“Yeah. Next time we’ll get it delivered.” He takes a sip of beer.
I look up at him. “Does that mean we’re going to be eating pizza this entire time?”
“Well, unless you cook, yes,” he says.
“What about you? Do you cook?”
He avoids my eyes. “Nah.”
He’s lying.
“Bullshit. You totally do.” I point an accusing finger at him.
He throws his head back with a sigh. “Fine, I might know how.”
“No way! Haze Adams cooks. You have got to show me.”
“How do you do that?” he groans and slumps farther into the couch before I can ask him any more questions about his past as a chef.
“Do what?”
“See so clearly through my game.”
“What can I say? I know your lying ass pretty well by now.” I push my hair over my shoulder jokingly.
He scoffs, impersonating me and pretending to push his nonexistent long hair to the back in a ten-times-more-ridiculous manner. I chuckle and throw a pillow at him.
“There’s a nice restaurant downtown. We could go grab a bite there tomorrow morning if you’re not feeling pizza for breakfast.”
“Sure. I’d love that.” I can’t help but wonder if this is his way of asking me out.
“Hey, can I ask you a question?” A seriousness covers his features out of the blue.
I nod. “Ask away.”
“Are you a virgin?”
I smile, remembering how he tried to get the info out of me via text many times in the past. I never answered.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” I tease.
“Oh, come on.” He puts his hands up.
“What do you think?” I challenge him.
“I don’t know. That’s why I’m asking. I can’t read you.” He squints his eyes like it will help him uncover my secrets. “On one hand, you totally give me innocent girl in bed vibes, but on the other…” He smirks, giving my imagination a million chances to finish his sentence.
“On the other what?”
I’m not sure I want to hear the rest. He lets my thoughts run unnecessary miles before speaking again.
“You also look like you could blow a guy’s mind if you wanted to.”
I ignore the suggestion dripping from his voice, biting on the inside of my cheek. Why am I all of a sudden even more drawn to him? It’s like I’m battling this urge to pull him closer and say “let’s find out.” So much for being friends, huh?
He speaks again. “So, are you?”
“What?”