"Save the earth. It's the only planet with chocolate." – Unknown

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Fletcher's POV

"Well, Sushi, laws are made to be broken..." Fletcher murmured, seconds after Emily hung up the phone. A breeze picked up in his heart, sending his emotions into a tornado of confusion. Even though she wasn't meant to hear him, since he just wanted to say what'd been bubbling against his lips for weeks, he was disappointed that she hadn't heard his a romantic confession worthy of Romeo and Juliet.

Except for the dying part, of course. Not dying would be nice.

Even with this weight on his heart, Fletcher grinned at what he imagined Emily was doing once she ended the call. Pushing her phone to the side, the familiar rustle of her homework in the background. Fletcher chuckled to himself at the realization that even homework got more romantic action than he did.

He then realised he was gripping the phone so tightly that it threatened to break. Melanie had probably noticed his phone abuse with her spidey senses and was probably on her way to the back room to chew him out for damaging her precious ice cream shaped phone. With this in mind, he dropped the handset as though it had burned him, whistling as he grabbed a duster and brushed away cobwebs.

See? He had totally mastered the art of deception. He was more than worthy of possessing the title of a ninja waiter.

Fletcher flopped onto a cardboard box with a huff, brushing hair off his face as he stared at the phone. Naturally, his mind jumped from panic to Emily, who occupied most of his thoughts. If there was an award for being whipped, Fletcher would win the grand prize. Hopefully, the prize would be an ample supply of ice cream and Emily as a girlfriend.

However, there was a certain danger with the fact that he and Emily had never met. For all Fletcher knew, Emily could be a bald Asian monk who speaks into a voice changing device for fun. Maybe said monk enjoys bantering with Fletcher and learned the lingo of their modern generation for the sake of the façade. Maybe Emily was an alien or a supervillain who enjoyed toying with hearts. The possibilities were endless.

A smirk tugged at his lips as he wondered about how Emily would react if he compared her to a bald Asian monk. His grin grew with the thought, crinkling the corners of his eyes as a laugh burst out of his throat. Although the laughter drained away, a maniacal smile was plastered on his face as Alex walked into the room, who did a double take at the sight.

"Something wrong?" Fletcher asked innocently.

Alex cleared his throat. "Uh, what's up with your face?"

"Nothing, why do you ask?" Fletcher responded with a snicker, though any sign of lunacy had long since vanished.

"You look like you're drunk in love with a certain someone. I'd be stupid to assume that something isn't up," Alex said smoothly.

That was Alex, never missing a beat. He was also the only person in the world who could put up with the headstrong nature of Erin, which was why they were so perfect for each other. Speaking of Erin, she was seated behind the counter with an air of boredom, serving the customers with what Fletcher noticed was the enthusiasm of a brick, and that was him being generous. Bricks were way more interesting than Erin on a work day.

"Alex," Fletcher said with fake sympathy, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Alex fixed Fletcher with a glare and pushed his hand off. "Stop that."

Fletcher shrugged. "Look, I know we have a bromance going on, but I don't swing that way, you know? I'm just not romantically attracted to you."

"You've fractured my heart," Alex reponded emotionlessly.

"Good to know I mean something to you, " Fletcher joked, at which Alex tried and failed to conceal a grin. A beat of silence passed before Fletcher blurted out, "I know you've told me a billion times, but is your last name actually Hamilton?"

"Yep," Alex sighed, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "My parents saw the chance and they took it."

Fletcher bounced his eyebrows and began to snap his fingers rhythmically. "So does that make you a bastard, orphan, son of a whore, and a Scotsman, dropped–"

Alex jokingly shoved his shoulder as Erin poked her head in the room. "Your turn, Fletcher! Go serve the customers."

"Oh, come on, Erin. Let me opt out, just this once. Pretty please with a cherry on top?" Fletcher asked, plopping down on the couch.

"Hm, let me think," Erin placed her chin on her fist. "No. You get paid for doing this, so get off your lazy ass and get to work."

"But Erin–"

"But Fletcher," Erin mimicked with a voice which resembled Fletcher on helium. "If Emily were here, she would pull you up from that couch and drag you to the counter."

"She really would," Alex input.

Fletcher glared at him. "Thanks for your show of support."

Alex shrugged and folded his arms under his glower. "Fletcher, she has a point. Emily has a great work ethic, whereas you're–"

Fletcher raised an eyebrow at Alex. "You want to finish that sentence?"

"I will," Erin interrupted, counting adjectives on her fingers. "Loud, stupid, irksome, unable to take anything seriously, way too tall for your own good, loud, eccentric to the point that I want to stab you, loud, never offended even when I attack you with every insult I have, an egghead, and did I mention l-o-u-d?"

"Did I mention that you were a b-i-t-c-h?" Fletcher retorted, prompting Erin to shoot icy daggers at him. He would have been pierced a hundred times over if Alex hadn't wrapped an arm around Erin, leaning down to capture her lips in his own.

Erin shone radiantly up at him as they kissed. It was enough to make Fletcher shoot up from the couch, miming a retch. "Ugh! Stop with your ooey-gooeyness already."

"Kissing is what couples do, idiot," Erin scoffed, eyes fixed on Alex with a smile that no customer could hope to coax from her.

"Well, I'd rather work than see any more of it." Fletcher stalked out of the room, shouting over his shoulder. "Pay up when customers tip me for being too sexy!"

"Shouldn't Emily be the one paying you for that?" Alex called out while Erin roared with laughter. A final glimpse of the mushy couple saw them snuggling on the couch he was previously seated on.

Great, now he had to burn the couch. What a waste of a great couch.

However, a truth rang with Alex's words, as one always did, since he was wise and Fletcher was usually none the wiser. There was a certain appeal in imagining a scenario in which he and Emily met in person, though his mouth said otherwise as he greeted a customer. Fletcher also wondered whether Emily had the same feelings for him, even though she would never admit it. Bah, what's the use of emotions if we can't even confess our feelings without fear of rejection? Humans complicate everything.

Fletcher racked his brain for a reason why he hadn't made plans to meet Emily yet, but there was none. She was usually busy studying, so maybe she just didn't have enough time to meet a near-stranger she regularly talked to over the phone. But there was also no denying that every time Fletcher offered to deliver ice cream to her house, he himself chickened out. It was weird. The thought of seeing her caused sweat to bead along his hairline.

Instead, Fletcher wondered what Emily looked like, as neither Alex nor Erin would let slip any clues. Emily mentioned she was five foot eight, so the top of her head would be somewhere near his eyebrows. Then the eyes, the windows to her soul. Maybe they were cocoa, similar to his own, or the ocean blue of Alex. Wait, on second thought, Fletcher hoped her eyes weren't that color. He didn't want his Emily crush to turn into an Alex crush. Well, maybe her eyes were the signature hazel of Erin, or green, which Fletcher latched onto.

Fletcher loved the color green. It's a hopeful and creative hue, both of which harmonize with Fletcher's bright personality. Plus, it's one of the rarest eye colors too, so it's unique. Now, what about Emily's hair? A chestnut brown or dark as the night? Maybe a red velvet shade would be the one? Even with these endless options, Fletcher couldn't help but pair the green eyes with dark blonde waves, streaked with golden highlights.

To be realistic, she probably looked nothing like how he imagined, and he wouldn't care either way, but he let his imagination run wild nonetheless. Besides, it would train his mind to write some awesome fanfiction, so the benefits far outweighed the costs.

Fletcher raptly followed the actions of the imaginary Emily he conjured, watching her mouth open as she spoke in a gruff, manly voice. "What the hell are you doing?"

That snapped Fletcher back to reality, which consisted of nothing good, obviously. His eyes widened as he took in the scene, one which featured the furious expression of a customer who was now decorated with a scoop of ice cream on his shiny scalp. In fact, quite noticeably the same mint chocolate chip ice cream which had been dumped from the scoop in Fletcher's hand.

Fletcher shot him a sheepish smile. "Sorry?"

Perhaps Emily the sushi scholar was turning his world upside down and topsy turvy. But, the idea tickled his fancy, because he had come to realize that he enjoyed it that way.

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Emily's POV

"I have to go, see ya!" Emily exclaimed, slapping her phone down. She reached for her notebook and scribbled down the structural formulae of octane. "Alkenes can modify their carbon bonds and form polymers," she spoke as she wrote, her cursive handwriting inking the words she would review once her brain stopped jabbering about Fletcher.

To be fair, many teenagers would be spending their weekend taking rounds of shots at a club by means of a fake ID and partying through to dawn. Then their designated driver would drag their wasted body back home and dump them into bed, which would lead to a crazy hangover in the morning. Then, as much as they swear they'll never party again, they do the very next day. Rinse and repeat.

Emily never understood why they would spend their time and effort trying to sneak into a stupid nightclub. Now, Emily hated studying as much as the next person, since it ate up unnecessary time which could have been devoted to watching cat videos, and honestly, no one cares that the mitochondria are the powerhouse of the cell. Even so, she would hate for her grades to drop after doing so well all her life. Due to that pride, she devoted herself to achieving stellar grades.

For this reason, she didn't have time for social interaction until Fletcher came along and turned her life upside down. Emily liked to act on logic rather than instinct, so his spontaneity was freaky at times, but she wasn't going to back away from a challenge.

However, the challenge was doubly tough when her challenger was a man of mystery. Fletcher could only be described as indescribable. He was the human embodiment of quirkiness and as irritating as a loudspeaker blaring beside her ear, sure, but he was also intuitive, which no partner of hers had been before. The two boys whom Emily dated in the past both had the depth of a kiddy pool.

It would be a blatant lie to say Fletcher was like them. He was genuine as can be, with a strong emotional sensitivity which often lead to him picking up on her mood and adapting his words to suit what she felt. He was also confident, and his positivity able to comfort anyone in his presence. His words sent warmth through her body every time they spoke, as though she'd downed a hot cocoa. Most of all, he could convert her, the vaporous brainiac, into a real human girl, while showing her that the former was a valuable trait to possess. That, in itself, was insanely attractive.

The chime of her doorbell cut through the deafening silence. The rest of her family were out shopping while she stayed home, where she didn't need to talk to people. "Knock knock?" a muffled voice called, and Emily instantly recognized its sardonic tone.

She heaved a sigh and exited her room with an eerie resemblance to a zombie, since the studying she'd done throughout the morning had drained her. "Who's there?"

The doorbell rang twice more as the person shouted, "I'm not going to wait a decade for you to open the door!"

"Stay put, I'm coming!" Emily shouted back, fiddling with the lock. "Stop getting your panties in a twist."

The door opened to reveal Erin and Alex, the former shooting Emily a death glare, while the latter wore an apologetic expression. Though he couldn't risk speaking without the glare turning on him, he gestured that he'd tried to shush Erin before she began shouting. Emily arranged her facial features into what she hoped was a forgiving smile.

Erin placed her hands on her hips. "I'll get my panties in a twist however much I want."

"I'm sure you will," Emily replied. "Want to come in? We just bought the new chocolate that everyone's been raving about."

"It's fine, I don't like choco–" Erin started, but halted her stream of words when Alex shot her a scathing glare. Emily hid a smirk, knowing Alex was helping Erin, an infamous hater of sweet foods, learn how to develop a more diverse taste palette. She was notorious for refusing to change her ways, even though Emily had once caught her scoffing down five vanilla bean donuts in two minutes flat. Erin winced, before muttering, "Sure, why not? I'd love some chocolate. It's so sweet and delightfully delicious that–"

"Now you're milking it," Alex retorted.

"You just made a pun, did you know?"

"You're being rather stubborn, did you know?"

"You guys are being super annoying, did you know?" Emily interrupted their banter, though she was giggling under her breath. "Get in the house already!" She ushered them in and shut the door, following the couple into her lounge. Erin and Alex made themselves comfortable while Emily flopped onto an armchair, sinking into the velvet with a contented sigh. "So, what brings you guys here?"

"You ordered ice cream, didn't you?" Alex countered her question with a question.

She frowned, aware that she hadn't done anything of the sort. "No, I didn't."

"Yeah, we know," Erin and Alex said in unison, Cheshire Cat grins across both faces.

Emily's suspicious gaze switched between the two, trying to draw out the intentions of their visit. Neither said a word to alleviate her confusion, so she leaned back into her cushions with a nervous knot in her chest. A beat of silence was enough for Emily to raise another question."What are you two up to?"

"We wanted to talk to you about Fletcher," Alex clarified and sent a glance towards Erin, who nodded with an encouraging smile.

"Why would you want to talk to me about Fletcher?" Emily asked, dumbstruck. "We've never even met. We barely know each other. We're no more than acquaintances."

"That's not what he thinks."

"Oh really? So, what does he think? Does he not want anything to do with me anymore?"

"No, of course he wants to stay friends with you!" Erin burst out, while Alex widened his eyes in alarm. "It's just that–" she broke off, eyes downcast. "We don't think you see yourselves as friends anymore. Your relationship is less platonic and more–"

"What? Just spit it out!" Emily spoke with a bite of impatience.

"Do you have a crush on him?" Alex blurted out, cheeks flaring tomato red as soon as the words left his mouth. Erin leaned back and whispered a curse under her breath. Alex shrugged apologetically in response.

Once Emily registered what he said, oxygen ceased to exist. A strange flutter beat against the walls of her chest. The words chimed like a grandfather clock at the strike of each hour, reducing her muscles to a gelatinous state. This wasn't the first time she'd heard this question, since it was one she often asked herself, but she didn't have an answer yet. After all, love is an emotion, and emotions are all over the place. Emotions are a tangle of vines which snake into a labyrinth of crazy. As a logical person, that was a problem for Emily.

Was Fletcher trying to hint at romance? With his nicknames and teasing? The time which he'd sincerely complimented her? Did he reciprocate the feelings which clawed at her heart, those feelings of romantic attraction, and if she dared to mention it, love?

Emily waved away these thoughts once she came to her senses. There was no way she could love someone who she'd never even met. There was no way she could've fallen head over heels for a voice. It just didn't make sense. Besides, Fletcher was joking with his banter and occasional flirting. He couldn't be in love with Emily. He just couldn't.

Even so, her conscience whined at the back of her mind, suggesting that maybe, just maybe, Fletcher actually returned her feelings. Maybe he was attracted to her, and maybe he thought that she didn't return that love, even though that was totally false. Maybe Alex and Erin asked him the same question a few hours ago, to which he must have replied with an answer. If only she knew what that answer was.

"Emily?" Alex broke her train of thought, but he was no longer Alex in her eyes.

A strange mirage shimmered before Emily, a figment of her imagination, and Alex suddenly morphed into Fletcher, or someone whom she pictured as Fletcher. The doppelgänger greeted her dumbfounded expression with a wink, a cheeky grin softening his eyes. She couldn't explain how she could picture him so vividly without meeting him beforehand, but his mischievous chocolate irises twinkled at her with the same humor that was infused in his voice. Emily loved brown eyes. They radiated confidence and kindness, both of which were trademark Fletcher characteristics.

Emily could have given pseudo-Fletcher fiery red hair or golden locks, but her mind instead drifted to the deep brown of fallen leaves, with a sheen which played with the light streaming in nearby. His tousled bed head invited Emily to ruffle it. She wanted to call the owner of that hair hers. Dream Fletcher seated himself on the couch with an easy grace, and Emily drank in as much of him as she could.

The vision melted. Dream Fletcher morphed back into the worried expression of Alex, who asked, "Emily, are you okay?"

Meanwhile, Erin began to pester Emily with questions. "So, do you have an answer? Do you have a crush on Fletcher?"

Emily wanted nothing more than to say she didn't, since the absence of romance was better than dealing with potential heartbreak, but lying wasn't her natural instinct. Instead, she tried to shake any thoughts of a relationship with Fletcher. No way could she have become enamored with a stranger. Even so, her conscience kept whining against this protest. The idea of romance had drifted among other mindless matters for months, but flared up at the mention of Erin's question. Was she a lovesick victim of Fletcher's charm?

Emily gnawed the inside of her cheek in despair. "I– I don't know."

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Okie, so this chapter has finally been revamped from the hodgepodge that it used to be. I must say I'm much happier with this writing style. What do you think of Erin and Alex so far? I adore them so much. Also, the number of comments which assumed that Erin and Emily were the same person was huge, but alas, they are separate people. Erin is reserved for Alex, while Emily has her own special someone to exchange phone calls with ;)

Anyhow, this chapter was a gift from me to you, because we have reached the halfway mark of Waffle Cones! I apologize if it was difficult to force yourself through a 4000 word chapter, as I'm aware that you're here for the dialogue, but the prose chapters are the backbone of the story. Without them, the dialogue crumbles.

Let me know what you thought of this chapter by voting and commenting! I'd appreciate it so much. Sayonara, my sushis <3