The Right Moves - The Game Book 3 by Emma Hart

understand it. You just have to do it. Ice cream tastes best at this time of night.”
    “Okay. I’ll take your word for it.” I look at all the names on the boards hanging behind the counter, then at the freezers in front of me. And drop my jaw. I’ve never seen so many types of bloody ice cream in my life, and I have no idea what any of the dishes on the board are called.
    “You’ve n ever been to an ice cream shop before, have you?” Abbi asks me in a voice that says she thinks I’m completely hopeless.
    Honestly, I’m a little inclined to believe her on the hopeless thing. London has been holding out on me, clearly.
    “Never in my life.”
    “I thought I heard your voice.” A young woman, no older than thirty, comes bustling out from behind a beaded curtain, and beams at Abbi. An apron is tied around her waist, and she wipes her hands on it, her brown eyes flitting between the two of us. “Oh dear,” she mutters, her eyes settling on Abbi. “He’s a newbie, isn’t he?”
    Abbi nods. “Yep.”
    “I thought so. He looks as lost as a penguin in the desert, that one. What shall we give him, Abbi?”
    “I was thinking the chocolate sundae. The double one. With extra brownies.” She pauses, then nods. “Yep. That one.”
    The woman – who I’m guessing is Holly – grins. “I agree. It’s always a good startin’ place. And you’ll have the Rainbow Splash?”
    “You bet.” Abbi turns to me, smiling.
    “I’d love the chocolate sundae, thanks.” I try for annoyed, but completely fail.
    “See? I knew you would.” She dances across the parlor and sits on one of the high stools at a small round table, spinning to face me. “Everyone loves chocolate sundaes.”
    I follow her over and sit opposite her. “So why didn’t you get the chocolate one?”
    Holly sets two glasses full of ice cream in front of us. One is layered with vanilla and chocolate ice cream, chocolate brownies, chocolate sauce and topped with a bit of cream and colorful sprinkles. The other is a mix of what looks like every color ice cream Holly has in the freezers, layered with strawberry and toffee sauce and topped with biscuit pieces, chocolate chips, and a whole pot of sprinkles.
    “That was quick,” I say.
    “I’ve been doing this since I was fifteen,” Holly replies. “No one in this city can whip up an ice cream faster than I can.”
    “Or better,” Abbi interjects, licking her spoon.
    Holly winks. “Enjoy.” She turns and strolls to the back of the shop.
    “And to answer your question …” Abbi’s feet kick mine under the table. “If I ordered the chocolate sundae, I wouldn’t get to do this.”
    She leans forward and sticks her spoon in my dish, taking a mound of ice cream and brownie. She closes her mouth around my ice cream before I can say anything, crinkles forming around her eyes.
    “Just as well you didn’t, then,” I reply, twirling my spoon between my fingers. “Because that’s a great idea.” I dip my spoon into her ice cream but come away with a pile of sprinkles and barely a slither of ice cream.
    Abbi laughs loudly, clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle it. I run my tongue across my teeth, staring hopelessly at my spoon, and try not to smile at the sound of her laughter. For all the sadness she has locked away in her body, she has the lightest, happiest laugh I’ve ever heard, and it’s almost impossible to not want to laugh along with her.
    I look at her, and her eyes are closed as her giggles peter out. She opens her eyes, showing me their brilliantly blue hue. I stab my spoon childishly into my ice cream, take a big scoop, and shove it into my mouth.
    And I completely and utterly underestimated how fucking cold this ice cream is.
    My eyes widen as I swallow the lump of frozen cream. Abbi purses her lips and her shoulders shake yet again with laughter.
    “You seem to have a habit of making a bit of a twat of yourself,” she observes.
    I wipe some cream from the corner of my mouth.