6.8
After we finished swimming, I was rather thirsty. The rest of our group must’ve felt the same way, because as dusk fell and we walked back to the dorms, one of Ichinose’s friends said, “Hey, Honami-chan. I think I want ice cream. How about you?”
“Yeah. Sounds good,” Ichinose replied. Even after a refreshing swim, the heat was oppressive. “How about we take a little detour before heading back?”
There were no objections. We entered a nearby convenience store, and everyone rushed to the ice cream. Horikita had been conflicted over whether she wanted something to drink, but now it looked like she wanted ice cream, too.
“I’ll have this one! Ultra Choco Monaka!” shouted Ike, pulling out an ice cream three times larger than normal. It was nearly four times the price of a regular ice cream, too.
That seemed wasteful, but I supposed if it made him happy, it was probably fine. Sudou and Yamauchi wanted shaved ice, while Ichinose chose a popsicle. Even in a standard convenience store, the group’s individual quirks and tastes were clear.
Sakura, standing behind me, looked around hesitantly.
“What are you getting?” I asked.
“Um, I-I… Wh-what do I pick, I wonder?” she stuttered.
Sakura stood on tiptoe and desperately struggled to look inside the ice cream freezer. Honestly, even I could barely see. When Ike and the others finally left, I felt Sakura push against me.
“Let’s go,” I told her.
“O-okay,” she replied.
She really seemed to be struggling to choose, so I stood by her while we made our selections, to help.
“What should I do?” she muttered. Her hands shook, as if she were flustered.
“You don’t like ice cream?”
“Oh no, I like all kinds. I’ve probably eaten everything here before,” she replied, pointing toward the right half of the case. Horikita, who’d also remained by the freezer, chose her ice cream and went to the register.
“Hurry up, or you’ll get left behind!” Ike called.
Given how sensitive Sakura was, hearing that only made her more flustered. “Um, umm… Sorry. I’m the type who takes forever deciding things like this.”
“There’s no need to panic. He’s just messing around. I haven’t decided yet, either,” I told her.
“What are you going to have, Ayanokouji-kun?”
“Me?”
I shifted my attention from Sakura and looked into the freezer. Honestly, everything looked the same.
“I think I’ll have this.”
I picked up a standard soft-serve ice cream, the kind that coils around and around. Some of the soft serve had chocolate mixed in, but I’d leave that for next time.
“W-well, I’ll have that too, then. It’s delicious,” Sakura replied.
It felt as though I’d forced her to choose that, but if Sakura was satisfied, then it was probably fine. After we paid and left, everyone gathered in front of the store and began to eat. I opened the package and scooped some ice cream, letting it melt in my mouth.
“This is…really good,” I said quietly.
The sweetness and coldness shivered through my body. This could become a habit. It was honestly revelatory. Who knew ice cream would be this delicious? Eating too much of it could be bad for you, though.
“Whoa, you sure are enjoying that. It’s almost like it’s your first time eating ice cream,” observed Ichinose.
“Anyone would think it’s delicious. Especially in this heat,” I replied. That should’ve been obvious.
“Well, I suppose. It’s just…you’re eating it like it’s something you really love. This is the first time I’ve seen you make a face like that.”
“That’s because he has a face like a doll. His expression never changes,” said Horikita, interjecting on my behalf. Well, she was sort of like a doll herself in that regard.
Horikita and Ichinose began to chatter happily about the second semester, which was about to start.
“Hey, Ichinose. Your popsicle looks pretty rough.”
“Gah! You’re seriously right!”
Ichinose’s popsicle was melting in the heat. Flustered, Ichinose licked what was dripping and then stuck the popsicle in her mouth.
“Mmph, famks bery mug,” she muttered through a mouthful of popsicle.
Was she saying, “Thank you very much”? It seemed that way. Even as it melted, the popsicle did look delicious.
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