Page 81 of A Pizza My Heart

“Here.” Winston tosses a basket in front of us. “Extra breadsticks. Need anything else?”

“Worst server ever,” Wren mutters, grabbing a breadstick and shoving it in her mouth. She moans. “God, this is so good.”

“Can you not slobber on the phallic-shaped object with your brother present?”

“I’m not slobbering on it.” She swallows the bite of food in her mouth. “Why do you have to make everything weird, Winston?”

“Right. I’m the one making things weird when you’re the one making sex noises while eating a breadstick.”

“I was not making sex noises!”

I speak up. “Eh, you kind of were.”

She glares at me. “You want to lose more points?”

“Do I even have any more to lose?”

“No, so you might wanna rethink that answer.”

Winston grabs her purse off the bench, snapping it open and peering inside. Wren reaches for the bag, but he holds it just out of reach.

“What the hell are you doing?” she demands.

“Looking for Foster’s balls. Clearly you have them hidden in here somewhere.”

I snatch the purse from his hands. “Hardy fucking har, you dick.” I tuck the purse beside me. “Go work or something.”

“Uh-huh. You know I’m right though.” He walks away with a smug grin, muttering something to himself I can’t quite make out, but I know him well enough to know it’s sarcastic as shit.

“What areyoudoing with my purse?” Wren fires my way, arms crossed over her chest.

The movement causes her shirt to rise another two inches, and I can’t help but shift my attention to the skin now on display.

My dick stirs to life and I casually throw an arm across the back of the booth, shifting around to keep my growing erection from becoming obvious.

“Keeping it so I can get my balls back later.”

She huffs a laugh and takes another bite of her breadstick.

We sit like that for some time, quietly eating our appetizer, enjoying the silence and not feeling like we have to fill it with bullshit.

It was never like this with Layla. Every moment had to be filled with chatter, mostly coming from her. She’d gossip about all her friends and their lives and I’d pretend to listen. Sounds like a dick move, but you can only hear about how Janice’s new yoga instructor won’t do anal—her preferred way to get her rocks off to avoid an unwanted pregnancy that’ll “ruin her hot bod”—so many times before it becomes old news.

For Wren and me, it’s easy, and I miss easy.

“Foster?”

She’s leaned across the table, watching me.

I shift toward her. “Hm?”

“Your, uh, your story…”

“Yeah?”

“I—”

“Outta my way, you starry-eyed sons of bitches.”

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