If there’s one thing I know, it’s that my milkshake brings all the boys to the yard. It’s the dash of Kahlua that does it. Cold, refreshing, ice cream, and alcohol; what more can you want?
They’d been inside watching the game, don’t ask me which one, I really don’t care, but when the blender started I saw their heads turn.
“Hey Katie,” Shawn asked, “whatcha making?” His pale freckled face was burnt and peeling across his nose. It looked so cute.
“My fabulous milkshake, of course!” I responded, grinning. Shawn grinned back, and I felt my heart thump.
“You know,” Troy spoke up, turning toward Shawn, “they make awesome milkshakes down at Le Milk Shoppe. And they don’t just use Kahlua.”
And with that the conversation turned to the excellent nature of Le Milk Shoppe’s milkshakes. And they were saying, ’it’s better than yours’, but without the words.
The blender stopped, and I pulled the jug off. “Well fine, then,” I growled, “you go to Le Milk Shoppe. I’ll be in the backyard with my milkshake!”