Alda and I spent the remainder of that morning on our laptops reporting on the titration we'd completed the day before, and contrast to our usual cold silences, it felt almost as if a wave of warmth lingered over us as we worked.

'Um, Al, do you need help with the titration curve?' I spoke up amidst our silent typing session. I sat on the sofa, while Alda remained seated at the kitchen counter.

'Bam! Eat it, bitch!' Alda exclaimed, spinning her laptop around to face me. I promptly got up from the sofa and leaned in to observe. There it was, a fully articulated and charted titration curve, complete with subtitles, a figure, and even an equation in correct form.

'Wow, flashing me with an exquisite titration curve just like you flashed me with your breasts... and I've got to say, I'm somehow almost as impressed,' I smirked as I theatrically bit my lip, glancing up to her from the screen.

'Ahhh- I just wanted to show you up, not actually get you to "eat it"-' Alda shrieked, squirming in her seat as she covered her face with her hands. Looks like she really couldn't handle her own medicine. Typical.

'Al, you're such a tease,' I jested, crossing my arms and shaking my head at her in mock-disappointment.

'Fuck off, I'm just inexperienced- I've probably got like naturally amazing tongue game, or something,' Alda glowered, resting her chin on her keyboard as she averted eye contact.

'Well, I guess we'll never know,' I shrugged, quoting Kanye of all people in the most Alda-esc jab I could muster. I felt dirty.

I was being a little shit, yet something told me Alda was actually into it? It was my Dr. Pepper head-crush all over again, and for some reason, it felt like something was buzzing through my torso. Like a surge of electricity, growing more concentrated with each comment.

'Ugh, is this what you feel every time you mess with me? This is exhausting,' I admitted as I slumped onto the stool besides her. She turned to me with an eyebrow raise, probably wondering what the hell I was talking about.

'Feel what?' she questioned, her expression genuinely quizzical. Damn it, here we go again. I wear my heart on my sleeve and this little goblin is the only one who can read its carvings; including me, the author.

'I don't want to describe it- you'll just laugh-' I protested with a grumble. Was it that deep down I knew what it was, and that I knew Alda would know too?

'Well, yeah. You describe basic human emotions in such interesting ways, I just- uh-' her voice trailed off. 'It's kinda cute,' she admitted through pursed lips, looking down, which immediately caused that electricity in my chest to light up my entire face like a red neon sign that read "ARE YOU TRYING TO KILL ME?"

'It's not "cute," it's frustrating. All I want to do is describe these stupid feelings verbally, like you do,' I sighed, resting my own chin on the kitchen counter as my gaze shifted up to Alda.

She looked so focused, so sure of herself, so confident in her feelings. My complete antithesis.

'Like, why can't I just say "I like watching you squirm," or something,' I whined, staring at Alda in confusion as her eyes widened and her face reflected my own flush like a chameleon. What? What did I say?

'Um- uhhh- my face is hot- let's get ice cream!' Alda suddenly blurted, completely throwing me off-guard. That was sudden, but I wasn't opposed to getting ice cream. Wait, did this count as her asking me out? Like, technically? Again? What's next, "it's bright outside let's go watch a movie," or something?

'In that dress?' I asked without an ounce of sarcasm.

'What's wrong with this dress?!' she piped up, looking offended as she straightened up and clenched her fists. She reminded me of a seagull screeching for fries. 'You look like you just dug yourself out of the mass grave of grunge singers from Seattle!' Alda commented, and I couldn't help but simper.

'One: I really don't want you to get ice cream on that dress,' I stated, sticking an index finger up and allowing another dexter to join it as I moved on to my next point. 'Two: you didn't change last night, and I want to see what you've actually acquired since our seven year separation,' I finished with a matter-of-fact tone in attempt to alleviate any misunderstandings.

'Oh- oh- so you just- want to see if I can look prettier?' she whispered, tapping her fingers together, as if trying to tease me but being too genuinely shook to go through with it. She quickly sprinted to her room and slammed the door shut behind her.

'I'll be fifteen minutes!' her voice permeated through the door, and I could tell she was lying.

● ● ●

When Alda decided to show herself again, the sun's arc had peaked at midday.

'I'm ready, Tal~ Hope I wasn't too long~' she chirruped as she stepped into the common room, bathing in the afternoon light as her new outfit was swept into my vision. I was stunned, and I don't think I could conjure up a word until prompted or even assaulted.

She looked so shy, yet cheerful? She was wearing a dark leather corset that perfectly outlined her figure, covered in intricate floral embroidery. And her sheer, frilly skirt hugged her waist so snuggly you'd think it was tailored for her, and it was decorated with a whole color wheel of three-dimensional fabric roses I'm sure would have looked like dancing blossoms were they to catch wind.

'Sorry if it's too boring for you, I really just can't stay away from flowers...' she apologized meekly, and I couldn't help but smile at her unexpected humility. Boring... boring? When was Alda ever boring?

'Al, if there's one thing you've never, ever been, it's boring. If anything, you're-' I preached to her, trying to find a word to perfectly capture how I felt. Antonyms for boring... antonyms for boring...

'You're captivating,' I settled on, and I felt my eyes light up as I gazed into Alda's, her own glimmering as the word passed through my lips.

Those dark, soulful eyes I'd once seen only as vampiric orbs of dark matter, now I only saw obsidian patches of blackness against a night sky; that space between the stars that even astronomers couldn't fathom what lie beyond.

I wanted to explore it, and I didn't care if the curiosity killed me.

'You're... captivated by me?' Alda stammered, seemingly awestruck by my admission. Ugh. Why was she suddenly so adorable?

'Well, if the audience fits the stalls,' I replied sheepishly, absentmindedly rubbing my arm.

'Well, if you're down for an encore, then...' Alda replied in kind, curling a strand of her long, black hair around her finger.

'Then...?' I asked, wondering exactly where she was going with this.

'Do you wanna go get ice cream, and stuff?' she continued, winding her hair around her whole forearm in a timid daze.

I nodded vigorously, enthused as ever, before I made my way over to our dormitory door and pushed it open for Alda, holding it open as I always did.

'Oh, gracias, mi corazón,' she warbled as she twirled out the door. I didn't need to understand Spanish to know that was some term of endearment, and it made my skin crawl with a buzzing heat that should have terrified me... but I didn't need to understand that right now, either.

● ● ●

'So, what's the scoop?' a gravelly male whisper called down to me as I approached the counter at Baskin-Robbins, surveying the available flavors. 

Oh, no. What was he doing here?

I craned my neck up to pull the wiry, disheveled professor into my sights. He wasn't wearing an ill-fitting suit this time, but he still didn't look any better in a pink shirt and blue apron. It still looked wrong. I swear this man only looked at home in his own scalded skin in a lab coat, and the thought was even more unsettling.

I returned his query with a slow, disappointed blink.

'Don't look so chilled, whatever your name is,' he continued with the bad ice cream puns, stretching his hand before him to check his nails before he glanced back at me. 

'The on-site outlets aren't just for you students- have you seen our salaries? It's absolutely cream-inal,' he explained, and I was now certain it wasn't employee policy to include a pun in every sentence. But he did, and it was annoying. 

'The scoop is: I'm just here to order ice cream,' I replied bluntly. 

'Don't be like that~ it's been a day and you're already going out for ice cream with that mastermind- you can't tell me you haven't been experimenting~' he boomed, his lips suddenly pursing as he must have realized how that sounded. 'Not like that,' he clarified. 

'That type of experimentation is only the concern of my cone college days,' he chuckled nervously. I don't think I needed to know that. 'So- tell me~ what horrors did she put you through?' Professor Lenford enthused, his wrinkles forming an impish smile.

'Um... so, I guess I'll tell you for the credit,' I started, trying to phrase my next anecdotes in the most vaguely scientific way possible. 

'Subject has willingly exhibited levels of interpersonal vulnerability and even physical displays in indirect modes of communication, yet when directly prompted or observed is unable to engage in reciprocal acts of communicative exposure,' I summarized, my gaze passing over each ice cream flavor as I explained the situation. 

'So, you're waffling on, instead of striking the iron while it's hot? Favorite flavors?' Lerry sighed, lifting a single waffle cone above the display case, and grasping a metal scoop with his other hand.

'Rocky road for Alda. Double. Mint chocolate chip for me. Single,' I instructed the old man. He was probably right, but how would I initiate such proximity or act of shared vulnerability? On purpose? 

It was then that the professor handed me a single ice cream cone, three scoops tall. A ball of mint chocolate sandwiched between two rocky roads. 

No... he did not. Wait- of course he did.

'Please, please, save the cone-pliments, I'm no geni-ice- it's just mint to be- and you've got a rocky road ahead of you, so-' the old man gushed, hands clasped by his cheek in mock-swooning. Ok, ok, I get it, I'm leaving! 

I swiftly paid and sped back over to Alda, silently vowing never to set foot in this parlor again.