Seth & Greyson (The Coincidence #7)(26)

“Okay… Yeah, but only on one condition.” The streetlights from outside reflect in his eyes as he smiles at me.

“And what’s the condition?”

“That we stop and get some ice cream. I have the drunk munchies.”

“Drunk munchies? I didn’t know that was a thing.”

“It’s kind of my thing.” He scoots closer to me. “Every time I get drunk, I feel like I’m starving.”

“Oh! I totally get that!” Jenna exclaims from the front seat and fist pumps the air, but ends up smacking herself in the face. “Ari, to the ice cream store!”

The three of us erupt in laughter and even Ari seems to get a kick out of it.

“I’ll get you ice cream,” he says, steering the car into the store parking lot. “But no more drinks for you.”

She waves him off and hops out of the car before it even comes to a full stop. The rest of us get out and chase her into the store, all the way to the frozen food section. We make our selections and I learn just how big an ice cream junkie Seth is when he chooses three flavors—mint, cookie dough, and chocolate chip.

“Please tell me you’re not going to mix all three together,” I say as we climb back into the car after we’ve paid.

“Of course I am.” He smiles at me as he shuts the door. “What other way is there to eat ice cream?”

“The normal way.” I buckle my seatbelt. “One flavor at a time.”

“This way gives it a kick.”

“Like a kick to the stomach, I bet.”

Biting back a grin, he glares at me. “Because of that little remark, I’m so going to make you try it.”

“No way.

“Want to bet?”

“I think the last time we bet, you lost.”

“Not this time,” he says. “Besides, the last time I let you win.”

I choke on a laugh. “That’s so not true and you know it.”

“No, I know I know that I’m right.”

“Huh?”

We exchange a confused, intoxicated look and then bust up laughing.

We continue to playfully argue during the drive home. The mood between us shifts, though, after we say goodbye to Jenna and Ari and start up the stairway toward my place.

“I bet it’s nice living here,” Seth remarks as he glances around the quiet apartment complex.

“It’s okay.” I shove the key in the lock. “I feel a little out of the loop, though.” After I unlock the door, I push it open and flip on the lights. “Like all the good stuff happens at the dorms and I only hear about it while I’m in class.”

“Trust me, the dorms are boring,” he says, entering my place. He looks around at the sofa, the flat screen television, and the pile of photos on the coffee table. “This photography thing isn’t just about the scholarship or school, is it? You like, really, really enjoy it.” He picks up a picture I took of a garden I passed during my walk to school.

“It’s kind of my version of writing tortured poetry.” I shut the door and slip off my jacket. “It helps me express myself when I can’t seem to verbalize how I feel.”

Seth sets down the photo and reaches into his pocket, retrieving the photo Jenna took of us. He briefly assesses it before placing it down on the table.

“Can I look at it now?” I ask, coming up beside him.

He shrugs, stepping back. “Be my guest.”

As I move forward to look at the picture, he walks around my small living room, checking out my collection of shot glasses, countless pictures, and DVDs. I lean down to look at the photo and smile. We look so into the kiss and all that tension Seth carries is gone. Tomorrow, I’ll make sure to tell Jenna how brilliant she is.

When I stand up straight, I notice Seth is staring at a framed picture of my parents and me near the beach. It was taken on a timer, but turned out to be a pretty amazing photo.

“This is your mom and dad?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah, that was taken on the beach not too far from where I grew up.”

“It’s pretty... And you all look so happy.” He steps back from the picture and faces me. “So, now what do we do?”

I shrug, pretending I have no idea, when really I do. I have tons and tons of f*cking ideas of what the two of us could do together. “We could watch a movie or something.”

Seth contemplates my offer. “I’m down for a movie just as long as it’s a comedy and,” a conniving grin spreads across his face, “You eat my ice cream concoction.”

I make a gag face. “I seriously don’t know if I can do it.”

He rolls his eyes at me. “Quit being a baby.” He swings around me, collects the bag of ice cream off the coffee table, then heads to the kitchen.

I follow after him and when I enter, he’s opening and shutting cupboards.

“Where the hell are your bowls?” he asks through a huff.

I open the dishwasher, grab a large red bowl and spoon, and set them down on the counter. Grinning, he opens the tubs of ice cream and scoops a spoonful of each flavor into the bowl. Once he’s finished, he stirs it around, mixing it all together, and then scoots the bowl toward me.

“Dig in.” He grins.

I frown at the bowl. “I find it kind of twisted that you’re enjoying this so much.”