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Page 15
The place is quiet for once, with only two squealing toddlers and their mom this time, both on the opposite side of the room. The rest of the shop is just Cat and me.
“Are you Cat, the hot girl I heard I should meet?” I say to her as I approach.
“That I am.” She gets to her feet and touches my shoulder with her hand. “Are you ready for the ice cream of a lifetime, oh wonderfully charismatic stranger?”
“Ummmmm hell yes.”
I take her hand then, and we walk over to the cashier, laughing at each other’s stupidity. “Can I help you?” the same cashier from before asks, recognizing us. I don’t mean to brag, of course, but we’re pretty damn popular in the world of children’s ice cream.
I glance at Cat, who squeezes my hand, and I turn back to the cashier. “Boy could you, Sharon…”
“I’m well aware, West,” Sharon responds, suppressing a little smile.
I quirk my eyebrow and scan the freezer, as if it’s actually a possibility that I’ll choose a different ice cream flavor than always, even though we all know it isn’t.
“I will have your finest vanilla ice cream,” I say at last. “With sprinkles and a cherry and in a kiddy cone, please.”
“And what kind of sprinkles would you like, sir?” she says just to get me going. I can’t help but notice the irony of her calling a sixteen-year-old boy who is ordering a rainbow-sprinkled vanilla ice cream in a kiddy cone “sir.” But I like it anyway.
“Rainbow sprinkles. They are what make the world go ‘round. Literally.”
“I’m well aware. A world without rainbow sprinkles is a world without happiness.”
“Yes!” I say too loudly. Then I turn to Cat. “See, Red Velvet? Someone who gets me!”
Cat rolls her eyes.
“And you?” Sharon asks Cat.
“The same thing,” she says, “but with chocolate sprinkles, please.” She shoots me a look.
“Wow,” I say, feigning a gasp. “No rainbow sprinkles? Some nerve you have there, woman.”
She melodramatically tosses her hair. “I guess you could see I’m feeling gutsy today.”
“Oh really? Is that hot shirtless stranger rubbing off on you?” I ask.
“Maybe so.”
Once the ice cream is done, we pay Sharon, thank her for her “continued support in the children’s ice cream industry,” grab our cones, and sit down. This time, though, Cat does not sit opposite me. She pulls up a chair directly next to mine, nudges my shoulder, and it feels so good to be this close to her.
“Whatcha got there?” Cat says, pointing at the wrapped-up cake under my arm.
“Oh, just the greatest birthday present in the history of the world. No bigs.”
“For me?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.
“No, no, of course not. I’m just holding it for a friend.”
She rolls her eyes. “One day, I’m going to be damned for falling in love with someone so weird.”
“And thank god this is not that day.” I slide the present over to her across the table. “Open it,” I say.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. As long as you promise to prepare for badassery.”
Cat laughs a little. “I promise.”
Then, she glances down, tears off the bow, rips apart the striped Harry Potter wrapping paper, and slowly lifts the tinfoil underneath to reveal a giant, chocolate-gummy-worm-Oreo cake with old pictures of us forming a fence around the side.
She covers her mouth with her hand. “West, this is perfect,” she whispers and just stares at the gift. “You are an effing fantastic cook.” She touches her finger to the first photograph, then sifts through all twelve, her mouth curling into a huge grin and her eyes so bright it makes my whole body come to life.
“Oh, I could so kiss you right now,” she continues. Then, she leans closer. “You know. That doesn’t sound like such a bad idea after all… shall we?”
A flicker of a smile crosses my lips. “Nuh-uh-uh! Not yet.”
“Why not?” she says, clearly amused.
“Because first, ICE CREAM EATING CONTEST!”
Cat shoots me a look. “Fine. But you’re so going down, Ryder.”
“Oh, Red Velvet, we’ll see about that,” I say, giving her my best intimidation face, in which I wave my hand in front of my eyes like I’ve seen wrestlers do. It fails miserably, and she starts cracking up.
“Oh yeah?” she says.
“Oh yeah.”
“Then let’s do this.”
“Yes. Let’s.”
We grab our ice creams at almost the exact same time.
“Ready,” she says, and it’s a total déjà vu moment.
“Set,” I say.
We smile at each other, our eyes locking, leaning toward our ice creams. “GO!!!!!!!!!!”
Immediately, I pounce on the ice cream and eat it so fast my teeth seem to freeze from its coldness. Cat and I get weird looks from all around us, but it’s not like we even care. I keep eating and eating, letting the cool ice cream slide down my throat, watching Cat shove the cone literally at her face, and I find myself suppressing a laugh. Finally, when I pull away from the ice cream, it’s just the cherry left, along with a few splotches of ice cream on the table. Cat has already finished, though, and I laugh when I see the vanilla still smeared across her lips.
She shoots me a look. “I guess I win that,” she says.
“There are no victors here,” I say. “Only me and everyone else.”
There’s a pause, and we both just sit there, squeezing each other’s hands and smiling.
“You know,” Cat says after a few minutes, “it’s funny how love is so complicated and yet sometimes, it’s as simple as your vlog.”
“How so?” I ask, frowning. “Please don’t get overly-sentimental on me, Red Velvet.”
She rolls her eyes. “Well, sometimes love is right in front of you the whole time, even if you don’t realize it. And, like your vlog, all you have to do is click to subscribe.”
I raise my eyebrow. “That’s a terrible a metaphor.”
She laughs. “Dude, I know. I have nothing to say, okay!”
She sighs, and then I look at her—really look at her. She is glowing, like seriously glowing. Her smile makes me smile, her long red hair always manages to take my breath away, and her vanilla ice cream-covered lips just prove to me what a fantastically awesome dork she is.
And I love her.
I really do.
“So about that kiss…?” Cat whispers.
I smile. “Yes,” I breathe, “I’m ready.” Then, I lean in, and I kiss the ice cream off her lips.
Epilogue
Cat and I aren’t married now. We don’t have kids, a happy family, a perfect life. But one thing we do have is each other—and that’s something that will never, ever leave us. As of yesterday we’ve been dating for six months, and so Cat and I decided the milestone called for a celebration. So we came here.
I haven’t posted a vlog in months. I’ve been too busy thinking about Cat to be funny or at all interesting, really. My last vlog post, after the one where I spilled my thoughts about Cat and my dad to the camera, was with Cat—a victory vlog, you can call it—and we laughed and flirted and were entirely awkward the whole time. It was probably the worst video I’ve ever filmed, with the only point to “show off how happy I am,” but I don’t even care, because now things are different.
Now I’m in love.
I sigh. Just thinking about Cat brings a smile to my lips. Trust me, that is a hell of a lot of smiles.
I sit on the grass next to the driveway as Cat pulls in with her car. A slight breeze ruffles my hair as I look out at the ocean stretching in front of me, off into the distance. Seagulls fly everywhere above us, squawking and diving for clams or whatever, and I listen to the rhythmic crashing of waves onto the sand, the distant laughs of neighbors on their own beaches, and the rumble of trucks driving by.
When Cat steps out of her car, I turn m
y head to her, shielding the sun with my left hand, and smiling.
“Hey you,” I say as she approaches. Then, I nod to the car. It’s sleek and slim with perfect, glossy-red paint, and it looks brand new, even though it’s ten years old. “Your dad’s Mercedes is also looking pretttty freaking nice. You did an awesome job fixing it.”
She sits down next to me, smiling too. “You mean we did an awesome job fixing it.”
I hold up my hands. “Can’t argue with that! I’m just glad we were finally able to use it.”
“Me too,” she says, and then, as I look at her, I can’t help but put my arm around her. She leans her head into my shoulder and, with the wind whipping against us, we stare out at the horizon and the water and sand of the beach below.
“It’s beautiful,” I breathe, because as I take in my surroundings I realize that it really is just that: beautiful. But even more beautiful than the beach is Cat and the feeling she gives me. With my arm around her it’s like I’m omnipotent, like her warmth is my Kryptonite.
“It is.” I follow her gaze to the giant, all-wood beach house to our right. “And that, West Ryder, is the holy grail of beach houses. My grandfather was a genius when it came to buying real estate.”
“For sure. This is going to be a perfect week away from the rest of the world. Just you and me,” I whisper.
She nods. “I always told you that when I fixed up that Mercedes, I’d take the boy of my dreams here.” She turns to me, her blue eyes sparkling. “And I was right.”
Then, she leans in, and with the sun shining down on our backs, our lips lock.
Acknowledgements
As I write these acknowledgements, I still can’t believe that this is really happening. (I’m not dreaming this all up, right? My book is seriously being published?)
I would not be here today without my fabulous critique partners Joy and Stephanie. Thank you for listening to my pointless rants and for making me a better writer. And to AJOMA, my writer’s group, who may or may not ever read this—you guys seriously rock my world. I am so appreciative of the random late-night chats, the weirdness, and the constant support. I’d be lost without all you.
I would also like to thank Tristina Wright and Allie Brennan for beta-reading this book on a moment’s notice and for providing such insightful feedback. Click could not have happened without you. Much love, as well, to B Design, for taking my very rough vision of a book cover and turning it into something so utterly perfect. I could not have asked for a better design.
To bloggers Anna Reads Romance, Just A Book Lover, Candy Coated Book Blog, I Heart Books, Books Over Boys, Can’t Read Just One, and to authors Helen Boswell, Alessandra Thomas, Laura Howard, Katy Evans, Priya Kanaparti, Leigh Ann Kopans, Adriane Boyd, Cora Carmack, Beth Michele, and all of the other amazing bloggers and authors who have helped me along the way —your support has made me feel so much more confident in this decision. Thank you.
I am also eternally grateful for John Green, Colleen Hoover, and the other YA and NA authors out there whose books and absolutely amazing characters have given me the courage to publish my own.
Last of all, I want to thank everyone who reads Click To Subscribe. Whether you liked it or not (although I hope you do enjoy it, obviously!) it means so much to me that you gave this little story a chance.
About L.M. Augustine
L.M. Augustine is a YA romance author who is obsessed with writing about dorky teenagers, love, and happy endings. He currently lives in New England, where he spends far too much time reading books and screaming at his computer, and he believes that the solution to the world’s problems can be found in chocolate cake. Click To Subscribe is his first novel, but it won’t be his last. Feel free to follow his Facebook page, his Twitter account, and/or his blog for book news, random GIFs, and overall just plain strangeness.
P.S. I love my readers to death, so feel free to get in touch! I’ll do my best to respond to all emails/tweets/FB posts ASAP.
Email: authoraugustine@gmail.com
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