As the game reaches its climax, so do the players. With a final, triumphant cry, one leans back, their popsicle now a dripping, sticky mess in their hand. The other, defeated but not discouraged, leans in, their tongue flicking out to lick the melting ice from the winner's fingers. The room echoes with their laughter, the game paused as they indulge in a different kind of showdown, their bodies pressed close, the popsicles forgotten, their desire ignited.