≈ chilled creamery. with @dylxwestwick
Nothing cured heartbreak quite like ice cream. At least, that’s what the rom-coms always advertised. Phoebe had sent a picture of her tub to Damian, because whilst it wasn’t anything nutritional, it was still food. She was off her couch, and she was with Dylan, grateful that her friend made time for her despite how busy her life was. Funny, not too long ago they had been sharing stories about stupid boy stuff Theo and Foster did. And now the thought of the chef, or Dylan’s seemingly-perfect relationship with Nilay’s brother, made her entire chest ache. But she pushed that thought aside, because wallowing was the opposite of her trip to the ice cream shop intended to be.
“Thanks for coming with me. I know it’s silly, but I think if I spend any more time alone I might scream.” She managed to make it sound like a joke, but it really wasn’t. After Damian finally went home the other night, the silence had been suffocating. She had ended up going for a walk, and when she woke up the next morning, just felt like she could function just a little bit more.
She stabbed into her cookie dough, busying herself with making a dent in the scoop, turning back to Dylan. “How’s work? How are the babies? How’s Theo? How’s just…everything?”















