“Can we eat?” Will’s voice carries through with so much hope, I laugh.
“Yes, we can eat.”
He’s up and in the kitchen faster than anyone. Shaking my head, I give him a paper plate. Jenny dared anyone to use actual plates we’d end up having to clean.
“Nope, Daisy and Jenny gets first dibs. They did all this.”
“I just ordered pizza. Daisy cooked.”
“Still,” Dylan says and hands her a plate. “You did more than the rest of us.”
“Are you going to go hide out in your room now?”
“I planned on it.”
“Want company?”
If I say no, I’ll have to see that stupid look of disappointment he’s sure to wear and oddly, I don’t want to be the reason for it. “If it means getting you out of my hair faster, then sure.”
He grins like he just found a hundred dollar bill but doesn’t do much else aside from loading up his plate with food. I tell everyone they’re on cleanup duty and go upstairs, very aware Hutch is right behind me. I do leave the door open, however. I usually shut it when I know a party is going to be starting, but I want that buffer of an open door.
“So, how does it taste?” I ask as I get a bottle of water out of the mini fridge for Hutch and a can of cherry Dr. Pepper for me.
He picks up one of the slices and takes a huge bite. A low moan rips out of him and he closes his eyes. “Oh my God, this is so good!”
Laughing, I sit down on the bed. “Try just the crust and let me know what you think. I tinkered with the recipe I found.”
Wiping his mouth with a paper towel, he sits at the bottom of the bed. “Is there any recipe you don’t tinker with?”
“My grandmother’s recipes. You don’t mess with perfection.”
He tears off a piece of the crust and pops it into his mouth. He chews and I can tell he’s trying to identify what he’s tasting. I know it’s a little odd, but I think it’s pretty good.
“What’s it made from?”
“Do you like it?”
“Yeah. It’s good, better than good really. You can’t even taste a difference when you’re eating the whole thing.”
“Its base is low fat cottage cheese.”
“Say what?”
“Cottage cheese. It’s a rip off of a Keto recipe. I just added some spices and coated it with garlic infused oil.”
“Cottage cheese? That stuff is foul.”
I giggle, surprised I’m still capable of the sound. “Then why are you stuffing your face?”
He hangs his head. “Damn. I’m going to have to eat cottage cheese and say it’s good.”
My own pizza is cold, but you know what? Pizza is good hot or cold. Doesn’t matter. I’ll eat it. I’ve even been known to eat day old pizza left out of the fridge. Judge me all you want. It’s still good.
We’re quiet while we eat, but he’s looking around my room, taking in everything from the photos of my family to the overflowing clothes basket. Am I embarrassed I haven’t washed clothes and you can see a bra hanging down out of the basket? Nope. I work and I go to school. I haven’t had time to wash clothes yet. And let’s be real. If this boy hasn’t seen a bra before, then I’m Mother Teresa.
“Room looks good. I didn’t really pay attention last time I was here.”
“It’s a room.”
