Somehow, I didn’t even think about him having a backup of our time together.
Something to think about.
Later.
When I’m not groggy, medicated, and hungry.
“Thank you,” I whisper, meaning it. I can’t even tell them how much this means to me.
Probably better this way.
“All right, let’s eat. I’m starving,” Misha commands, and Grey hands out the pizzas and sets some water bottles on the coffee table.
“Do we need anything from the kitchen?” I ask, readying to stand, but Grey pushes my pizza box at me.
“Nope, we’ll eat with our hands, like it’s supposed to be.”
Huh, I’m more stuck up than he is for once.
Oliver grimaces.
Something else we have in common.
I set down my box and head to the kitchen to grab some forks and knives for him and myself, as well as some napkins for everyone. Smiling gratefully, Oliver takes the cutlery from my hand before I sit back next to him.
“Wow, she already pegged him right after just a day of knowing each other,” Misha tells Grey, who huffs a laugh.
“Not true. He and I have a long coffee break history,” I mutter while slicing my first bite of pizza. I marvel at the gooey yolk that oozes over the crisp crust and groan a little as I put it in my mouth.
The richness of the fried egg blends perfectly with the tangy tomato sauce.
I feel Oliver’s gaze on me, so I turn to look at him, and he stares so openly my stomach sinks.
Did I say something stupid?
Damn, I’m not used to having casual conversations.
I don’t know where all my introversion has gone over the past few hours, but this, this feels so effortless—at least when I’m not fucking up.
Misha takes a bite of his salami pizza, and I glance at Oliver’s, which seems to be a Margherita, while Grey’s is topped with parmesan and eggplant.
Grey grabs the remote and asks, “Should we start from the beginning? Or do you know that one, Amelia?”
I look up at the television, only now noticing the grainy, vintage still of the movie paused on screen. A group of figures in ragged, primitive costumes huddles around a large, tattered flag planted firmly in the sand. The film’s iconic imagery suddenly clicks—those distinctive costumes, the desolate landscape…
Planet of the Apes?
“Well, I knowofit, never watched it, if it is the one I think it is.”
He shakes his head, huffing out a breath as if it’s audacious not to know that film.
Yeah, sure, I’m the audacious one.
“All right, we’ll watch from the beginning, but just so you know, your TV is shit, so next time we’ll do this at our place.”
Next time?
“Why is my TV shit?” I ask instead.
