“Don’t you remember in elementary school? We used to make those mini pizzas for lunch?”
“Oh God.” I laugh. “Those were actually terrible. I don’t know why anyone let us eat them.”
“We’re lucky we didn’t get food poisoning.”
I point at him with my rolling pin, bits of dough falling off. “Speak for yourself. I think I was off school for a week because I got so sick.”
Hunter quirks a brow at me. “Well, let’s hope that this pizza doesn’t make you sick. I’d be awfully sad if I didn’t get to spend time with you.”
My grin is so wide all my teeth show. “But then you could bring me soup to make me feel better and it’s like our dating story is real.”
A loud laugh escapes him. “I don’t know who brought the other soup at this point, Ol. We’re both taking care of each other.”
“Good. I’ll hold you to that if I need it.”
With my dough fully rolled out, I ladle sauce onto it and smooth it around, sneaking glances at Hunter. My eyes roam over his shirt. The way his muscles flex as he works.
I don’t know what I want to eat more tonight…Hunter or the pizza.
“How’s it going over here?” The woman from earlier pops up, startling me.
“Good,” Hunter answers.
“Need any more toppings, or are you okay?”
“I’m good,” I say, grabbing a handful of cheese to drop onto my pizza.
“Great. Can I get you anything to drink? Beers, wine? Soda? Water?”
“Two pale ales if you have them.”
She smiles. “Coming right up.”
“I don’t think you have enough cheese there, Ollie,” Hunter points out, sauce splattering on the butcher-block table in front of him.
“What?” I look down at my dough, completely hidden under mozzarella. “I like it.”
“As long as you left me some.”
I toss a piece onto his sauce. “There. I saved that just for you.”
He rolls his eyes. “Wow. What a good boyfriend.”
“The best.”
He reaches over and puts one pepperoni in the middle of mine along with a red pepper. “There. I saved some for you.”
He heaps the rest onto his.
“You know that’s going to be bad with no cheese on it, right?”
He grabs a handful and mixes it in with the rest of his toppings. “It’s going to be delicious.”
“Whatever you say.”
I take what’s left of the pepperoni, sausage, and peppers, placing them in neat circles on top of the cheese. Looking over at Hunter’s, his is a discombobulated mess.
It’s our friendship in a nutshell. I’m neat and tidy. Hunter is disorganized chaos.
