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But Zachary Haven was dangerous.
“I don’t know if that’s such a good idea.”
“Hmm. What if it’s not a date? Not even me trying to turn it into a date. Just two friends hanging out.”
“Not a date?”
“It wouldn’t even resemble a date.”
“And you won’t try anything?”
“I told you, you can trust me.”
His voice was different—not even a trace of snark. He sounded honest.
“Okay. We can hang out. But just as friends. And you have to come here because I’m already comfortable.”
“Done. I’ll see you in a little bit.”
I ended the call and let out a long breath. Was I making a monumental mistake? I was about to find out.
It took a while for Zachary to arrive, but when he did, I understood why. I answered the door to find him dressed in a hoodie and joggers, holding a pizza box and a bag from the grocery store.
He grinned and the warmth that flooded my veins and the way my heart fluttered was impossible to ignore. But he’d always made me feel that way. I was probably just conditioned to get jumpy when he was around.
“I grabbed pizza in case you’re hungry.” He held up the bag. “And ice cream. Because ice cream.”
I laughed and stepped aside so he could come in. His joggers had a hole in the knee. Definitely not date attire.
That was good.
“Thanks.” I inhaled the scent of pizza. “I’m glad you did. I’m starving.”
“Same. Let’s eat.”
He brought the food to the kitchen and I put the ice cream in the freezer. It was mint chocolate chip—the kind without the green dye. My favorite. I took two plates out of the cupboard and set them on the counter.
“Pepperoni.” He opened the pizza box. “It seemed like fancy pizza would be too much like a date thing, so I kept it simple. Plus, you like pepperoni, so there you go.”
“How do you know I like pepperoni pizza?”
He met my eyes and grinned again. “We grew up together. Pepperoni, never sausage.”
That was true. I’d spent countless nights at the Havens’ for sleepovers with Annika, often with pizza. Still, it was touching that he’d remember, especially about the sausage. I’d eaten pizza with sausage at their house once and been sick that night.
“I still can’t eat sausage on pizza,” I said. “I must have been ten when that happened.”
“Sounds about right.”
“Do you actually remember that?”
“You puked all over Reese. How could I forget?”
I put a hand to my forehead. “I did throw up on him, didn’t I? Oh my gosh, that was horrible.”
“We were all kids. What are you gonna do.”
I grabbed napkins and we took our pizza to the couch.
