by Anna Martin
“How long have you worked here?”
“Damn. Coming up to two years now.” Drew took a swig of his water. “Time flies.”
“And what do you actually do?” Cooper was looking at him now with narrowed eyes, like he was trying to figure something out.
“Shh,” Drew said, grinning and pressing a finger to his lips.
“Drew.”
“I genuinely can’t tell you while we’re here.”
“Really?”
“Really. I’ll tell you later, though.”
“Okay,” Cooper said, but he still sounded suspicious.
The evening had started to cool a little, and Cooper took his shirt from where it had been tied around his waist and shrugged it on again.
“Cold?” Drew asked.
“Not anymore.”
“You want to head out? It’s not like we can’t come back anytime you like.”
Cooper grinned at that. “Okay. I want to go on the haunted house next time.”
“We can do that.”
The park was just starting to fill up again in anticipation of the nighttime parade and fireworks, the perfect time to slip away before it got too busy. Drew took the familiar route back to the staff parking lot and opened the car door for Cooper to slide in.
“There’s a sweater in the back if you want it,” Drew said. “I don’t feel like putting the top back up.”
Cooper rummaged through the junk that had accumulated and came up with a rusty orange Oregon State hoodie.
“The Beavers?” he teased, pulling the sweater on over his head.
“Hey. The Beavers are ferocious,” Drew said. “Oregon State has a really good theater program.”
“So tell me what you do,” Cooper said, shifting in his seat and angling himself to look at Drew full-on.
“I’m a friend of the princes.”
“What the fuck does that mean.”
His delivery was so deadpan, Drew had to laugh.
“We’re not allowed to say, ‘I’m Prince Charming at Disneyland’ in case a kid overhears us. That would ruin the illusion that we’re the actual princes, which is what they’re supposed to believe. So we say we’re a ‘friend of’ whoever.”
“So you’re Prince Charming?”
“Not so much,” Drew said. “I’m not quite tall enough to be Charming. I usually play Prince Phillip, Kristoff from Frozen, Flynn from Tangled, Bert from Mary Poppins, any of the male characters who wear wigs… um…. Did you know they have Captain America over in California Adventure now? I do that occasionally, though I’m not really muscular enough. That’s only when the regular guy is on vacation or something. And once I was Hercules in a Halloween party.”
“Do you do the accents and everything?”
“Yep.”
“Seriously, Drew? I thought you wore a goofy costume and strapped people into rides or something. I didn’t think you were a freaking prince.”
“Goofy isn’t allowed to strap people into rides,” Drew said, his face solemn and earnest. “It wouldn’t be safe.”
“I genuinely hate you right now.”
He laughed again. “Sorry. Habit.”
“Do you like it?” Cooper asked. There was a little furrow between his brows, like he was working something out.
“Of course I do. I wouldn’t have been doing it for two years if I didn’t.”
“Hmm.”
Drew put the radio on as they hit the highway and let the music carry them back to Cooper’s apartment. It was quiet here, dark and calm.
As they turned into Cooper’s neighborhood, he gave Drew directions back to his apartment block. Everything looked different in the dark.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting to go to Disneyland today,” Cooper said as Drew pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. “But it was pretty awesome. So thank you.”
“No problem. Anytime.”
“So, will you be stopping by for ice cream soon? Or now that you have my number has that ship sailed?”
Drew laughed. “You guys have really good ice cream.”
Cooper shook his head. “You’re the worst at flirting, like, ever.”
“Can I get a kiss good night?”
“You’re definitely charming,” Cooper said, and leaned over to brush their lips together.
Drew let his hand drift to Cooper’s jaw and held him gently, guiding their mouths together in a sweet, easy kiss.
“I’ll speak to you soon?” Drew said, rubbing his thumb along Cooper’s cheekbone.
“Sounds good. Night, Drew.”
Drew kissed him again. “Good night.”
Chapter Three
Thank God for text messages.
Cooper didn’t usually keep his phone in his apron at work; he was supposed to be in charge, and it didn’t set a good example for everyone else. But with both his and Drew’s busy schedules, it was the best way for them to keep in touch.
And apparently, Drew was a texter. Cooper was getting used to his daily good morning messages, and Drew always made sure to send a “Good night, gorgeous” before he went to sleep. It was cute, and Cooper was pretending hard not to be completely enamored by the habit.
It did mean, though, that Cooper ended up with his phone in his apron most days, waiting for the familiar buzz against his thigh.
To Cooper’s initial surprise, his job at the Dreamy Creamery was becoming more than a stopgap. He’d started with little more than basic experience, and Alana had trained him up to be able to make the ice cream. All the ingredients were delivered fresh every few days, and Cooper had learned the subtle art of ice cream making.
The recipes had been bought, standard, from the manufacturer of the machines they used, but it didn’t take long for Cooper to start tweaking them. The mint chocolate chip was a little too sweet; he changed the process and boiled milk and cream with fresh mint leaves. No more manufactured mint flavor—his results were fresh and subtle, and the switch from semisweet chocolate chips to hand-shaved dark chocolate finished the recipe perfectly.
That was only the start of it.
With his boss’s approval, Cooper had become an ice-cream alchemist in the tiny kitchen at the back of the store. He worked through each of the flavors in turn, often relying on Alana as his taste tester when he felt his body starting to reject the lactose. She laughed every time he came out with something new, as he tried not to wince when his stomach ached.
The kitchen was his playground. Most mornings Cooper arrived by eight and started the process of inventory and stock checking. Product needed to chill and firm up overnight, so he would restock the front-of-house freezers with yesterday’s creations before starting on the new batches. If they ran out of a certain flavor, they were out, and that was that. There wasn’t a massive storeroom out back with months of product stored up. Cooper wanted his ice cream to be as fresh as it could be, and that meant no stockpiling. He’d become pretty good at anticipating stock levels and demand, so running out rarely happened.
At Alana’s suggestion, Cooper had started creating seasonal specials that rotated every month or so. He was working a few months in advance on recipes, just so he was prepared. Next month was going to be a pistachio-raspberry swirl.
With all of the paperwork completed, Cooper washed up and moved over to the other side of the kitchen to start prepping. They were low on lemon meringue, this month’s special, so he started with that. Fresh lemons, naturally, the peel carefully shredded and candied. The rest of the lemon flesh went into a pot on the stove, ready to make the lemon curd.
When he’d first come up with this idea, he had wanted tiny little individual meringues dotted through the ice cream. But that was almost impossibly difficult, and he gave up on the idea early on. Instead he made several large meringues in the low, industrial ovens, then smashed them to bits before stirring it into the vanilla ice cream.
They had three big, commercial ice cream mixers in the back kitchen, and Cooper had figured out how to time it so he cou
ld have all three running at the same time. This early morning work was soothing, in its own way; he could hum along to the radio, in his own little world, with no distractions for the first few hours before Alana showed up.
When his phone buzzed, Cooper almost jumped out of his skin.
He pulled it out of the apron with a little laugh, wiping his forearm over his head. It had gotten warm in the kitchen, and he went to the AC to crank it up.
The message was from Drew, of course, his “Good morning, how are you?” text that Cooper secretly loved.
Before replying, Cooper fixed a pot of coffee, expecting Alana to arrive anytime. And Alana needed coffee. Especially in the mornings.
She turned up just as Cooper had finished sending his “Fine, how are you?” message, sure that Drew would get the “Zip-a-Dee-Doo-Dah” reference. He decided to whistle the tune, even more certain that it would bug the hell out of Alana.
“You are disgusting in the mornings,” she said, not removing her sunglasses as she stepped into the kitchen.
“Only because you hate it so much.”
“Weatherman said it’s gonna be another unseasonable scorcher today,” she announced as she strode purposefully toward the coffee machine.
“Yippee,” Cooper deadpanned. “At least we’re in the best place to deal with it.”
“You will never know how grateful I am that I work here and not in a regular kitchen. I should move to Alaska.”
“But then you’d miss me,” he teased.
Alana took the first slurp of her coffee.
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that if I were you.”
Cooper had just finished serving a family with five kids, the whole family wearing matching Disney T-shirts, when he noticed Drew leaning against the fence that separated the store from the parking lot. Drew was on his phone and looked up as Cooper’s customers moved away from the window.
Cooper held two fingers up, mouthed, “Two minutes,” and ducked back into the store.
“Hey, Alana,” he called. “I’m taking a smoke break.”
“You don’t smoke,” she said, tucking her tongue into her cheek and crossing her arms over her chest.
“Thanks, Alana,” he sang.
Cooper didn’t make friends easily, and neither did Alana, which was maybe what drew them to each other. She was quiet and sarcastic, witty and dry, and Cooper got her sense of humor immediately. Alana made him laugh.
She was a few years older than him and styled herself like a goth who had grown out of her goth phase, but still appreciated the aesthetic. That meant Doc Marten boots and ripped tights and short shift dresses when she was out of work, and black jeans and winged eyeliner when she was in.
Cooper walked right by her and out the back, ducking out of his apron and hanging it on the back door. The blast of warm air hit him in the face, and he exhaled heavily, blowing his hair back from his forehead.
“Damn hot,” he muttered to himself, pushing his hair back as he walked around the building.
Drew was waiting, wearing workout gear again—a navy T-shirt stretched tight across his chest and loose shorts.
“Hey, hot stuff,” Cooper said with a grin.
“Hey yourself. Thought I’d stop by, say hi, see if you wanted to go out for dinner tonight.”
Cooper grinned and leaned in to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Drew’s mouth. “Can’t. I have to work.”
“Damn. Tomorrow?”
“I pull doubles three nights a week. My next day off is Monday.”
Drew hummed low in his throat and reached out to run his hands up and down Cooper’s arms. “Okay. I have Monday off too, if you want to spend the day together? Do I sound too desperate now?”
“No.” Cooper felt the smile tugging at his mouth, no matter how hard he tried to fight it back. “Monday’s good for me.”
“Okay.”
“Okay.”
Drew looked at him for a moment, then leaned in and brushed their mouths together. Cooper pushed back, close-lipped, then pulled away sharply.
“Not in front of customers,” he murmured, aware he was still in uniform. “Come on.”
He slipped his hand into Drew’s and tugged, taking him around to the back of the building where people who did smoke took their break. Here he was free to reach up and thread his fingers into Drew’s hair, tugging his mouth down for a slow, intense kiss.
From there, it got worse.
Drew hitched up his shirt and got his palms onto the bare skin of Cooper’s waist, steadying him as their kiss grew hotter. His thumbs stroked back and forth over Cooper’s hipbones, and goddammit, Cooper knew he was chubbing up.
It was filthy, the way Drew licked into his mouth, fingers tightening on Cooper’s waist. Drew was taller, meaning Cooper had to roll up into the kisses, reaching for that sweet slide of tongue-on-tongue.
“Fuck,” Cooper muttered, pulling away, and Drew laughed.
“Yeah. Fuck.”
Cooper pressed another wet kiss to Drew’s lips, then stepped back with real regret. “I have to go back to work before I fuck you up against a dumpster.”
“That would be… inelegant.”
“Yeah. You want anything before you go?”
Drew quirked an eyebrow and took a step forward, reaching for Cooper’s waist again.
“Except that, Mister.”
“Damn. Nah, I’m gonna head to the gym.”
“Okay.” Cooper knew he was grinning like an idiot and made no attempt to hide it. “I’ll see you on Monday?”
“Yeah. I’ll text you. We can make plans.”
“See you later.”
Drew stole another kiss before he jogged away, laughing, and Cooper wished he did smoke because hot damn, he needed one after that.
He took a moment to compose himself, then ducked back into the building.
“Nice break?” Alana asked, way too innocent for Cooper’s liking.
“Lovely, thank you.” He wrapped his apron back around his waist, washed his hands, then went out back to check stock levels. Predictably, Alana followed him.
“Don’t you have work to do?”
“I’m taking a break,” she said sweetly, hopping up to sit on one of the big chest freezers. “Tell me about your hottie.”
“Drew.”
“Yes, Drew the hottie.”
“He took me to Disneyland.”
“He didn’t,” she laughed.
“Totally did. We spent the afternoon there. Then he took me home and kissed me good night. I feel like I’m in a romantic comedy, Alana.”
“You didn’t fuck him?”
“No! He’s not, like, a Grindr hookup. He’s not one of those guys you fuck and never see again. He wants to date me.”
“Do you even know how to do that?”
“Hey,” Cooper protested. “I date.”
“Since you got here?”
“There was that one guy.”
Alana tipped her head back in exasperation. “Please tell me you’re not talking about Matt.”
“He was nice!”
“He was a total dick who didn’t want to be seen in public with you in case anyone thought he was gay.”
Cooper pulled his clipboard from the back of the door, the one that had his checklist on it. There were two stock freezers back here, so he could easily start with the one Alana wasn’t sitting on.
“Maybe I was just waiting for the right guy.”
“Cooper Reed,” Alana said, sounding gleefully scandalized. “Are you a closet romantic?”
He quirked an eyebrow at her. “Maybe.”
“Well, let me know how it works out for you. I could be tempted to change my mind.”
“You, Alana?” Cooper said. “Never.”
Cooper was not nervous. Absolutely not. He didn’t get nervous.
If he’d changed three times so far this morning, that was just because he didn’t know what the weather was going to be like.
It was California in April. The
weather was going to be fine.
His phone buzzed with a message.
I’m outside. Want me to come up?
Cooper had cleaned up, just in case, but there was no need to jump the gun. Plus, he was scared that once he got Drew alone and in the vicinity of flat surfaces, he wouldn’t be able to control himself.
I’m on my way down, he sent back.
He shoved his wallet into his jeans pocket and grabbed his keys from the bowl next to the door. It only took a minute to jog down to the parking lot and slide into Drew’s car.
“Hey,” he said, leaning across to kiss Drew, quick and sweet. “How are you?”
“Good.” Drew kissed back slower and squeezed Cooper’s thigh. “You look great, by the way.”
“Thanks.”
“So, I thought we could go down to Venice.”
“Do you have roller skates? Are we going to skate down the street holding hands?”
Drew’s face fell, and Cooper hated himself. “I’m only messing with you,” he said, pushing at Drew’s shoulder. “That sounds great.”
“You sure? We can do something else if you prefer.”
“No, I’m just a sarcastic shit. Ignore me. Venice sounds perfect.”
“Okay,” Drew said, and turned the car over.
It really was the perfect day for just walking along with no place to go, no rush, no pressure. The temperature danced around the mid-80s, the sea breeze gently licking at their skin. Cooper would be the first to admit he wasn’t normally a beach sort of person. He had been terrible at surfing when he’d tried it in his teenage years, and unlike most of his peers, the thought of having sex on the beach was slightly terrifying rather than lustily erotic. Just imagining all the places the sand could get made him want to shudder in horror.
He couldn’t tell Drew that, though. Not sweet, earnest Drew, who just wanted to take him somewhere nice.
And with Drew, it was nice. For the first half hour or so, Cooper kept reminding himself this was supposed to be fun. After a while, it hit him—he didn’t need to keep repeating it. He really was having a good time.
Venice was one of those weird places where the new and old clashed together wonderfully. Cooper found he loved all the street art, the brightly colored storefronts, the performers along the boardwalk hawking for trade from the tourists. The tall palm trees waved lazily back and forth in the wind, and the ocean turned to white foam as it crashed onto the beach. As long as Cooper could stay up on the boardwalk, it was perfect.