When Worlds Collide

first kiss

"Okay, can we go?" he asked, and I nodded as I stepped out the door. We walked to his car, and he opened the door for me, which made me smile slightly. We got in, and he started driving.

"I'm curious to see where you live," I said after about 10 minutes of driving.

"It's just a small house, nothing nearly as big as where you live."

I glanced over at him, placing my hand on his shoulder. "Travis, that doesn't bother me. You should know that."

He smiled understandingly, and I let my hand fall back into my lap. Eventually, we arrived, and we both got out. I stood in front of a charming little house whose elegant appearance immediately caught my attention.

The building stood tall with its three stories, looking majestic. The soft, muted gray tones of the exterior walls blended perfectly with the cream-colored accents, giving the house a refined and classy look. Large, black-framed windows peered out from the facade, their dark, reflective surfaces hiding the secrets inside. The many glass panes caught the light of the late afternoon sun, casting soft shadows on the smooth, cream-colored wooden panels beneath.

"I love it," I said to Travis, who instantly grinned.

"Come on, let's go inside," he said.

The path leading to the house was simple but inviting, paved with gray stones and bordered by a low red brick edge. Small bushes and freshly planted flowers added a touch of life to the garden.

I stepped through the door of Travis' house and was immediately enveloped by a cozy atmosphere. Everything fit together perfectly, and it was just beautiful in here.

"Come on, let's go to the kitchen," he said to me. I nodded and followed him.

"Are you hungry yet?"

I nodded. "Yeah, I think so. What should we cook?"

"That's entirely up to you."

I started to smile. "Okay, well, if that's the case, how about we make pizza?"

"Yeah, we can do that. Find a recipe and tell me what we need. I'll get everything since I know you have no idea where anything is."

That's exactly what we did, and after Travis had placed all the ingredients on the kitchen island, we started making the dough.

The kitchen smells of fresh flour and olive oil as I pour the warm water into a bowl. Travis adds a teaspoon of sugar, stirs gently and finally sprinkles in the dry yeast.

I pause for a moment, watching as the yeast dissolves in the water and slowly begins to foam, a sign that it is alive and ready to do its bit.The flour is already on the work surface. I make a small hollow in the middle, as I have often done before. I pour the yeast and water mixture into this hollow, along with a few drops of olive oil, golden and fragrant. I start to mix the ingredients by hand, slowly at first, then more vigorously.

The dough feels softer and softer under my fingers until it finally turns elastic and supple in my hand. I lose myself in the steady movement of kneading while the dough yields and forms under my pressure.After ten minutes, the dough is smooth, as it should be. i shape it into a ball, travis places it in a lightly oiled bowl and covers it with a damp cloth.

Now the waiting begins. the moment when the dough begins to grow in the warm silence of the kitchen, expanding, slowly, almost imperceptibly, but surely.An hour passes, maybe even two. When I finally pull back the cloth, I see how the dough has doubled in size, soft and airy. I lightly run my finger through it, feel the elasticity and know that it is now time to roll it out.On the lightly floured work surface, Travis rolls out the dough into thin, round shapes, each portion as delicate as the next.

I felt a finger on the tip of my nose, turned my head, and looked directly into Travis' eyes. He stood next to me with a huge grin.

"Heyy," I said and lightly slapped him after he smeared flour on my nose.

"You'll see," I said. "You'll get that back."

I reached behind me, dipped my hand into the flour, and pressed it onto Travis' face, smearing the flour all over him. He just looked at me, annoyed.

"Tay, why do you always have to overdo it?"

"You started it."

"Yeah, but I didn't go overboard right away. You know I like you."

"Yeah, and yet you still haven't kissed me." I didn't know where the courage to say that in this moment came from, especially since he now looked like a snowman. actually kind of cute. We looked deeply into each other's eyes. Travis, with a rough, attractive voice, said, "We can change that quickly."

My heart raced as he moved closer. Every breath felt heavier, as if the air around us had suddenly thickened. His hand gently brushed my cheek, a soft touch that sent an electric spark through my body. I felt a tingling where his fingers touched my skin. My breath caught as his face came closer to mine, every second stretching out like slow motion. His warm breath grazed my lips, and in that tiny, unbearably slow moment, the world seemed to stand still.

Travis' lips touched mine, hesitantly at first. My eyes closed almost automatically as I focused on the moment, on the sensation, as if everything inside me was melting together. It was intense, full of desire and passion. Travis' lips pressed firmly against mine, demanding but not too rough. My hands slid instinctively over his shoulders, pulling myself closer to him, as if through the kiss I could be even closer, diving deeper into what we shared.

Travis' hands wandered to my back, pulling me even closer, and the intensity of the moment made me forget everything around us. My lips parted, and I tasted him. His tongue grazed mine, demanding, deep. My fingernails dug lightly into his shoulders. At some point, I pushed him away and said, "Travis... our pizza."

"Are you serious, Tay?" Travis asked, clearly annoyed that I had interrupted the kiss.

I turned back towards the kitchen island and already had the jar of tomato sauce in my hand. Suddenly, two hands were on my hips. Travis leaned over my shoulder and whispered in my ear, "Let me handle this, princess." Then he gently moved me aside and took the jar from my hand.

he spreads tomato sauce, fresh basil leaves and cheese on top, perhaps a few slices of spicy salami or colorful peppers.

The oven is hot, almost glowing, as he places the finished pizza in it. In a few minutes, the kitchen is filled with the aroma of freshly baked pizza and we can hardly wait to taste the golden-brown result, crispy yet soft, just as it should be.