“But?”
“But that’s why you’re so great forCrush or Cupid.”
“Do go on.” It’s better to let her sing my praises first because the list of things that I love about Pippa would keep us here all night and I imagine the waitstaff have places to be.
“I hate to admit it, but those things are all true. You know I can’t lie.”
“But you have been. To yourself. To me.”
“Chase, you know we can’t.”
“Our parents seem to disagree.”
“Your dad does, that’s for sure.”
“Chase.” She gazes at her hands. “You can’t keep chasing me.”
“Then stop running.”
Our gazes lock. Hold. The chemistry between us lights a spark, igniting a light to illuminate the truth. There is nothing that can keep us apart. Not rules or tables or the past.
“Come here,” I say.
She looks around. As if realizing nothing is going to stop this lion, or our destiny, a cute little smile picks up her lips. “Come get me.”
Mine quirk.
Her eyes dance with desire.
I push out my chair, preparing to get up and bring her over here if I have to—the busboy still hasn’t cleared the glasses from the previous guests. “I made my own arrangements for tonight when I decided that I’m done playing games, well, off the football field.
Pippa blinks a few times as though slowly understanding what I said. Her lips ripple and the corners of her eyes crinkle. Laughter comes in fits and starts, but it’s contagious because a chuckle rolls through me and soon, we’re both practically doubled over.
Seeing the relief on Pippa’s face and the freedom there fills me with something rare. Something I want to snatch out of the air and hold close, keep safe.
“This isn’t the high school dining hall. We’re sitting together. I’ve gone along with this nonsense, as endearing as it is, long enough.” I roll my shoulders, crack my knuckles, and then get to my feet. While Pippa watches my every move, I set aside the second chair from my table. Marching over to her table, I pick her up, chair and all, and then set her down back at my table.
Everyone else is staring, too.
“Now, can we try to be adults and not irrational teenagers and enjoy a meal at my favorite restaurant?”
“Fine,” she says, returning to her deep menu study.
“The flatbread pizza appetizer sounds good,” I say.
“It’s always you and the pizza,” she says.
I close Pippa’s menu and set my gaze on her. “I love pizza. For breakfast, lunch, and dinner. In between. When I see pizza, I get excited. I have to have it. I cannot get enough pizza.”
She gives me a long look as though wondering if I’m talking about pizza at all.
The server appears, at last ready to take our order. To make up for being rude patrons and hogging two tables, I place a sizable order and plan to leave a generous tip.
“You were saying about pizza?” Pippa asks.
“For years now, I’ve been searching for the best one.”
“Then what? What will happen when you find it?”
