guess—laziness and the invention of ramen.”
“I seriously doubt that—at least, the laziness part. No, there must be some other reason,” I said, ripping open the bag of shredded mozzarella.
I dipped my hand into the cold bag and started sprinkling the cheese on the pizza. It looked like large pieces of snow falling—or at least, I thought it did, but I wasn’t sure since I’d never seen snow.
“Well, I can tell you, I’m in good company. I can guarantee you that most men in their twenties who aren’t married or involved usually live off of take-out menus and anything that can be made in the microwave.”
The only thing I heard in that entire explanation was the fact that he was single. What I should have focused on was the fact that he was dodging any sort of real answer, but the female side of me—the one that never had a chance to crush on a boy in homeroom or dance with a boyfriend at the homecoming dance—didn’t notice any of that.
It shouldn’t matter that he was single. I should have ignored it, but my stomach did a flip-flop the instant the words left his mouth.
Jude was single, and he was here— with me .
No, it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t change anything. Of course, it couldn’t.
Denial was something I always excelled in.
After the pizza was properly covered in a good coating of cheese, we moved on to toppings.
“So, what do you like on your pizza?” He grabbed the bags and began pulling out more toppings than one pizza could possibly hold. There were mushrooms, artichoke hearts, olives, pepperoni, ham, green peppers, onions, and about a dozen other things.
“Um…whatever you like is fine,” I answered, glancing around at everything.
His eyebrows went up in amusement. “Lailah, I might not know you very well yet, but I can tell when you’re lying. You’re not very good at it. Right now, you’re looking at half of these things like they’re going to jump up and attack you. Just tell me what you don’t like, and I won’t add it.”
“Okay, but don’t laugh.”
He schooled his face, trying to keep the grin that was threatening to take over his face. “No promises.”
“I hate mushrooms,” I started, looking down at the counter rather than up at him. “They’re weird-looking. And bell peppers taste funny. They’re never quite cooked but not quite raw either. Like, why is that? Also, you’re so sweet, but half of these things I can’t have because they’re too high in salt, and I’m on a low-salt diet because of my heart. Do you hate me yet?”
I risked a glance up and found him smiling a lopsided warm smile that stole my breath.
“How about cheese?” he asked.
“Love it.”
“Good. We’ll have plain cheese then.” He scooped the pizza up, balancing it with one hand on the pizza tray we’d found on one of our many search-and-rescue missions around the kitchen, and he paused in front of me. Grabbing my chin, he looked at me with those celadon green eyes. “And no, I definitely don’t hate you.”
OUR FIRST ATTEMPT at making a pizza actually turned out quite well despite several false starts and roadblocks. As I pulled the pizza out of the oven, noticing the perfectly baked crust and the browned cheese, I realized something startling. Lailah and I made a great team.
I’d never expected that from this little adventure. I’d planned this afternoon as a way of payment. I owed the woman standing in front of me a debt. She might not understand or realize that, but I did, and I was going to do everything in my power to make sure that her life was better from now on.
What I hadn’t planned on was enjoying the time I spent with her so much. Ever since I’d spied her licking chocolate off her fingers, laughing like no one was watching her, I’d been intrigued by this girl with pale blue eyes and hair the color of wheat. The more time I spent with her, the more my fascination turned into something genuine.
She wasn’t just a debt or an
“I seriously doubt that—at least, the laziness part. No, there must be some other reason,” I said, ripping open the bag of shredded mozzarella.
I dipped my hand into the cold bag and started sprinkling the cheese on the pizza. It looked like large pieces of snow falling—or at least, I thought it did, but I wasn’t sure since I’d never seen snow.
“Well, I can tell you, I’m in good company. I can guarantee you that most men in their twenties who aren’t married or involved usually live off of take-out menus and anything that can be made in the microwave.”
The only thing I heard in that entire explanation was the fact that he was single. What I should have focused on was the fact that he was dodging any sort of real answer, but the female side of me—the one that never had a chance to crush on a boy in homeroom or dance with a boyfriend at the homecoming dance—didn’t notice any of that.
It shouldn’t matter that he was single. I should have ignored it, but my stomach did a flip-flop the instant the words left his mouth.
Jude was single, and he was here— with me .
No, it doesn’t matter.
It doesn’t change anything. Of course, it couldn’t.
Denial was something I always excelled in.
After the pizza was properly covered in a good coating of cheese, we moved on to toppings.
“So, what do you like on your pizza?” He grabbed the bags and began pulling out more toppings than one pizza could possibly hold. There were mushrooms, artichoke hearts, olives, pepperoni, ham, green peppers, onions, and about a dozen other things.
“Um…whatever you like is fine,” I answered, glancing around at everything.
His eyebrows went up in amusement. “Lailah, I might not know you very well yet, but I can tell when you’re lying. You’re not very good at it. Right now, you’re looking at half of these things like they’re going to jump up and attack you. Just tell me what you don’t like, and I won’t add it.”
“Okay, but don’t laugh.”
He schooled his face, trying to keep the grin that was threatening to take over his face. “No promises.”
“I hate mushrooms,” I started, looking down at the counter rather than up at him. “They’re weird-looking. And bell peppers taste funny. They’re never quite cooked but not quite raw either. Like, why is that? Also, you’re so sweet, but half of these things I can’t have because they’re too high in salt, and I’m on a low-salt diet because of my heart. Do you hate me yet?”
I risked a glance up and found him smiling a lopsided warm smile that stole my breath.
“How about cheese?” he asked.
“Love it.”
“Good. We’ll have plain cheese then.” He scooped the pizza up, balancing it with one hand on the pizza tray we’d found on one of our many search-and-rescue missions around the kitchen, and he paused in front of me. Grabbing my chin, he looked at me with those celadon green eyes. “And no, I definitely don’t hate you.”
OUR FIRST ATTEMPT at making a pizza actually turned out quite well despite several false starts and roadblocks. As I pulled the pizza out of the oven, noticing the perfectly baked crust and the browned cheese, I realized something startling. Lailah and I made a great team.
I’d never expected that from this little adventure. I’d planned this afternoon as a way of payment. I owed the woman standing in front of me a debt. She might not understand or realize that, but I did, and I was going to do everything in my power to make sure that her life was better from now on.
What I hadn’t planned on was enjoying the time I spent with her so much. Ever since I’d spied her licking chocolate off her fingers, laughing like no one was watching her, I’d been intrigued by this girl with pale blue eyes and hair the color of wheat. The more time I spent with her, the more my fascination turned into something genuine.
She wasn’t just a debt or an
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