On a sweltering day in July, she wanted a slurpee. I wanted gelato. We parted ways with a promise to meet post-purchase.

Perspiration froze in my cleavage when the door swung shut. Mirrors lined the walls but I focused on the freezers to avoid my red face and tangled, damp hair. I chose my usual flavours and stepped up to the cash register, purse in one hand, bills for the clerk in the other.

I glanced at my hair, just to check how bad it really was. Shuddered. But then, in reflection behind me – a familiar face. Oh. My. God! It was him! How was it possible for a human to look better in person than on screen? I drank in his perfection. Eyes of shamrock. Tanned face set off by his alabaster shirt. My fingers twitched with the desire to plunge deep into his shaggy black hair. Oh god, I’m staring. I can’t stop. That one perfect dimple is … and those biceps… Noticing my adoring gaze, he smiled. My heart throbbed and my lips parted -

The clerk cleared his throat. I wrenched my gaze away; the transaction was finished. I dashed to my friend, waiting outside.

“You’ll never guess who I saw,” I raved, pulling her arm. “He’s still in there, come and look.” My friend stopped.

“Where’s your gelato?” she asked.

Oh yeah, I had bought a gelato.

“On the counter. Whatever! Come on!” Back inside, I tilted my head in his direction, then left my friend gaping at him as I walked up to the counter. He was watching me in the mirror! Stay calm! I glanced at the empty cone holder. Where was my gelato?

He turned and gazed into my eyes. The young god was smiling at me! He spoke.

“It’s in your purse.”