Vanilla

Leo liked ice cream. In the summer, when it was too hot to stand it, he ate ice cream. He liked that it cooled him off.

There was one other thing that could cool him off: Nico di Angelo, the Ghost king himself.

But he could never tell anyone that.

Leo wondered across the deck of the Argo II with a big ice cream cone. The sun was beating overhead.

“Isn’t it a little hot for your jacket?”

He looked at the boy sitting with his back against the mast. The boy wasn’t moving; Leo thought he might be in some kind of heat coma.

“Hey! Earth to Nico!”

Leo tapped his ice cream to the end of the boy’s nose, and his eyes opened with a start.

“Gods! Leo, what was that for?” He touched the end of his nose. “Is this ice cream?”

“Yep.” Leo licked the bit from the boy’s nose. “I like vanilla.”