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I’ve been busy!
But I’ve also enjoyed what little company I’ve experienced with Justin.
Two parcels from home arrived the other day and I have yet to unpack them. I’m nearly positive Justin is going to ask to help me move out this weekend.
It makes sense, after all.
We’re both at the apartment. Neither of us is being pulled away for some coaching responsibility of another.
He can help me move what little I have…
“What do you want on your pizza?” Justin asks, leaning into the bedroom I’ve been occupying.
I look up from my laptop screen, where I’ve been staring but not seeing while lost in my thoughts.
“Pardon?”
“I was going to order pizza for dinner tonight. What toppings do you like?”
“Oh. Um… Whatever.” I shake my head. “I’m not picky.”
“Peppers, onion…?”
“That’s fine.”
“Mushrooms?”
My lips and nose scrunch before I can stop the action, and Justin laughs.
“Negative to the mushrooms. Got it. You like meat? Pepperoni? Sausage?”
My mind goes straight to the gutter as I think about a sausage I wouldn’t mind try?—
Jesus, Lennox Marie.
“Just not fish,” I manage to say. “Please.”
If the man is willing to put mushrooms on a pizza, I wouldn’t put it past him to add sardines or something else equally gross. Shudder.
He nods, tapping the wall with the flat of his hand, before stepping backward into the hall. Then, apparently thinking better of it, steps right back into my room.
“Movie or television?”
“For…?”
“Tonight.”
“Why, Justin,” I try leaning into the laid back, easy flirting that’s not-quite-flirting thing we’ve skirted around the last few weeks. “Do you want to spend time with me tonight?”
I’m expecting an equally quick barb but he surprises me when he winks and once again, retreats into the hall. “I do. Pizza should be here within an hour. Think about what you want to watch.”
* * *
Instead of a show, we end up playing two truths and a lie over dinner.
“I perfected shooting as a lefty in high school, I broke my ankle when I was six, and I was not thrilled to be a big brother when Liv was born. I liked my only child status.”
I push my plate away and lean into the table. “Hmm…” I think about Justin’s items, and compare them to the ones from earlier rounds. “You’re right-handed and play hockey as a righty, so maybe that… But I think maybe I’ve watched a clip from your college career, and I almost feel like I recall someone saying you were a two-way player. Then again, I don’t think that has to do with shooting but how you play and cover the areas or whatever they’re called. And your mom has told stories about you becoming a big brother, so I know that one’s absolutely true. Did you break your ankle…” I watch his face, trying to stare deep into those light green eyes of his to see if he’ll give any clues.
