Waffle Cones (#1)

t i r a m i s u

"Sometimes, eating a thick slice of chocolate fudge cake with ice cream makes you a better person." – Dr. SunWolf, professorsunwolf.com

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Emily's POV

"In a while, crocodile..." Emily whispered, dejection seeping out of her voice.

Faint shouts on the other side of the call told her Fletcher was busy chewing out Erin. Emily cursed herself for not working up the courage to speak sooner. Her teeth grazed her bottom lip as she debated whether to catch his attention, but her cowardice won over. She hung up and set her phone on the desk. It laid there in stony silence, though the object also disapproved of her actions.

She had been so stupid to even pick up the phone and attempt to have a conversation with Fletcher. Why did she bother communicating with the subject of her pain? Calling him had the same effect as someone twisting a knife after stabbing it into her heart, and the reality was that Emily was causing herself pain. She was the one who drove the knife into her own chest, not once enabling any words or actions to mend the cracks of her broken heart.

As she sank into her squishy armchair, she absentmindedly fiddled with its loose threads. The more Emily thought about Fletcher, the more her anger towards him dissipated. Although time had flown by when she was spending each day laughing at Fletcher's wisecracks over the phone, time couldn't tick by any slower without him. She was a character trapped inside a movie, and the watcher had pressed pause. It was as though someone had wrapped bubble wrap around her head, dulling her senses. She was spiraling deeper into numbness, lacking Vitamin Fletcher.

Was this love? If there was so much heartbreak contained in a single arrow of Cupid, Emily would gladly refuse to be struck by one. Inevitable heartbreak was not worth experiencing more than once. Her gaze swept back to her phone, which vibrated like it was undergoing cardiac arrest. While her anger was fresh, she'd turned it on silent due to a constant stream of calls from Fletcher. The last thing Emily wanted was to see his name flash on her screen a dozen times a day.

A sigh escaped her lips, a breeze fluttering the paper on her desk at the same time. Nostalgia clasped its iron fist around her heart and squeezed tight, forcing Emily to yearn the sound of Fletcher's voice. A week had passed since their last conversation, so she steeled herself before answering the call. "Hello?"

"Hey Em, you free?" was the last sentence Emily expected to hear when she picked up the phone. It hadn't been spoken by Fletcher, but rather by Erin, whose chipper tone cut through her miserable demeanor like a loud voice during a hangover.

"Oh, it's you," Emily mumbled with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. "Also, I've told you a thousand times before. Don't call me Em."

"Whatcha gonna do about it?"

"I can tell Alex about that one time when you–"

"Woah there!" Erin exclaimed, her teasing manner evaporating at the mention of the incident. "Fine, your royal highness, I won't call you Em anymore." A pulse of silence allowed Emily to gather her thoughts before Erin chirped up once again. "What's up with you today? Does it have something to do with your brokenhearted bundle of a phone buddy, who refuses to leave the storage room of Waffle Cones in case you decide to call him?"

These words took a minute to process, but once Emily did, her mouth dropped open. An electric shock zipped through her veins and revitalized her thoughts. Her expression reflected the weak rays of a setting sun, warmth flooding her body as she realized Fletcher hadn't stopped caring for her. Nonetheless, she was shocked by his extreme measures."Why is he camping out in the storage room just for me?"