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“No,” I finally whisper, my hands shaking. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Chapter 19

Later that day, I wait in front of the ice cream shop for Cat to arrive. It’s 2:00 in the afternoon, and I stand there, sun on my back, holding my phone and aimlessly refreshing my vlog page. I texted Cat saying to meet me here for her “birthday party,” which, as she correctly pointed out, is really just an excuse for me to eat more ice cream. A damn fine one at that, I might add.

Under my arm
I hold the cake I made for her last night, which is now complete with the pictures of her and me I pulled out. I look around for Cat, for her face, her hair, her smile—because seeing her, no matter what, always seems to make my day brighter. She isn’t there, though, and I go back to my phone. People rush by all around me, gossiping and discussing the latest clothing sales and aimlessly swinging their shopping bags as they push past me. Cars rumble by, and the air smells like a mixture of cigarettes and exhaust. Not exactly the most pleasant scent.

But a
s I move closer to
The Icecreamery
, the wonderful smell of vanilla ice cream fills my nose. My stomach growls. I need that ice cream.

After a minute,
my mind drifts to thinking about Dad and what he said. A part of me feels guilty for turning him down because I know in my heart that he really is trying, but I just can’t let him off like that, like nothing happened. He made my life miserable for over a year and even though he’s changing, I can’t just forgive him all of a sudden. I can’t let him off the hook so easily. Somehow, it doesn’t feel right, especially not after what he did to Mom.

Maybe, one day, I’ll forgive him. But he’ll have to work for it.

I sigh and refresh my phone again. This time, a notification shows—a new comment on my vlog. I frown. It’s from… HarperLikesPizza?

Wait…

But Harper is…

…fake…

Right?

Immediately,
I scroll over to the comment, my throat catching, wondering what exactly is going on. When I read over the comment, a breath of relief escapes me. “It’s time to move on from me, O’ Illustrious Sam Green,” it reads. “I hear there’s this hot Cat girl waiting for you in the ice cream shop behind you, too… AND it’s her birthday. You should totally check her out. In fact, she’s so amazing that one could make the argument that she
is
me.”

I let out a little smile. Cat seriously got me
there. I check the time—2:02. Right when Harper always comments. So I let my cheekbones appear, mumble “Goodbye, Harper,” shut my phone, and turn around.

I have a girlfriend to meet.

Cat waves to me through
The Icecreamery
window, and I jog in after her. Cool air blasts me as I step into the shop, and I hear the familiar hum of freezers everywhere. The wondrous scent of ice cream surrounds me as I walk over to Cat, who is seated in the corner.

The place is quiet for once, with only two squealing toddlers and their mom
this time, both on the opposite side of the room. The rest of the shop is just Cat and me.

“Are you Cat
, the hot girl I heard I should meet?” I say to her as I approach.

“That I am.” She gets to her feet and
touches my shoulder with her hand. “Are you ready for the ice cream of a lifetime, oh wonderfully charismatic stranger?”

“Ummmmm hell yes.”

I take her hand then, and we walk over to the cashier, laughing at each other’s stupidity. “Can I help you?” the same cashier from before asks, recognizing us. I don’t mean to brag, of course, but we’re pretty damn popular in the world of children’s ice cream.

I
glance at Cat, who squeezes my hand, and I turn back to the cashier. “Boy could you, Sharon…”

“I’m well aware, West,” Sharon responds, suppressing a little smile.

I quirk my eyebrow and scan the freezer, as if it’s actually a possibility that I’ll choose a different ice cream flavor than always, even though we all know it isn’t.

“I will have your fine
st vanilla ice cream,” I say at last. “With sprinkles and a cherry and in a kiddy cone, please.”

“And what kind of sprinkles would you like, sir?”
she says just to get me going. I can’t help but notice the irony of her calling a sixteen-year-old boy who is ordering a rainbow-sprinkled vanilla ice cream in a kiddy cone “sir.” But I like it anyway.

“Rainbo
w sprinkles. They are what make the world go ‘round.  Literally.”

“I’m well aware
. A world without rainbow sprinkles is a world without happiness.”

“Yes!” I say too loudly. Then I turn to Cat. “See, Red Velvet?
Someone
who gets me!”

Cat rolls her eyes.

“And you?” Sharon asks Cat.

“The s
ame thing,” she says, “but with chocolate sprinkles, please.” She shoots me a look.

“Wow,” I say,
feigning a gasp. “No rainbow sprinkles? Some nerve you have there, woman.”

She melodramatically tosses her hair.
“I guess you could see I’m feeling gutsy today.”

“Oh really? Is that hot shirtless stranger rubbing off on you?” I ask.

“Maybe so.”

Once
the ice cream is done, we pay Sharon, thank her for her “continued support in the children’s ice cream industry,” grab our cones, and sit down. This time, though, Cat does not sit opposite me. She pulls up a chair directly next to mine, nudges my shoulder, and it feels so good to be this close to her.

“Whatcha go
t there?” Cat says, pointing at the wrapped-up cake under my arm.

“Oh, just the greatest birthday present in the history of the world. No bigs.”

“For me?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.

“No, no, of course not. I’m just holding it for a friend.”

She rolls her eyes. “One day, I’m going to be damned for falling in love with someone so weird.”

“And thank god this is not that day.” I slide the present
over to her across the table. “Open it,” I say.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes. As long as you promise to prepare for badassery.”

Cat laughs a little
. “I promise.”

Then, s
he glances down, tears off the bow, rips apart the striped Harry Potter wrapping paper, and slowly lifts the tinfoil underneath to reveal a giant, chocolate-gummy-worm-Oreo cake with old pictures of us forming a fence around the side.

She covers her mouth with her hand. “West,
this is perfect,” she whispers and just stares at the gift. “You are an effing fantastic cook.” She touches her finger to the first photograph, then sifts through all twelve, her mouth curling into a huge grin and her eyes so bright it makes my whole body come to life.

“Oh,
I could so kiss you right now,” she continues. Then, she leans closer. “You know. That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all… shall we?”

A flicker of a smile crosses my lip
s. “Nuh-uh-uh! Not yet.”

“Why not?” she says, clearly amused.

“Because first, ICE CREAM EATING CONTEST!”

Cat
shoots me a look. “Fine. But you’re so going down, Ryder.”

“
Oh, Red Velvet, we’ll see about that,” I say, giving her my best intimidation face, in which I wave my hand in front of my eyes like I’ve seen wrestlers do. It fails miserably, and she starts cracking up.

“Oh yeah?” she says.

“Oh yeah.”

“Then let’s do this.”

“Yes. Let’s.”

We grab our ice creams at almost the exact same time.

“Ready,” she says, and it’s a total déjà vu moment.

“Set,” I say.

We smile at each other, our eyes locking, leaning toward our ice creams. “GO!!!!!!!!!!”

Immediately,
I pounce on the ice cream and eat it so fast my teeth seem to freeze from its coldness. Cat and I get weird looks from all around us, but it’s not like we even care. I keep eating and eating, letting the cool ice cream slide down my throat, watching Cat shove the cone literally
at
her face, and I find myself suppressing a laugh. Finally, when I pull away from the ice cream, it’s just the cherry left, along with a few splotches of ice cream on the table. Cat has already finished, though, and I laugh when I see the vanilla still smeared across her lips.

She shoots me a look.
“I guess I win that,” she says.

“
There are no victors here,” I say. “Only me and everyone else.”

There’s a pause, and we both just sit there, squeezing each other’s hands and smiling.

“You know,” Cat says after a few minutes, “it’s funny how love is so complicated and yet sometimes, it’s as simple as your vlog.”

“
How so?” I ask, frowning. “Please don’t get overly-sentimental on me, Red Velvet.”

She rolls her eyes.
“Well, sometimes love is right in front of you the whole time, even if you don’t realize it. And, like your vlog, all you have to do is click to subscribe.”

I raise my eyebrow. “That’s a terrible a metaphor.”

She laughs. “Dude, I know. I have nothing to say, okay!”

She sighs, and
then I look at her—really look at her. She is glowing, like seriously glowing. Her smile makes
me
smile, her long red hair always manages to take my breath away, and her vanilla ice cream-covered lips just prove to me what a fantastically awesome dork she is.

And I love her.

I really do.

“
So about that kiss…?” Cat whispers.

I smile. “Yes,” I
breathe, “I’m ready.” Then, I lean in, and I kiss the ice cream off her lips.

Epilogue

Cat and I aren’t married now. We don’t have kids, a happy family, a perfect life. But one thing we do have is each other—and that’s something that will never, ever leave us. As of yesterday we’ve been dating for six months, and so Cat and I decided the milestone called for a celebration. So we came here.

I haven’t posted a vlog in months. I’ve been too busy thinking about Cat to be funny
or at all interesting, really. My last vlog post, after the one where I spilled my thoughts about Cat and my dad to the camera, was with Cat—a victory vlog, you can call it—and we laughed and flirted and were entirely awkward the whole time. It was probably the worst video I’ve ever filmed, with the only point to “show off how happy I am,” but I don’t even care, because now things are different.

Now
I’m in love.

I sigh. Just thinking about
Cat brings a smile to my lips. Trust me, that is a
hell
of a lot of smiles.

I sit on the
grass next to the driveway as Cat pulls in with her car. A slight breeze ruffles my hair as I look out at the ocean stretching in front of me, off into the distance. Seagulls fly everywhere above us, squawking and diving for clams or whatever, and I listen to the rhythmic crashing of waves onto the sand, the distant laughs of neighbors on their own beaches, and the rumble of trucks driving by.

When Cat steps out of her car, I turn my head to her, shielding the
sun with my left hand, and smiling.

“Hey you,” I say as she approaches.
Then, I nod to the car. It’s sleek and slim with perfect, glossy-red paint, and it looks brand new, even though it’s ten years old. “Your dad’s Mercedes is also looking pretttty freaking nice. You did an awesome job fixing it.”

She sits down next to me, smiling too. “You mean
we
did an awesome job fixing it.”

I hold up my hands. “Can’t argue with that! I’m just glad we were finally able to use it.”

“Me too,” she says, and then, as I look at her, I can’t help but put my arm around her. She leans her head into my shoulder and, with the wind whipping against us, we stare out at the horizon and the water and sand of the beach below.

“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, because as I take in
my surroundings I realize that it really is just that: beautiful. But even more beautiful than the beach is Cat and the feeling she gives me. With my arm around her it’s like I’m omnipotent, like her warmth is my Kryptonite.

“It is.” I follow her gaze to the giant, all-wood beach house
to our right. “And that, West Ryder, is the holy grail of beach houses. My grandfather was a genius when it came to buying real estate.”

“For sure. This is going to be a perfect week a
way from the rest of the world. Just you and me,” I whisper.

She nods. “I always told you that when I fix
ed up that Mercedes, I’d take the boy of my dreams here.” She turns to me, her blue eyes sparkling. “And I was right.”

Then, she leans in, and
with the sun shining down on our backs, our lips lock.