Just a little oneshot that popped into my head.

So what if I like ice cream? I happen to like it a lot. That's the reason I go to Freezle's every Tuesday, Friday, and Saturday night at a time between five and ten. It has nothing to do with the fact that those are the hours Tony Valinti works. Nothing.

So what if I like caramel mocha fudge, which happens to be the hardest flavor to scoop? That's the reason I order a double scoop on a small sugar cone every time I go to Freezle's. It has nothing to do with how the muscle in Tony's arms bunches and tenses under his olive skin as he digs my ice cream from the big round container. Nothing.

So what if I eat an abnormally large amount of ice cream per week? I play soccer three hours a day, every day. I can work it off. And that's what I coolly inform Tony of every time he brings it up when I arrive with the tinkling of the bell adorning Freezle's door. I get cravings from low blood sugar because I exercise so much. That's the reason I come here after practice, although not after forcibly wrangling my sweaty hair into a new, neater ponytail and reapplying mascara and lip gloss. It has nothing to do with seeing Tony working, or watching the way he talks to the kids ordering as if they're grown ups faced with a serious decision when trying to choose between watermelon blast and gooey fudge cookie dough. Nothing.

So what if after awhile Tony doesn't even bother asking what I want anymore, but just moves toward the right container as soon as I walk towards the counter? I'm a pretty consistent customer. I always get my double scoop of caramel mocha fudge in a small sugar cone from Tony, standing and chatting as his arm muscles coil battling to free the hard ice cream from the container, and then plop down in the seat nearest the cash register to watch little kids with glowing eyes order from Tony, who listens and treats them as if they're all the most important order of the day. That's the reason he knows what I want and always says something cute or witty as he hands me my ice cream with just the barest brush of his cold fingers on my skin. It has nothing to do with the possibility he might look forward to my visits. Nothing.

So what if I spend my Friday nights here instead of third wheeling with my friends who are couples? I prefer ice cream and the friendly bustle of Freezle's to a dark, pounding club filled with horny bodies. That's the reason I don't go out like a normal senior on those infamous Friday night outings. It has nothing to do with the fact that at Freezle's I can talk to Tony for as long as I want, and that I've liked him since the seventh grade. Absolutely nothing.

So what if when I showed up on Tuesday at 7:30 I was met with Cindy instead of Tony, and she said he was on a date and she was covering for him? It's not like I was disappointed or anything. I still got my double scoop of caramel mocha fudge in a small sugar cone, even if the scoops were misshapen and smaller because Cindy wasn't as strong as Tony and had difficulty with the hard and stubborn ice cream. That's the reason I was a little hollow inside that night, because I hadn't eaten as much ice cream as I usually did since Tony always gave me such big, generous scoops. It had nothing to do with the fact that he was on a date with Carrie Montgarren and she was a gorgeous redhead with a reputation for seduction while I sat there in Freezle's with my sweaty soccer clothes on halfheartedly licking an ice cream cone. Nothing at all.

So what if I decided to go out that Friday night with Damien Lontean instead of making my usual visit to Freezle's? It was really time for a change of routine. If I ate all that ice cream all the time soon enough I would start putting on pounds. Damien was cute and witty, and in the dark, pounding club we hit he pulled me tight against him and reminded me I was wearing a short red halter dress and gold heels instead of soccer sweats and slippers, grinding against a guy on a date instead of eating ice cream and chatting with the server, an independent woman capable of seduction instead of a lonely girl halfheartedly licking an ice cream cone. I reminded myself of the fact that all that ice cream would probably only lead to fat thighs. That was the reason I didn't show up at Freezle's on Friday night. It had nothing to do with the fact that my heart was stung with rejection that Tony was on a date with a beautiful junior while I had given up so much time trying to get closer to him. Nothing in the least.

So what if my cravings for ice cream were too strong and I decided the risk of fat thighs was worth going to get my usual Saturday night ice cream? I had weak willpower and a loud stomach. That was the reason I caved and went to Freezle's that night, and why a torrent of relief flooded my stomach when I saw Tony standing behind the counter instead of Cindy. He could scoop me properly large scoops of caramel mocha fudge. It had nothing to do with Damien's lips on mine only making me wish he was Tony instead of helping me forget about the scooper like I had hoped for. Nothing.

So what if I smiled a little too widely when Tony asked where I had been last night, and a tiny flower of hope blossomed in my heart at his unconscious frown when I told him I was on a date with Damien Lontean? It wasn't like I had been hoping he would ask why I hadn't been at Freezle's on a Friday night like I had every week for the past two months. I was just glad he cared about Freezle's customers. That was the reason I held eye contact a second longer than usual as he handed me my small sugar cone, our fingers overlapping as I accepted my ice cream. It had nothing to do with the hope that he would realize I wasn't just a girl who bought ice cream three times a week in sweaty soccer clothes, but s girl who could wear a red halter dress and gold heels and be seductive in a dark, pounding club if he wanted me to. Nothing at all, not even remotely.

So what if I never missed another visit to Freezle's on a Tuesday, Friday or Saturday between five and ten again? I really was hopelessly addicted to their ice cream, and Tony was the only scooper who I trusted with my order. It was obvious to me from watching his strong arms dole out the hardest ice cream Freezle's had that Tony was capable of giving me the exact ice cream I wanted. That was the reason I visited during his work hours three times a week and stayed until the end of his shift to chat across the counter while he served little kids with huge glowing eyes. It had nothing to do with the fact that I hoped he understood that I would be waiting for him whenever he asked. Nothing in the least.

So what if the next Friday when I showed up at six thirty after soccer practice with sweaty clothes, newly applied mascara and lipgloss, and a carefully fixed ponytail Tony's eyes lit up and he started scooping before I had even taken two steps inside? He was an efficient worker who cared about his customers' happiness. That's the reason that when he handed me the double scoop of caramel mocha fudge in a small sugar cone Tony cleared his throat and said, "There are other flavor besides your usual, Jill. If you want, I can take you out tomorrow night and show you." It had nothing to do with the possibility that he liked me and didn't want any chance of Damien Lontean being able to take me to a club in a red halter dress and gold heels ever again. Not anything at all.

So what if I smiled across the counter and agreed, internally dancing for joy? This was what I had wanted since the seventh grade. Tony Valinti, with his smooth, olive skinned, muscular arms and adorable caring way with little kids. This was what I had eaten ice cream at Freezle's three times a week for almost three months for.

And the next day when he kissed me and teasingly said he was sure I would taste like caramel mocha fudge ice cream, I laughed and reminded him that if it weren't for me, he wouldn't have gotten such phenomenal arm strength from getting me my double scoop of the hardest ice cream in Freezle's three times a week for almost three months. And in reply to that, he thanked me solemnly and told me that secretly, I was his favorite customer.

I laughed again, wrapping my arms around his neck and kissing him again in response. Because he was my favorite scooper, and I had wanted this since the seventh grade. Those were the reasons that after that date, Tony and I became the couple who didn't go out on Friday nights to dark, pounding clubs because we were in Freezle's ice cream parlor laughing and chatting as he doled out cones to excited little kids with big, glowing eyes.

And it had everything to do with love. Absolutely everything.

Happy Thanksgiving! (: review please?