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Robin stares out over the parlor of Scoops Ahoy, napkin sketch half-abandoned. It's stuffed with families, packs of wild children, and the occasional loner.
Harrington's in the back on break. It's weird to work with “The Hair” —and what a dippy nickname that is— but it's even weirder that he's not the most annoying co-worker. Sure he had no idea who she was when she met him at their first shift, but he actually does his job.
The irritating bell over the shop door chimes. Robin stands upright. A trio of girls —siblings, by the looks of it— hold a bevy of shopping bags in their hands. Robin’s eye catches the oldest. Her hair is a waterfall of dark curls, her eyes tiny night skies, her smile one thousand watts. It’s terrible poetry, but the little romantic in her heart thump-thump thump-thumps and she squashes it down.
They stand back, not quite up against the counter, in a way Robin wants to interact with them. But — “Ahoy, would you like to set sail on this ocean of flavor? I’m Robin, how can I help you?”
The youngest pulls her braids over her face and giggles. The teen rolls her eyes —and honestly Robin can’t blame her, it is cheesy. The oldest squints, then blinks.
“Robin Buckley?” She strides to the counter. “Trumpet, right?”
Oh God, Robin knows her? She wracks her brain in the hopes of coming up with a name. She’s always been terrible —made a fool of herself more times than she can count—but this is the first time she’s ever been disappointed to forget. “Yes?”
She points to herself. “Melissa, bass clarinet. We moved after my sophomore year.”
Oh no, Melissa. Melissa who sat in front of the trumpets with the rest of the clarinets. Melissa who had the cutest smile full of braces. Melissa who she crashed into during marching band practice .
“Missy,” the youngest pulls on Melissa’s arm, “I want a sundae.”
Melissa pulls her wallet from her purse and thumbs through her cash. “One dip, not a double.” She shakes her head with a smile. “Siblings, you know?”
“I’m an only child.” Why did she even say that?
Melissa opens her mouth, but her little sister pokes the glass. “May I have a hot fudge sundae on mint chip, please?”
And listen, Robin isn't a huge fan of small children —they make her anxious— but she's not immune to puppy dog eyes. The “Sure!” slips out before her brain can send out the words —“We only use vanilla, sorry!”. She pulls her scoop from the water bin and leans over the freezer. Mint chip isn't the worst to scoop, but she hates if any is left on the scooper. It makes everything it touches taste minty. She packs the scoop past regulation, more like a scoop and a half, and adds two cherries. Melissa's little sister grins when Robin hands her treat over.
Harrington strides through the double doors, banana peel in hand. “Oh hey, Melissa.”
Melissa makes a face Robin can't figure out. She's not mad and it's not the pity smirk Robin's seen on all the girls Harrington's flirted with this summer. “Steve, didn’t expect to see you here.”
Harrington shrugs, like a “What can you do?” Again, weird. “Bucks got you all set?”
Robin hates the nickname, but she doesn’t want to waste energy telling him to stop. Not when she can retaliate. “I’ve got Melissa if you want to help her sister, Hare.”
Harrington lifts an eyebrow, but doesn’t say anything as he approaches Melissa’s prickly, teen sister. Robin doesn’t know if he can hear the difference in her tone between “hair” and “hare,” but even she knows it’s a weak rebuttal. She just hasn’t found the right word yet.
She shifts her attention back to Melissa. “What can I get you?”
”Double scoop strawberry in a waffle cone.” Melissa smiles and tiny fireworks shoot off in Robin’s heart.
She changes scoops and packs the ice cream like she did for her little sister. It’s as close to openly flirting as Robin will ever get. She’ll just continue to embarrass herself if she talks. It’s already embarrassing enough in her Scoops Ahoy uniform —and oh my god she forgot about the uniform. She shifts to the register and hands Melissa’s cone over. Down the line, Harrington makes a milkshake. The machine is a pain in the ass, and he’s likely to get ice cream splashback.
She rings up Melissa's order and takes her money, the coins still warm from her touch. “What are you doing back in Hawkins?” What kind of question is that, Buckley?
Melissa licks a run away drip of ice cream. “My grandma still lives here. My dad is trying to convince her to move in with us, but,” she sighs, “they're both so stubborn. It's easier to keep these rugrats out of the way then get in the middle of it.” She jerks her head over her shoulder at her sisters.
“I always wanted a sibling,” says Robin. And why?
Melissa shakes her head and smiles. “Yeah, they're not too bad.”
“Can we go now?” asks Melissa's sister. She slurps her milkshake.
Melissa gives Robin one last glance. “It was good to see you again, Robin.”
“You too,” says Robin, a bit too loudly. Really more like a shout if she was honest. She watches Melissa and her sisters leave Scoops until they're engulfed in the mall rush. She blinks and leans back against the counter. Harrington stares at her. “What?”
“Nothing.” He holsters his scoop. “Will you rat on me if I eat more cherries to see if I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue?”
Robin waves her hand. “Go nuts.” She pulls her napkin sketch out and starts a new drawing: a kind smile, soft cheeks, and eyes that stare back at her