The Boy came stumbling in, everyday, at three o'clock. He always looked windswept, even in the dead of summer, like he had just survived a tornado. He sat at the same table, ordered the same scoop of plain strawberry, and stayed for the same twenty minutes. The only constant change was the book he would be reading, or the paper he was scribbling on. Jack knew it was always some homework assignment, because students would only come into this shop for the extra table space and cheap treats. After The Boy was done, he would leave the shop in a hurry, giving a quick smile to whoever was working cashier. And then, he was gone.
Jack never saw him on campus, but he knew the boy had to attend Pulitzer-Bloom University. Only PBU students knew about the small ice-cream shop that was next to the art student's dorms, which was why that particular job was so convenient. No gas money wasted, no extra hassle. He originally didn't even need two jobs, but art supplies adds up. So, Jack took some shifts at Racetrack Sweets.
Jack thanked his lucky stars that he did. Without this job, he would have never laid eyes on The Boy. He would have spent his whole life content with different girls, short-term relationships, and distasteful kisses. Jack would've married someone nice, and promptly would follow suit, and become nice.
Nice. That was not a word that Jack would associate with The Boy. Not that The Boy didn't look good, and kind, because he did, but he did not look nice. Nice was for people who settled. People who laid down and let things happen to them without complaining. Nice was a vague answer to a vague question. The Boy looked like someone who would help a grandmother across the street, whilst flipping off any cars that got too close to her. He looked so much better than nice. He looked marvelous.
Jack wanted to know just how marvelous The Boy was. He wanted to know what The Boy was majoring in, what those big books he always dragged around with him said. Jack wanted to know what his favorite color was, and what would make The Boy's eyes light up with excitement. Jack craved the knowledge of what it was like to lie down next to The Boy for hours, holding hands and talking about everything, and nothing. Jack wanted to know what his curly, distressed hair felt like, and what The Boy's perfectly shaped lips felt against his own.
Jack needed to know.
Jack was thinking all these things when he noticed the time that day. 3:06. He frowned, realizing that The Boy was late, and he hadn't been 'late' in five months. Jack started to worry, although he knew how ridiculous it was. He was worrying about a stranger who bought ice-cream from him everyday. He didn't even know his name! Jack had built up an ideal of a man in his head, and this is what it led to. Being weird about people being unofficially late to ice-cream and homework breaks.
Jack started to sulk behind the counter, wiping down the already-clean surface. Before polishing the counter into nonexistence, the bell above the door rang wildly. His eyes shot up and met The Boy's vibrantly blue ones, and The Boy clutched the side of the counter, trying to catch a breath. He looked like he had run a marathon trying to get here, and he seemed even more disheveled than usual. Jack also had to catch his breath, but for an entirely different reason. The Boy had never looked more beautiful than right now, with his sweater hitched up a tiny bit, exposing a small strip of flesh above his jeans. His glasses were hanging off of one ear, and his lips-
"Sorry," The Boy panted. "I just had to see-" He stopped himself, his sentence stopping abruptly. He looked slightly horrified, as if what he had been about to say was not fit for public ears. Jack's heart pounded, desperate to know what the end of that sentence was.
Me?
The Boy stammered out his usual order, but Jack couldn't hear anything besides the blood pounding in his ears. He handed him his ice-cream with a shaking hand, and The Boy took it with an equally wobbly hand. They both smiled quickly at one another, and The Boy murmured a quick "Thank you." After, he sat at the same table, with the same order, doing the same thing.
Jack knew he had to do something, before he spontaneously combusted, right there, in the middle of an ice-cream shop. He could imagine the headlines, University Boy Breaks Out In Flames!
When the time hit 3:20, The Boy stood up and started to gather his things. Jack decided it was time to make a move, ready or not. He slowly walked over to the boy, and tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, but I never think I got your name." The Boy turned around, red in the face. He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and offered a small smile.
"Davey. Davey Jacobs." Jack let out air that he didn't even know he was holding in. It came whooshing out of his mouth embarrassingly loud.
"I'm Jack Kelly." He held out his hand, and the boy took it.
"I know," Davey said. His eyes went wide as he fumbled for an appropriate way to say, 'I've been coming to this damn shop everyday just to stare at you, and I happened to overhear your name a few times.'
Jack's breath hitched. He knew? How did he know? Have they met before? Was Jack being a terrible person right now?
His pulse sped up when the boy started to blush and scrambled for an apology, and Jack's mouth curled up into a smile. They hadn't met before, Davey had learned his name.
"Well then Davey, can I show you something?" Davey's eyebrows knit together in confusion. What could this beautiful boy want to show a stranger like him? He hesitantly followed him outside, to the small bit of outside tables beside the building. Davey was about to ask in utter confusion what they were doing out here, when Jack pushed him against the wall. His question was cut off by Jack's lips pressing into his own, and the soft shutting of his eyelids.
Jack let a triumphant noise come from deep in his throat when Davey latched his hands against his neck and pulled him closer.
Davey's lips were completely different than what Jack had imagined. Gone, were the ideas of soft, velvet kisses, but replaced with better dreams of chapped lips moving against his own.
His hair was every bit amazing as Jack believed it to be. Curly, soft, and easy to tangle your fingers into, which Jack promptly did. The hairs at the nape of Davey's neck were scattered, but when Jack brushed his hand against them Davey arched his back in response.
Jack decided he needed more of Davey, so he ran his tongue along his bottom lip. Davey complied immediately, opening his mouth and melting when he felt Jack's tongue enter his lips. He almost whined when Jack pulled away and started to bite at his bottom lip, all while grinning.
Davey tasted like… strawberry ice cream.