My body bounces from Zay slumping down on the couch. He groans as he drops his head to rest against the couch in his lounge clothes.
I look up from my phone. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Long day.”
My phone dings.
Rya: So…
He tilts his head up and stares down at my phone. “Who’s that?”
“Rya. She wants to go clubbing this weekend.”
Violet: wincing face emoji
“I’m down,” he says and lays his head back.
“What?” My eyes raise up, taken aback. “You want to go?”
He shifts a little, locking his eyes with mine. “Yeah. Why not?”
I sit silently, my eyes fixated on him with an empty stare. We partied a lot in our early twenties and slowed it down a lot when we hit our late twenties. I thought he didn’t like it any more than I did.
“You don’t want to?” he asks.
I shake my head. “I’m kind of sick of it.”
His brows furrow. “How?”
I kick my legs up underneath me and shift my body toward him. “We used to party so much. I’m just tired of it. It doesn’t sound fun anymore.”
He leans back onto the couch and runs his fingers down my thighs. “You had fun in Vegas,” he says, repeatedly raising his eyebrows.
A small smirk forms on my face, knowing what he’s talking about. The night he snuck me off into the club and had his way with me. “That was the liquor.” I giggle.
He raises his brows; his eyes turn dark with desire. “Well, then we’ll get more liquor into you.” He runs his hands up higher and then stops right at my center.
“Zay,” I mumble. “I doubt we could get away with that shit here.”
He shrugs his shoulders. “There’s always a first for everything.”
The doorbell rings. Zay looks toward the door, then to me as I get off the couch. “I ordered us a pizza.”
He leans up from the couch, his eyes wide. “Finally, no healthy food.”
I glare at him over my shoulder. Most of the dinners I cook are healthy. Zayn used to put up a fight when I would make him eat his vegetables like a little kid. Over time, he’s gotten used to them. I’m not always healthy. At times, I crave a heavier meal,like tonight. I can’t be that big of a stickler on my health or else I know I’ll give up entirely. Plus, my cooking makes up for it, and at least I don’t add extra nonsense to what I cook.
I walk back over to the kitchen with the pizza in hand and find Zay already at the table, waiting to eat. He licks his lips like a kid at a candy store. I shake my head as I set the pizza down.
“What?” he asks, glaring at me.
“Nothing.” I chuckle and head over to grab paper plates, ranch, and parmesan cheese. He’s already taking a huge bite of pizza as I set them on the table. “Did you not eat lunch?”
He chews his pizza, shaking his head.
I take a seat next to him and place a slice on my plate and pour ranch next to it. “Do you want parmesan?” I ask while sprinkling some on my pizza.
He grabs it out of my hand when I’m done and sprinkles his slice, which is almost halfway gone now.
