Page 86 of Signed, I'm Yours!
“Exactly. A dinner date. Are you okay? Did you hit your head on something?” I brush his hair away, looking for the fictional bump, and he slaps my hands.
“Stop it!” He pouts.
“I didn’t do anything.” I put my hands up in surrender.
“I believe you were about to buy me pizza.”
I smile and bring my hands down around Seojun’s waist, holding him close to me.
“With pleasure,” I tell him and kiss his nose, which seems to turn it and his cheeks red.
I step back, take his hand, and march into Betsy’s Pizza Place, where the aforementioned Betsy is behind the counter.
She greets us both and does a double take when she looks at me but doesn’t say anything other than, “What will it be, folks?”
“I’ll have a pepperoni,” I say.
“And I’ll have a Hawaiian. And the key to the back, please,” Seojun adds.
I freeze and ogle at him. He wastes no time, does he?
“The back?” Betsy grimaces. “This isn’t an Airbnb, my boy. But if you want to tidy up my stockroom, be my guest.”
Seojun smirks, digs into the pockets of his satin jacket, and retrieves a pen.
“I’m a SPAM agent and need to gain access to April’s office right away. Her safety is at stake.” As he talks, he signs the top menu on a pile between him and Betsy. Then he proceeds to hand it to her.
“Oh,” Betsy replies. “I’m so sorry, agents. I didn’t realize. Here you go.”
She types on the old-style register and presses enter. To our right, a door that readsPRIVATEslides open.
“Thank you,” Seojun replies and starts to walk toward it but stops and turns as if his pants are on fire. “What about those pizzas?”
“Right!” Betsy blinks, gets to work putting two slices on paper plates for us, and gives us an abundance of napkins.
With the food in hand, I follow Seojun into the next room, a janitorial box that serves as an elevator.
The door shuts behind us, and the room rumbles as the elevator mechanism lifts us.
“What? Don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘pineapple on pizza is not pizza’ weirdos? Because I am not marrying a weirdo.”
I narrow my eyes and cock my head. Had I been staring? And did he just talk about marriage?
“Did you just?—”
“Erm…I mean…I’m not dating. Dating. Yeah. I don’t know why I said marrying. I think it’s because we lied about being fiancés, and what?” He chuckles with a beet-red face.
“Did you just say Hawaiin-pizza-loving people are weirdos? Because I’d say that’s grounds for divorce?”
“Huh?” He blinks several times, and his utter confusion warms my heart.
He’s the funniest, silliest, cutest, bravest creature I’ve ever met. I don’t think he knows that.
Note to self: tell Seojun he’s funny, silly, cute, and brave.
“I said, I can’t believe I ordered pepperoni because I’m so jealous now.” I stare at his pizza slice to emphasize my point, but that doesn’t mean I miss how his expression relaxes and his smile returns to its rightful place.
“Well, it’s mine. Deal with it, Happy.” He lifts the plate to his mouth and bites off the top.
