Back to December

Twenty-Three

"I say we take a detour," Wyatt announces. We've been driving for 20 minutes or so, headed home. We just finished dinner at the resort restaurant before all splitting up in our separate vehicles to head home. We all agreed to watch a movie when we got home, excluding Harper and Charlie, who are headed to some party.

"Wow," I shake my head, "you really don't wanna have family movie night, huh?"

"Or, maybe I just wanna spend more time with you," Wyatt corrects me, poking my arm with his finger. We were a lot less awkward than this morning. Everything felt natural between us, despite my feelings which were only growing stronger by the minute.

It didn't help that he kept saying things like this. It was like he was asking for me to fall for him.

"Okay, fine," I roll my eyes, biting my lower lip to repress my grin, "where are we going?"

"That is for me to know and you to find out," Wyatt informs me, typing something into his phone. Soon, the GPS is speaking to me, guiding me on where to go.

We're in the middle of nowhere, it seems. It was dark, and all I could see for miles ahead was just trees, "where are you taking me?" I ask him, my brows furrowing in confusion, "this looks like the kind of place people get murdered."

"Aw, shoot," Wyatt snaps his fingers, sighing, "you figured it out."

"Hilarious," I glare at him out of the corner of my eye. I don't stop asking questions about where we're going as the GPS leads us to our destination, and Wyatt doesn't stop answering with sarcasm. Not revealing where he's taking us.

It isn't until I see a bright marquee in the distance that I know what's happening. I completely forgot this place existed. The sign looks like it hasn't been updated in years. Some of the letters don't light up. Others flickered. Sprinkles ice cream, our parents used to take us here all the time whenever we had something to celebrate. Wyatt got a role in the school play, we came to Sprinkles. I got all A's on my report card, Sprinkles. Lizzie graduated High School, Sprinkles.

We haven't been here in years. This place had been another reminder of the Olivers. We stopped coming here shortly after that first Christmas without them.

"Oh my god," I shake my head, pulling into the parking lot. The roof was painted pink with white stripes, the rest of the building painted a pale pastel pink. "I completely forgot this was nearby."

"I did too," He admits, "mom reminded me at dinner. I figured we might as well come for old time's sake."

We both step out of the car, heading into the shop. The inside was exactly how I remember. Against the wall are booths. They're a mint green colour. In the center of the restaurant, there are a few tables for two, and finally, there was the cash. Where dozens of flavour options sat.

It smelt faintly of freshly made waffle cones, a scent I hadn't realized I was nostalgic for until this very second, "I'll order the usual, you save the booth?" Wyatt offers.

It's not very busy. There's an older couple sitting at one of the tables and a family sitting at the booth closest to the doors. I nod anyway, though, moving towards the booth in the center. Our booth.

The leather of the seat is worn slightly, wrinkling in certain areas. I sit, sliding over, so I'm next to the window, watching Wyatt as he orders, admiring him while he can't notice. The lady taking his order is old, meaning he doesn't have to duck his head to order or worry about her freaking out. He looks comfortable and relaxed, which made me feel the same.

A little bit later, when he turns around with our ice cream, I turn my attention towards my phone, pretending like I hadn't been watching him, "Alright, one banana split, two spoons." He announces. I look over at him. Our usual looks much smaller than I remember, but maybe it was because I'm much older.