"This is why you can freeze ice cream by putting it into a mixture of ice and salt." He explained.
The bell rang, signaling the end of his last lecture in this college. Students started to pack up their notebooks and laptops, waving goodbye to this fun, young professor for the last time. Nancy sat still, however, waiting for the classroom to empty up. She stared into vacancy, examining the room in which she spent the best two years of her life.
The sun was bright and warm. He drew a big ice cream cone on the chalk board--what a child!
Kylie stayed to ask him a question. Nancy frowned. She never liked Kylie. Kylie always seemed like somebody flirting with the professor to get an A. Such a shame for both college and relationship.
Her mind lingered on the idea of ice cream. If she were to be interviewed by Oprah someday, she would certainly describe this relationship as ice cream. It's hard to produce; you kind of have to surround the soft, sweet mixture with cold, ugly rocks of salt and ice. But it always turned out so luscious and delightful.
Or maybe not always. The frown infringed her forehead again as she regurgitated the words in her head. Those evil, hurtful words that she had to say.
Kylie finally left. Now it's just two of them.
Nancy's smile vanished. She stood up, but fell back into the chair. A wave of grief and nausea overwhelmed her. She didn't know how to start talking.
Luckily she didn't have to. He walked up to her and kissed gently on her forehead, eyes sparkling with fund, "How did you like freezing points of solutions, demonstrated by Professor Ice Cream?"
She couldn't say anything, not that she had nothing to say. It felt like trying to empty a box of tic tacs through that ridiculously small hole, and they all just got stuck and nothing came out. The news, the plan, the despair and the inevitable departure... She had too much to say. But ice cream just wasn't the priority. So she silently let him keep meddling with her wavy brown hair. Please God, just... Just let them both enjoy the moment before one's heart broken, and the other one having to leave forever to the other side of Atlantic.
A serious expression unexpectedly replaced the funding smile on his face."I need to tell you something." He marched to the table, fetched in his piling mountain of stuff for a while, and returned with a lunchbox. He set it on the desk. "I made it for you, my sweetie." He opened it; the box was filled with something green, creamy-looking, and fragrant.
Nancy suddenly remembered she did tell him how much she loved Japan. Well, at least before her dad broke the news to her. Life is just so ironic: it all started with the matcha ice cream, and a Sakura bookmark, and a Ninja Halloween custome, and the next thing you know your dad already married you to a Japanese "business friend".
"Eat it."His voice broke her thought.
"No, Billy... I mean, Professor Erikson, I have something really important..."
"That can wait. You have to eat this. Now. I made this for you."the solemnity on his face scared her.
"Like... How..."
"Oh, you weren't paying attention to my class, were you? You see, when I put salt around the ice cream it lowers the freezing point..."
"No. How can you make me? You know... Maybe I don't want matcha ice cream now," she started to lose it, and she knew she started to lose it; her voice was on brink of cracking and her eyes hurt so badly from forcing back the tears,"Maybe I never liked matcha ice cream!"
She took a deep, deep breath, and forced last words out of her throat,"Maybe I never liked you."
She closed her eyes to avoid looking at his face. "Maybe we should take a break."
He sat down in front of her in silent. She kept staring at the floor. After the few seconds which felt like eternity, he finally spoke,"Eat it."
"Billy Erikson, what the..."
"Just eat it." He pushed the box a bit more toward her.
Nancy signed. Tears finally flooded out, while her last trace of strength diminishing. She never felt so exhausted, so infuriated, and so guilty at the same time. So she grabbed the spoon and started to shovel the ice cream in her mouth.
One spoonful, two spoonfuls... That bright afternoon when he blatantly asked her out for a date.
Five spoonfuls, six spoonfuls... The irate face of the principal when Billy quitted his teaching job for the prohibited relationship.
Eight spoonfuls, nine spoonfuls... He took her to movies, carnivals, dinners, and all the other places, never without a pint of ice cream. He knew she loved ice cream.
Eleven spoonfuls, twelve spoonfuls... He was her ice cream.

Suddenly something choked her, with the helplessness suffocating her. Before the blackout, everything she could remember was her mumbling coughs; his surprised, worried look; and the vivaciously green ice cream. When she opened her eyes again, it was an insipid, placid  white. She was lying in a ward, him sitting right besides her.
"Wow... Sorry I didn't think you were that hungry."
He took out an x ray image, with a circular shade in her stomach. She suddenly realized: her ice cream lover would always turn out so luscious and delightful. Always.
"Will you marry me?"