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"You're getting it everywhere," Junhui says, laughing.
If it wasn't for the popsicle in his hand, he'd be rolling on the ground, and while you normally love his over-reactions, you're not in the mood right now. You frown and swipe the back of your hand across your mouth. It comes back sticky, covered in vanilla and the stale sprinkles you tried to pick off.
"Missed a spot." Still smiling, he thumbs at your cheek and licks the ice cream off his finger.
"Just get a waffle cone, baby; it'll be fine," you say, mimicking the timbre of his voice. "But Jun, I can't eat cold things fast enough! It'll just melt. No, trust me, it's not that hot. Your ice cream will be fine."
With a glare, you take the offered napkins and dab at your face, but his happiness is, as always, annoyingly infectious. It only takes two more of his stifled giggles to make your facade break, and then you're pressing your sweaty forehead against his shoulder to hide your grin. You take a deep breath and lean back against the boardwalk's wooden railing, craning your neck to find the ice cream store's red and white awning. It's almost invisible between the flashing lights of nearby game stands.
"We're not too far," you murmur, licking absently at the running edges. "I could go back and ask for a cup. They won't charge for that, right?"
Junhui shrugs, already half-done his popsicle. "Or you could stop thinking so hard and just bite it." He quirks an eyebrow. To prove his point, he crunches down on his orange-flavored treat, and you can't hold back the reflexive flinch.
"How do you do that?" You pause. "Actually, never mind. You're the one who can eat lemons in twenty seconds. We're clearly built different, so..." You swing the beach tote off your shoulder and into his hand. "Hold this while I run over there?"
"No need," he says, holding up the bag you thought only held napkins. "I thought ahead."
You snort. "For once."
"Keep that attitude up, and you'll have to watch your money sink into the ground."
Somehow, in the middle of this short exchange, he managed to finish the rest of his popsicle and keeps the wooden stick inside of his cheek as he digs through his things.
"Ta-da!" He brandishes the bowl with a flourish. With pink flowers that wrap around the rim, it'd be a normal rice bowl if you didn't recognize the chipped edge.
"Isn't this from my mom's house?"
"Yeah, from the last time she packed me food. I brought it along to return to her, but since you need it now..." He trails off with another shrug.
"So this was a coincidence, not you thinking ahead."
He doesn't argue back — just holds the bowl as you upturn your waffle cone, and when you take it from his hands, he whips out a metal soup spoon. To other passersby, you probably look absurd, but what is summer if not the chance to visit the beach and fool around with your boyfriend, snickering into each other's ears and ignoring the salt-water breeze in your hair? Sand sticks to the back of your knees as you continue walking down the boardwalk, tasting vanilla on your tongue, feeling the love in your heart.
You inhale deeply. "You were right about one thing, at least. I really needed this break."