Author's note: This is just a lil piece of fluff. You may not understand it, but he's using ice-cream as a metaphor.------------- -------

Ice-cream with sprinkles on top.

Rainbow colors in every bite.

Many personalities.

Many flavors.

Many styles.

Sounded slightly familiar.

Lorelai Gilmore.

"Dammit!" Luke plunged the coated spoon back into his bowl, and the whole table seemed to shake. He wasn't really a sprinkly ice-cream kind of guy.

No.

He wasn't really an any type of ice-cream kind of guy.

Ice-cream, wasn't healthy.

He was.

That was the difference.

But it was addictive.

After a while you started to inhale it, crave it, find it in places you didn't expect.

No one would ever admit they were an ice-cream addict.

Because, what would people say?

Ice-cream was for preppy boys, or guys who complimented a girl in an ugly dress just because she had big boobs, guys like Jason.

Right?

Funny guys, who owned ties that looked like they had been dipped in it.

Or maybe smart guys. Who secretly chowed down tiny scoops in perfect ovals.

But not for diner owners.

The hard-working class who never seemed to get what they wanted.

I scream, you scream, we all scream for iccce- cream!

Hmph.

He knew that he'd never scream for ice-cream.

Not for anyone else to hear.

But maybe his heart would.

In time.

Ice-cream with sprinkles on top.