frigid—the version I heard about from everyone else. My first thought was to secretly tail her so I could observe her demeanor from a distance.
“Hmmm…”
“What?”
Unfortunately, it was impossible even to put any distance between us, since she followed me around like a baby duck. Not that I didn’t enjoy being pursued through the school—I just wasn’t in the mood for soupy ice cream at the moment. Alas, there was no hiding from someone who watched my every move. As long as she knew I was around, she’d stay defrosted.
Abandoning my failed plan, I came to a halt. I’d been so focused on eluding Adachi that I couldn’t tell what floor we’d ended up on. As a crowd of vaguely familiar faces flowed past us, Adachi shot me a confused glance. Honestly, someone should’ve taught her not to tail anybody acting as bizarre as I was.
If I couldn’t physically escape her, what if I asked directly for what I wanted? For example…
“Adachi, could you steer clear of me for a while?” She’d probably cry.
“Could you give me the cold shoulder for a sec?” She’d probably look for an ice pack.
“Could you freeze me out real quick?” I had the feeling she wouldn’t be able to.
Still, I wanted to see if she’d at least try, so I phrased it like this: “Adachi, could you try acting cold toward me?”
“Cold?” she repeated.
“Ice-cold, if possible.” Bracing myself for her most biting words, I spread my arms wide in invitation.
For some reason, she recoiled. “But…how?”
I wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by the question. “Uh…” Come to think of it, how could I give an example when I’d never seen her alleged ice-queen routine firsthand? Did she roll her eyes at everyone?
Before I knew it, we were at an impasse.
“Okay, here’s what we’ll do,” I suggested. “First, I’ll invite you to hang out after school today.”
“Sure, I’m down.”
“No—you’re supposed to refuse.”
“How come?” She looked at me in wide-eyed confusion.
I admittedly couldn’t fault her for that. “Because I’d like you to act cold.”
“I don’t want to, though.” That response, too, was reasonable. Of course she wouldn’t want to. As for me, I’d probably shrug off the rejection and go home.
“Yeah, I know.”
“Okay…?”
We both floundered for a moment.
Now what? Eh, screw it. “Want to hang out?”
“Um…yay…”
And so I gave up. After all, I was perfectly content with my melty ice cream. Why would I want it any other way?
Yum, yum.
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