If Becca didn't get ice cream, she was going to die. Okay, she wasn't actually going to die, but that's how it felt as she stared into the freezer which was sadly devoid of ice cream. She shut the door and opened it again, which had the usual effect of doing absolutely nothing. She prodded half-heartedly between the bags of frozen vegetables and popcorn chicken as if that might do what closing the door had not. She could ask Ally, her roommate, to pick up a carton on the way home from work. She leaned back to get a better view of the clock on the microwave.
"Ugh, three hours," she groaned. She wasn't waiting three hours. She needed ice cream now.
The nice thing about working from her apartment was that she could get ice cream if she wanted. Becca ran a brush through her hair a few times, put on some mascara, threw on a cardigan over an old t-shirt that was making its current living as pajamas, and called that good enough. It wasn't like she was going to impress anyone when she set down a huge tub of ice cream with what would definitely be too much enthusiasm. Oh well, she would be damned if she was going to let anyone's opinions come between her and her one true love: food.
Becca took out a bottle of prescription Oxycodone and another bottle with Adderall from a drawer in her bedroom. She swallowed one tablet from each and tossed the rest of the bottles into her purse as an added precaution. With her purse slung over her shoulder, she marched out of the apartment on a mission. Operation Frozen Deliciousness was a go.
There were a few close convenience stores that had small tubs of Ben & Jerry's or ice cream sandwiches. However, Becca decided that she'd rather hit up a supermarket so she could get enough that there wouldn't be another ice cream crisis in the foreseeable future. The nearest was a bit of a walk, but she considered that burning off all of the calories she was going to consume later.
Becca forded into the busy streets partly wishing that the rain promised by the news was actually happening so that the sidewalks would be clearer. She devoted her thoughts instead to the all-important task of choosing a flavor, and by the time she was within blocks of the supermarket, she was fairly certain she was in the mood for mint chocolate chip. Although, cookie dough was also sounding pretty good. Or black raspberry. Okay, maybe this needed further consideration.
Becca waited on the fringes of a crowded crosswalk bouncing on her heels in anticipation. Someone jostled her elbow causing her to shuffle automatically out of the way. She glanced up to where people were joining the crowd as they streamed across from another crosswalk. Before her eyes could drift back to the red signal, she saw someone in the flood that she recognized. It was that hot artist guy from the park a few days ago! And he was once again looking a little too serious. Shit, what was his name? And why hadn't she put on something that looked less like she'd fallen straight off of her couch?
A hand through her hair was the best she could do before calling, "Hey!"
A ripple of heads turned in her direction, but his was one of them. Becca smiled and waved. She couldn't remember his name. Kevin? Chris? No, that was totally wrong.
The man's eyes flicked to the side as though she might be talking to someone else. When no one responded on either side of him, his attention turned back to her.
Becca was feeling an S-name, but that didn't narrow it down a whole lot. Damn. She beckoned to him, after which he finally returned a smaller version of smile she was giving him and shuffled his way through the crowd.
"Hi," she greeted once he was close enough.
"Hi," he echoed. "Becca, right?"
"Yeah." She was both pleased that he remembered her name and annoyed since she couldn't remember his. Not the best impression to make. Rather than have an awkward pause, she directly asked, "Sorry, what was your name, again? I'm so awful with names."
"Steve," he offered, fortunately not sounding offended.
"That's right." That wasn't even a hard name to remember. In her defense, she'd never expected to see him again. New York was a huge place. "Hi, Steve."
His smile stretched a little wider. "Hi."
The crosswalk signal finally flicked to a tiny white figure, and they followed the herd across the street.
"You coming back from the gym?" she asked, noticing the light sheen of sweat but choosing to indicate the duffel bag he was holding instead.
"Yeah."
"Ah. Good for you. I can't stand going to the gym. Those places cost…" She wrinkled her nose up and made a disgusted face. "Money."
He chuckled. "Well, I can't argue with that."
"Exactly, and going for a run outside is totally free, if slightly more dangerous." Or a lot more dangerous depending on the neighborhood. She shrugged. "But hey, that's me. Living on the edge, all day, every day."
"Oh, yeah?" His eyebrows rose. "And where is it you're headed?"
"To get ice cream," she informed him, attempting to strike a valiant pose while continuing to walk. "I might even mix two flavors. Like I said, living on the edge."
"Ice cream, huh?" Steve questioned. She nodded. "But doesn't that cost…"
Becca frowned, realizing where this was about to go. "Okay, hold on."
"…money?" The serious expression Steve was attempting to maintain couldn't hide the bemused spark in his eyes.
"All right, yes. But one –" She counted on her fingers. " – not as much money, and two, ice cream equals happiness and going to the gym equals pain and suffering."
"I don't know if that's right," Steve replied, nearly knocking into her when a man pushed past him. He barely spared the man a glance.
"What?" Becca gaped, exasperated.
Oh God, was he one of those people that really loved working out? Even more than ice cream? She never understood people like that, and so felt the compulsion to enlighten them. Besides, Becca had a feeling that if she left him, he'd go back to being all grim. If she could be any help with that she was happy to do so, especially if there was food involved. Not to mention, any excuse to hang out with someone cute was not to be passed up.
"You clearly have not had the right ice cream. I need to help you see the light. You should come with me."
Never mind the supermarket. She was taking him to Black Ice. The ice cream shakes from that shop made everything else seem bland and boring by comparison. If she could afford to go all the time and not have to roll down the street to get there, she would.
"Oh, um…" Steve tilted his head in the direction that was probably where he had heading.
"Unless you have somewhere else to be," she quickly added.
Becca had a bad habit of getting over excited or, as her younger brother put it, "frickin' pushy." This was important though. She couldn't let anyone go around thinking ice cream was anything less than complete amazingness. Furthermore, this was how she was normally, so Steve had might as well know what he was in for. Dialing her personality down took an effort only worthwhile at large family gatherings and meeting someone's parents. Unless she was making him really uncomfortable in which case…
"No," Steve assured her before she decided if she should back off any further. "I'd like to come."
"Okay, great!" She beamed. This was going to be even better than an entire tub of mint chocolate chip. "In that case, we're going to have to backtrack a bit."
Which on a busy sidewalk meant some tricky sidling through people to get to the opposite side of the sidewalk. It always gave her flashbacks to playing Frogger as a teen. However, they both managed with relatively little struggle and integrated back into the flow.
"You haven't been to Black Ice, have you?" she asked.
Steve shook his head. "No."
"Oh good. Well, not "good" because you've been missing out, but "good" because if you had and didn't believe ice cream is happiness then…" She shook her head. "…Then clearly you are just not a person."
"That good, huh?"
"The best," she sighed dreamily. "You'll see."
At least, Becca had never met anyone who regretting going. She hadn't been in a while though. When the price was six dollars for a regular sized shake, it was enough to put her off regular trips. In fact, the last time she remembered splurging was with Tess, and that had to be at least a few months ago. As much as she enjoyed going with a friend, going with a good looking guy, well…
Becca lifted her gaze, meeting Steve's eyes as he glanced at her, and widened her smile. He had to be single, right? True, he certainly didn't have the look of someone who would be single very often. He was tall; the top of her head just barely met his shoulders. Broad shoulders that hinted at muscle even if they were hidden beneath a jacket. He had a strong cut jaw, plus the blue eye/blonde hair combination going for him. His clothing reminded her vaguely of old photos of her grandfather, but it was clean and unrumpled. The older fashion worked on him in a weird way.
Don't stare. She focused back on making sure she wasn't going to run into anyone.
Guys in relationships didn't usually take random women up on offers of going out somewhere. Unless he was cheating. Not that this was a date in any way, but still. Besides, she wasn't getting a cheater vibe from him. Despite the occasion snappy comment, there was something about him that came across as uncertain. Ugh, with her luck he would probably turn out to be gay. Since they were together for a while, she did have time to find out.
"So are you from around here then?" she asked.
"Yeah," Steve answered, looking relieved for an easy topic of conversation. "I grew up in Brooklyn."
"Oh, no way."
"Yeah. How 'bout you?"
"Right state, different –" A car horn blared, and she paused until the annoyed driver stopped honking. "– different town. I'm from a small town up near the Canadian border. It's called Ellenburg." As usual, that got no reaction, so she continued, "But I moved here for college, and I liked it so much that I stayed."
"So you work in the city," Steve gathered.
"Even better. I work right in my apartment. I'm a copywriter, so you know all those ads you ignore on Facebook and other websites?" She pointed toward herself. "I write those. It pays decent, and it can be pretty fun. What's it you do?"
"I'm…" His forehead wrinkled as he winced. "I was in the army. I'm sort of… on a leave of absence."
And he did not look happy about it. "Oh." While Becca was curious, she didn't want to prod a touchy subject. "Um, well, at least that leaves you time to get roped into going out for ice cream, right?"
His smile resurfaced. "I've heard it's an experience."
"That sounds suspiciously like doubt in your tone, Steve," she noted, crossing her arms. He held up a placating hand, but she merely arched an eyebrow. "I'll make a believer out of you yet."
"I'm sure you will."
The comment didn't sound mocking, but she couldn't help giving him a light poke in the ribs. His hand rose in instinctive retaliation, but he seemed to think better of it because he dropped it right away. Not before Becca caught the movement though. He looked kind of embarrassed. It was cute.
Becca nodded to her right. "Come on. It's down here."
She directed them to another, narrower street. The constant stream of people ebbed. Most were hesitant to trek down a side street unless they knew where they were headed. However, those that did congregated around one specific place.
Despite the general dinginess, or perhaps because of it, Black Ice managed to have a gleaming quality about it. There were shards of black glass that glinted, lit from behind in a way that made the tips of the glass glow. That glass framed the doorway covering the edges of the tall, frosted windows. Inside were a slew of small tables and flat screens playing hipster music videos.
The line actually wasn't too bad. Becca had been here on much busier days. Of course, they were still outside of the door, but the place wasn't huge and the service was quick. She squinted through the windows, trying to read the large display of that day's flavors through a frosted section of glass and wishing she were taller.
"Okay, so you absolutely have to get an ice cream shake," she instructed. "The ice cream by itself is amazing, but the shakes are yuuuum." Her eyelids fluttered in pleasure just imagining the taste.
"Which one should I get?" Steve asked, attempting to get a look himself. The window was clearer at his eye level.
"Ah, they rotate the flavors out daily, so I couldn't tell you. Whatever you get, you will not be disappointed," she promised.
"Does…" He leaned forward, almost pressing his nose to the glass. "Does that say 'prosciutto melon'?"
Becca stood on her tip-toes to try and see over a wide section of frost in vain. Nope, not tall enough.
"Probably." She landed back on her heels. "They have interesting flavors."
"Uh huh."
"You don't have to get that flavor," she pointed out.
"Well, that's a relief."
"But you also don't get to back out now, if that's what you're thinking."
"I wasn't."
"Uh huh," she rumbled in an exaggerated inflection of his voice.
Steve looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and she gave him her best innocent grin.
"They also have chocolate," he noted.
She snorted. "Booooring. I didn't rescue you from the insanity of thinking the gym is okay so you can make more bad choices."
"I don't think I've met anyone who thought chocolate is a bad choice."
She shrugged. "It is when you can find something better." Steve put out a hand to hold open the door as the line shuffled forward. "Thanks."
Since she could now see the screens that displayed all the flavors, Becca took few minutes to decide which one she wanted to get herself. There were so many good options, but she finally landed on strawberry lavender.
Steve was eyeing the display with a way too serious expression, so she nudged him.
"It's not a test. It's just ice cream," she said.
"It kind of feels like a test."
Her eyebrows drew together. "How?"
"Well, apparently chocolate was a wrong choice," Steve reminded her.
"Oh that." Becca waved a hand dismissively. "If you really want it, go ahead. I just like being difficult."
He laughed. "I noticed."
Becca's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"
Steve's laughter spluttered out at the sharpness in her tone. Becca maintained a shocked expression, which was difficult as Steve's face was pretty priceless while he began to stutter through an apology, but only for a couple of seconds before she burst into giggles.
"I'm sorry," she wheezed. "I'm sorry. I'm not offended. It's fine. Oh my god, your face though." She shook her head, choking back deep breaths. "Sorry. Here, we have to choose what we want now, so I hope you're ready."
There was a touch screen that allowed them to put in orders a few customers ahead to keep the line going. Becca tried to control her laughter while she picked out her shake, but only fell into another fit of giggles when Steve muttered "difficult" under his breath.
At least Steve was smiling, so she didn't worry too much. That joke was only good once anyway. She could play nice for a while. Plus, he picked Buttermilk Caramel Apple, which was adventurous enough that she didn't have to tease him about it.
"A plus for you," she said. Oh, who was she kidding? Mostly not teasing. When he didn't press the "check out" button, she asked, "Did…you want anything else?"
"No, this is fine," he assured her.
"Okay." She pressed the button herself and took a step forward. "I hope you're excited."
"Definitely," he stated in such a flat tone that Becca gave him a look.
"Can I give you some advice?"
"Um, sure," he said.
"Never take up any profession that extensively involves lying."
"Noted," he laughed.
"Because you're really bad at it. I mean, really bad."
"Yeah, all right."
"I mean, like, if you had to lie to save your life, you'd probably fail." Becca shrugged in a mildly apologetic manner as Steve gave her a sideways look. "Don't you wish I had a mute button?"
"Well, I could answer, but like you said I'm not a good liar," he retorted with a grin.
Becca laughed. "I like you, Steve. I just might have to keep you."
It was out of her mouth before she could think, as was all too often the case. Becca's face flushed, and she bit down on the corner of her lip. That was a bit much taken the wrong way. She always rambled on until her big mouth got her in trouble.
Steve blinked, but as she looked embarrassed enough for both of them, he replied, "Is that going to involve coming here again? Because next time I'm getting chocolate."
Becca let out a relieved breath, the corners of her lips curving upwards. "If you must."
"Becca!" called a woman behind the counter.
"Ooo, that's us," Becca squealed, clasping her hands together in anticipation.
She took the two proffered shakes, checking the label before handing the correct one to Steve. The white styrofoam was so unsuspecting for all the tastiness it held, and also very cold. She switched between hands.
"That'll be thirteen seventy-five," the cashier stated after looking over their cups.
Becca set hers down in front of the cash register without taking a sip so she could dig through her purse for her wallet. Movement caught the edge of her vision. Steve had set his duffel bag on the floor and taken out a wallet.
"No way. I've got it," she stated. "I invited you."
Steve stopped with his hand in the billfold. "But –"
"Nope, it's my treat," she insisted, pulling out her own wallet.
"I can't –"
"Too late." She handed over a credit card before Steve could offer the cash. "It's nice of you to offer, but since I did invite you this one's on me."
Steve's fingers curled around the bills, and she thought he was going to press them on her. Then, he shifted them back into his wallet.
"Thanks."
"No problem."
Becca signed her name and took her card back, shoving the entire wallet back into her purse so that she could pick up her shake. She scanned the tables, wondering if they were going to be out of luck or have do that thing where they pretended not to be hovering like vultures over someone who was cleaning up their table. As it turned out, neither was the case because one table was suddenly empty. She took the initiative to quickly thread her way over to it.
Once they were seated across from each other, she said, "All right, now take a sip of that shake and tell me it is not the best thing you have ever tasted.
Steve had no idea how he'd gotten here. It seemed like one minute he was walking back to his apartment and hearing a voice shouting "Hey!" in a crowd, and now here he was with the best tasting shake he'd ever had sitting across from Becca in an ice cream shop whose interior made it very apparent that it had been built within the last few years.
The entire situation should have made him uncomfortable. He still felt out of place when he was somewhere that gleamed with all the new technology and bright colors the twenty-first century had to offer. The food nearly always tasted unnaturally better, although that was a change he appreciated. Most of all, however, it was talking to Becca that was strange. He wasn't afraid of dames – women, no one said "dame" anymore – but he had never been good at talking to them, mostly because he hadn't gotten much of a chance. With Peggy, he'd gotten a bit better, but only after he'd gotten to know her. It was that beginning part where he stumbled all over himself, especially when they were beautiful. Maybe Becca wasn't dynamite beautiful, but she wasn't unattractive.
"Hello. Earth to Steve."
Maybe it was because Becca seemed so, well, normal that he liked her. She didn't take anything too seriously and had the kind of sardonic humor to which he could relate. Honestly, it was just nice to have someone to talk with. He hadn't realized how much he missed that until she came along. That was most of why he'd agreed to come here with her. That and he was so unused to having a woman ask him anywhere that he wasn't sure he could turn her down.
"Um, Steve?"
Steve blinked and looked up from his shake. Becca was staring at him with amusement, resting her chin on her hands. She lifted her head when she saw that she had his attention.
"There you are. I mean, I knew these shakes were great, but jeez, where'd you go?"
"Sorry," he apologized. "Sorry. I just…" He lifted his cup. "You were right. Happiness in a cup."
Her feature lit with triumph. "Told you." She took a sip and sighed. "Heaven."
"If you like the taste of flowers," he murmured over the rim of his shake.
Becca eyed him severely. "And your buttermilk apples whatever are any better?" she huffed.
"You don't like apples?" he asked in disbelief.
She rolled her eyes. "Of course I like apples. I'm a human being. I just couldn't let you talk down my shake."
Steve shook his head and swallowed another mouthful. She hadn't been lying about this ice cream. He'd already downed half of it.
When Becca noticed, he thought she was going to tease him about it, but instead she said, "You should have seen the first time I got one of these. I chugged in about a minute without noticing. I'm pretty sure John still has a pic on his phone from that day. I'm looking at the bottom of the cup like I just lost a puppy in it or something."
He studied her carefully, wondering if he should ask about John. He knew this wasn't a date. At least, he hoped it wasn't. He didn't know what counted by today's standards. He was still trying to sort out just living in this century, never mind dating. He couldn't even get a real date back home. Deciding that she probably wouldn't think anything of the question, he asked.
"So is John your –"
"Oh, no," she said quickly. "Just a friend. I don't have a boyfriend." Becca tipped her head in a rapid, darting movement that reminded him of a bird. "Do you? Or a girlfriend or whatever?"
"No. No girlfriend."
He hadn't really even dated Peggy, although that hadn't diminished his feelings for her. As to having a boyfriend, he'd once thought maybe… But that memory hurt too much to prod so he buried it back way down deep.
"Well, friends are good, too." She slipped her long hair back behind her left ear, keeping it away from where it had been falling dangerous close to her shake.
"They are," he agreed. Dating was too much too soon, but a friend he wouldn't mind especially if they weren't going to treat him different from anybody else.
Becca held up her cup hopefully. "Friends?"
"Friends," he repeated, knocking his cup lightly against hers.
"And I know you mean it," she said. He lifted his drink. Becca took another sip of her shake before finishing, "Because you're a really awful liar."
Steve choked on a mouthful of shake, nearly unable to swallow it without spitting everywhere. Becca smiled to herself over the edge of her cup and winked at him.
He coughed, certain that he'd accidently inhaled some of the cold liquid. It felt like his throat was burning. He swallowed painfully.
"You don't let things go, do you?"
"I talked to you for five minutes a few days ago and now you're here in an ice cream parlor with me," she pointed out. "What do you think?"
Good point. He thought it over.
"I think we're going to have to come here again because this–" He tilted his cup. "–is the best thing I've ever tasted."
"No argument here. I wish they had cartons of this stuff you could bring home." She gave her cup a longing look. "Except the Olive Oil one." She wrinkled her nose, the light dusting of freckles across it clumping together. "That was a mistake."
"Olive Oil?" Steve tried to imagine the taste of that particular substance in ice cream and then decided that he'd rather not. "Suddenly, chocolate isn't sounding so bad, is it?" he said dryly.
"Tch. Now who's not letting things go?" she quipped.
Likely she'd meant to hit his foot, but Becca knocked into the table stand instead. The kick had been a light one so the table barely shifted, but they both made a grab for their cups to keep them from spilling. Steve slowly removed his hand from her cup as Becca let out a relieved breath.
"Another thing you should know about me is that I'm a walking disaster."
"Swell." He feigned a sigh. "Is it too late to back out of this friendship?"
Becca gave him a look that implied she was thinking of giving him a better-aimed kick but then held up her hands.
"If you want to go back to your sad life of going to the gym and not having someone to take you on random adventures, by all means go back and stare at the walls of your apartment."
That hit a little close to the truth. Becca might be a touch overly enthusiastic, but after meeting her he was pretty sure his apartment was going to seem very dull when he returned to it. However…
"I don't think this qualifies as an adventure," he stated.
Becca opened her mouth, then shut it with a considering expression. Steve felt a moment of triumph for stumping her and then realized how ridiculous that was.
"Okay, this is a mini adventure," Becca conceded after some thought. She pursed her lips. "But next time will be a real one."
"Is this the part where I should be excited?"
Becca's eyes sparkled with mischief. "This is the part where you should be worried."
That didn't sound concerning at all. Well, really he was more curious than anything as to what Becca had in mind. This sounded like a challenge, and he never backed down from one of those.
"You actually make friends this way?"
"You'd be surprised," said Becca with a laugh. "Tell you what, if you want, you can give me your number, and I'll text you when I've got something lined up."
Steve had a cell phone and he even sort of knew how to use it, but there hadn't been any excuse to send a text. He watched Becca search through her purse. He also knew that texts would not go through regular phones. She could just call him, right? Talking on the phone would make him feel more at ease than an attempt to figure out how to use texting. Maybe it would be better if he called her?
"All right." Becca held a finger poised over the cell phone. "Lay it on me."
"I'll call you."
"What?" Her eyebrows furrowed. "How are you supposed to know when I've got something lined up, silly?"
"I…" What was he supposed to tell her? "I just got a new number so don't have it all memorized yet."
Becca stared at him. It wasn't a lie, but he saw that expression flicker over her face just the same. She didn't believe him.
"Oh…" Her voice sounded slightly subdued. "Okay, yeah I can… write my number down." She dropped her cell phone back and found a pen instead.
Steve ground his back teeth, feeling guilty. This was an experience he'd shared all too often. There were bunch of girls who he'd never heard from again. Only this wasn't the same because he actually did mean to call her. Even if he hadn't, the hurt that had pierced through her eyes before she pushed it away would have made him think twice.
"I really will call," he said softly.
"I believe you," Becca answered without looking up from the napkin she was writing on, not sounding like she had faith in him at all.
"I'm a bad liar, remember?"
Becca pushed the napkin across to him. She surveyed him and gave him a cautious smile. "The worst."
That was better. Steve didn't think she completely believed him, but at least she appeared less wounded.
"I should probably get back though," she said, scooting her chair back. "I have this deadline, and I didn't mean to be out so long."
"Sure."
He swallowed the rest of his shake while he stood, not that there was much of it left. With Becca or not, he was definitely making a return trip. He took the napkin with her number and tucked it in his pants pocket, picking up his bag with his free hand. Avoiding the couple who were standing patiently near their table, he tossed his cup into the trash and made sure to get to the door before Becca so he could take it from the person waiting in line.
"Thanks," she murmured.
"You're welcome." Steve handed the door back and rapidly took a couple of steps to catch up to her. "I'll walk you back."
"That's sweet of you," she said, looking a bit puzzled. "But I'm all right."
"It's not any trouble," he assured her.
"I think I can make it. I'm a big girl. I can tie my own shoes and everything."
"You're on my way."
"No, I'm not," she laughed. "You're making that up."
Steve shrugged. She was probably right. He had no idea where Becca lived, but he felt like he should walk her home regardless.
She must have come to a decision about him because she said with assurance, "You really are going to call me, aren't you?"
"I said I would."
"I didn't believe you."
"I noticed. What made you change your mind?" he asked.
She leaned toward him and explained in a conspiratorial whisper, "No one insists on walking a girl home that they never intend to see again."
"Right." He let the silence hang for a minute. "Does this mean I can walk you back?"
She laughed again. "Is your apartment this way?" Becca gestured with her thumb down a street that was definitely not in the direction of his apartment.
"No," he admitted.
"Then, not a chance." Becca held out her right hand, and Steve shook it. "Bye, Steve."
"Bye, Becca."
Steve watched her back retreating for a couple of seconds before turning in the opposite direction. He might still be trying to catch up with this century, but he thought that in Becca maybe he'd found someone who would make him feel a little less out of place.
Author's Note:
Thus began the great adventures of Steve and Becca. Meaning there is going to be lots of sassing.
So this chapter included the first Steve POV. I'm both nervous and excited to be working with the perspective of an established character. My experience lies more in the realm of OCs, but I think that it is going to be important (and fun) to have both of their POVS. Expect to get a peek into both of their heads during every chapter from here on out.
Finally, thanks for the support! The next chapter should be up before Christmas.
