A SECOND CHANCE AT FOREVER Chapter 100: CHAPTER HUNDRED

ASHLEY

The little bell above the door jingled as we entered, and the teenager behind the counter gave us an odd look. I didn’t blame him—two grown adults walking into an ice cream shop at almost 10:30 p.m., laughing like we had just escaped a wild animal attack? Yeah, we probably looked insane.

Kyle leaned casually against the counter, clearly at home in this environment, while I stood to the side, trying to act like I wasn’t still giggling under my breath.

The teenager glanced at the clock  but didn’t say anything. He just started scooping. “What can I get you?”

Kyle grinned, clearly enjoying this moment. “I’ll take the largest possible cup of mint chocolate chip. It’s a healing flavor.”

I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “You’ve been traumatized by a squirrel, and now you’re going to make mint chocolate chip your emotional support ice cream?”

He looked at me, deadpan. “It’s a proven method. You wouldn’t understand.”

“I’d like to understand why you hate sprinkles so much,” I said, crossing my arms as I leaned against the counter. “It’s an essential part of the experience. You can’t just skip them.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow, his lips twitching upward. “Sprinkles are an unnecessary distraction. It’s all about the ice cream, not the decorations.”

I opened my mouth to argue but stopped when I noticed the cashier was waiting on me. “Chocolate, no toppings,” I said, glancing at him for a moment before looking back at Kyle. “Keep it simple. I can’t deal with the ‘fluff.’”

“‘Fluff,’ huh? You’re one of those people.” Kyle was clearly entertained by this. “You know, I do like the simplicity of chocolate. Can’t say I blame you.”

“You’re just trying to make me look boring,” I said, but the amusement was still in my voice.

The cashier finished our order and slid the cups to us. I grabbed my chocolate cup and moved toward a table by the window. Kyle followed, still chuckling, and I tried to ignore the warmth creeping up in my chest.

We sat down, the ice cream soothing the chaos from earlier in the night. The air outside was cool and fresh, and the shop was quiet, with only a couple of other people scattered in the dim light. It felt nice. The usual weight of unsaid things wasn’t there, at least not yet.

Kyle took a big spoonful of his mint chocolate chip, then paused as if contemplating. “I’d say this is the most ridiculous night we’ve had in a while.”

“You ran from a squirrel,” I reminded him, still trying to wrap my brain around that entire moment.

“Let’s not revisit that,” he said quickly, but there was no hiding the smirk playing at his lips.

I shook my head, feeling the smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. “You really need to work on your reflexes, you know.”

He looked thoughtful for a second, then leaned forward slightly, lowering his voice as if he were about to make a serious confession. “Honestly, I’m just glad you didn’t push me out of the way and run off like you did last time.”

My gaze flicked to his, catching the quiet sincerity in his tone. My chest tightened, but I quickly shook it off, focusing on the ice cream to distract myself.

“You know,” I said, with a fake casualness, “I think we need a new rule. Next time I see a squirrel, I’m getting the hell out of the way.”

“Oh, don’t be like that.” Kyle’s grin was back in full force. “I’d protect you from any squirrel, no matter how vicious.”

“Right,” I muttered, but I couldn’t stop the small laugh that bubbled up. “You’d probably scream and leave me to fend for myself.”

He gasped, acting offended. “I’d never! That’s a low blow.”

We both fell into a comfortable silence after that, each of us lost in our ice cream, but it wasn’t awkward. There was a certain ease between us now, like the chaos of the night had created a shared bond, even if it was only temporary.

Kyle suddenly broke the silence, his voice quieter this time. “I didn’t expect this.”

I looked at him over my spoon. “Expect what?”

He leaned back in his seat, his expression thoughtful. “This. Us. I didn’t think we’d be sitting here, getting ice cream and—”

“And what?”

He looked at me with that mix of amusement and something deeper that I couldn't quite place. “And I didn’t think we’d be okay with it.”

I didn’t know how to respond. For the first time, I realized how easy it was to be around him when we weren’t fighting or discussing things from the past. It was like we were just two people, eating ice cream, letting the night pass by.

But I couldn’t let it go on forever, could I?

“You’re not here to apologize for your ‘squirrel heroism,’ are you?” I asked, trying to make the moment feel less heavy.

Kyle laughed softly, shaking his head. “No apologies necessary. I’m just here to make sure you’re still sane enough to enjoy ice cream at 10:30 on a Tuesday night.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re keeping tabs on my sanity,” I replied, but I didn’t feel the usual sharpness in my tone. Something about his presence made everything seem less urgent, like I didn’t have to worry about every little thing.

We were almost done with our ice cream when Kyle spoke up again. “Liam texted me.”

I froze for a second, the spoon halfway to my mouth. “What did he say?”

Kyle’s eyes softened, but his voice stayed calm. “He apologized. Said he wouldn’t be coming around anymore.”

I lowered my spoon, looking at him directly now. “And you’re okay with that?”

He met my gaze with a steady look. “Yeah. It was his choice. Not mine.”

A quiet understanding settled between us. I didn’t need to say anything. He had handled it, and it was over. The weight of it lifted, even if just for this moment.

Kyle leaned back again, a grin spreading across his face as he swirled his spoon through his ice cream. “So… do you come here often?”

I raised an eyebrow. “That was smooth. But no. I just don’t normally get ice cream this late.”

“Hey, I’m just trying to build a rapport. You know, convince you I’m worth more than just squirrel-fleeing moments.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “I’m starting to think you’re more of a menace than I realized.”

He leaned forward, his voice dropping slightly, just enough for me to feel the weight of it. “Maybe I am. But, I’d do it all again. If it meant I got to spend more time with you.”

For a second, I thought about pulling away, but the words didn’t sting the way they usually would. There was no pressure in them. Just truth. And for once, I didn’t feel like I needed to escape from it.