Who knew that this is where she was going? Make plans and make God laugh, right? She thought she was out to get ice cream and then she was here. This is where all the whys, the wheres and hows in her life had gotten her. All the best-laid plans had finally gotten her laid right. It sounded crass to her, but this is what happens when you follow the ice cream. She lets her finger trace his back as he sleeps. The skin is so soft and the slight dent of his spine leaves room for something so fragile and vulnerable that it makes her tear up. She hadn’t cried in months and now this boy was making her melt. Like ice cream. In this room, on this dusty street in Hollywood, on the hottest day of the year she found her deepest secrets and dirtiest thoughts buried in the skin of this boy she hardly knows. She whispers: “I will never pretend to know you.” But she knows, in this particular light of day, that she can’t keep her promise. She remembers her high school teacher saying something about skin being your largest organ and how all the boys had laughed. Her friend had said that it was the heart, but her friend is now the kind of girl who hears “hedge fund” and asks “how high?” Jenny looks at the ceiling. This large white surface now kept all her confidences. Sin is your largest organ. Jenny is not easy, but her body is. It responds like a good girl to bad things and all her correct answers become lost in that hot excavation between sugar and Brick. Her eyes lazily follow the soothing white walls down to the floor and she notice the ice cream has become creamy and soft, creating a puddle that looks like summer a cloud. Her clothes are scattered, forming a complicated geographical map in the white open bedroom. She takes a mental picture and let’s the map of her clothes tell the truth of how fucking turned on she is. She wakes him…