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He tilted his head to the side. “You’re gonna eat the pizza?”
“It smells good.” I bit the side of my bottom lip and dragged it through my teeth. “It’s not like I made grilled cheese that can’t be reheated.”
“Or we could have cold pizza for breakfast.”
“We could. What do you want to do?”
“I don’t know. You decide.”
“If I could, I’d have told you already.”
“Why don’t we have both?”
“What?”
His eyes sparkled with laughter. “A fajita and pizza. That way, both our olive branches are extended, and we both win.”
It was the weirdest icebreaker I’d ever heard in my life.
That was probably why it was going to work.
“All right then.” I nodded and reached for the tortillas. “Give me 2 minutes.”
“I need to change anyway.” He pushed off from the island. “This shirt is Noah’s, and I need to wash it.”
“I have a load I need to do. You can put it with mine.”
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it. Also, your cheek has oil on it.” I cradled the lettuce close to me and tapped my finger against my right cheek. “Just there.”
He rubbed his cheek and checked his fingers. “Shit. No wonder they looked at me weird in the pizza place.”
I bit back a laugh as he disappeared.
Okay. This wasn’t as awkward as it could have been. We were clearly both trying to make amends and make this as normal as it possibly could be.
Whether we’d succeed was another matter. It was a good start, though.
I diced the lettuce and grabbed the shredded cheese from the fridge. I made two fajitas and set them on different plates, and by the time I put both plates down on the coffee table next to the pizza, Ethan came back through.
“Thanks for feeding Mr. Prickles.” He sat down. “You didn’t have to.”
“Don’t worry about it. There was no need to take him to your mom’s.”
He paused. “I actually stayed at Noah’s last night. Apparently, your best friends have big mouths, so he offered me his spare room when I said I wasn’t staying here.”
I met his eyes and froze. “Wasn’t Leo there last night?”
“He doesn’t know,” Ethan said quickly, and I sagged in relief. “We talked when he was on the phone outside.”
“Thank God.”
“Yeah.”
An awkward silence filled the apartment. We’d gone into uncharted territory with that direction in conversation, and now that I knew he’d spoken to Noah and Preston about the kiss, I was dying to know what he’d said.
Sucked to be me.
I grabbed a napkin from the stack on top of the pizza box and dabbed at my mouth. I didn’t know what to say next.
Was I an idiot to think our relationship could go back to before we kissed?
Ethan reached for the pizza box at the exact same time I did. Our fingers touched, and a shiver darted up my arm in response.
“Sorry,” we both said at the same time.
“Here.” He pushed the box toward me. “You go.”
“Um. Thanks.” I opened the box, revealing the cheesy goodness of a pepperoni pizza. I peered over at Ethan. “You hate pepperoni.”
He leaned forward, pulling a slice out, and picked off all the bits of pepperoni. “Problem solved,” he said with a small smile.
I glanced down at the pizza and back at him. “Did you buy this because it’s my favorite? You know they’ll do half-and-half there, right?”
“I know.” He was looking at the slice he’d just put on his plate. “By the time I remembered, it was too late.”
“But why didn’t you get a pizza you like?”
“Because I didn’t buy it for me, you donut. I bought it to, I don’t know, say sorry. I knew I could just pick the pepperoni off. It’s just a pizza, Ava. It’s not the end of the world to pick off a topping I don’t like if it means we can go back to pissing each other off like normal.”
Oh, my God.
And therein lay the problem.
This was the kind of guy you married, ladies. The guy who brought your favorite, even if he hated it, just to make your day a little better.
I pulled a slice away. “I don’t know what to say.”
“You don’t have to say anything. Just eat it.” He smirked. “Evidently, talking isn’t our forte today.”
“Or any day,” I added. “But I do have good news.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. I think me and Mr. Prickles might be friends.”
“Fuck off,” he replied. “You’re friends with him now? You’ve hated him ever since I brought him in.”
“Yes,” I said slowly. “But I had to feed him today, and since he didn’t bite me, we’re on good terms.”
Ethan laughed, wiping his fingers on a napkin. “Interjection: I’m getting a beer. You want one?”
“No. I’ll take some wine, though.”
“Do you have any plastic cups? I don’t want you cutting the entire finger off this time.”
I pursed my lips.
Laughing again, he quickly made his way to the kitchen. “Is that all it takes? A promise not to bite you and you’re friends?”
