Page 72 of Revelry
Gah, see? Sex ruins everything.
“Who’s driving?” he asked as I locked up.
“Both of us,” I turned, giving him a big grin.
He scrubbed a hand over his stubbled jaw, sighing loudly. “Why do I feel like there’s abutcoming?”
“Because it’s me so there’s always a but,” I joked and hurried around the side of the house and came back with two bikes.
“We’re biking?” He looked to the stars. “Lord, give me strength.”
“Oh, come on, you big fuddy duddy. Just hop on and ride it!”
He screwed up his face. “Did you just call me a fuddy duddy?”
“Get on the bike, Tate.” My tone was firm and left no room for argument. After some grumbling, he swung his leg over and looked ridiculous on the tiny bike. I smothered a laugh behind my hand when he dinged the bell then groaned.
“Race you to Tony’s!” I shouted, pushing off and pedaling as hard as I could. The cool breeze rushed through my hair and I knew it was going to be a wild tangle by the time we got to the pizzeria.
I glanced over my shoulder and saw him gaining on me, his face twisted in competitive concentration. I giggled as he sailed past, his legs lifted from the pedals, showing off. He wobbled dramatically and I guffawed as he struggled to get control of the handlebars.
We raced all the way to Tony’s, arriving out of breath and arguing over who cheated.
“You tried to steer me into that giant puddle!” he accused.
“You’re such a baby, it was a tiny bit of water.”
“It was a lake!” he insisted as we pushed open the door to Tony’s. The scent of dough, tomato sauce and burned cheese hit me. I was immediately propelled back to high school, sitting in a booth with my lame boyfriend, gawping at Tate while he served us and refused to meet my stare.
God, I’d wanted him to notice me so bad back then.
I dragged him by the hand to a booth and he sat opposite me, dusting off the remaining crumbs before rearranging the tray of sauces and pulling out a menu. He pretended to study it but I knew him better.
“You’re gonna pretend to read it and act like you don’t order the exact same thing every time?”
His cheeks flushed and he ducked his head. I flinched, I hadn’t meant to make him feel bad. “No, it’s a good thing!” I rushed to reassure him. “When me and Gary used to go out for dinner, I’d always want to order the same thing but he hated it and always made me order something new. Like, I’ve come here because there’s something specific I want, why would I order something else and be disappointed that I can’t have the thing I wanted, you know?” I ranted.
His eyes narrowed, assessing me and he took my menu away, putting it on the table in front of me and covering it. “So what are you having?”
“Classic cheese,” I replied.
“And? Crust? Sauce? Side? Drink?” He counted them off on his fingertips.
“Thin crust, BBQ sauce. Don’t hate on me!” I insisted when his expression blanched, and he stuck a tongue out. “Side of garlic dippers, cheesy bites and a root beer float.”
“BBQ sauce with a plain cheese pizza? Girl, you’re weird.”
I laughed. “I am not! Fine Pizza King, what’s your order?”
“Pepperoni, stuffed crust, sweet tomato sauce and chicken wings.” He shot me a triumphant smile that I felt all the way to the tips of my toes.
“Pepperoni, interesting.”
He shrugged, picking at a crack in the vinyl booth. “I like the circles. My OCD likes the circular meat on a circular base.”
“Lord in Heaven above!” Tony exclaimed, appearing at the end of our booth, a hand to his chest as he looked between me and Tate. “He’s brought a girl here!”
“Hey Tony,” I laughed, reaching up to give him a hug.
