Scomiche - Secret Diary of a Fangirl

14. Surprise

"Are you sure this is a good idea?"   I look up at him then back to the ingredients in front of me.  

His laugh is adorable and the way his eyes narrow, lines creasing the corners, makes me all fuzzy inside.

"C'mon, Mitchy. Have a little faith in me."

His words remind me of Ava and our talk and I can feel the rock sitting in my stomach again. I force it away for now. I know I'll have to deal with it later in the night, I've resolved to tell him the truth. I can't bring myself to leave him voluntarily so I'll just have to tell him and let him send me away. I don't know why I think that will be less painful, but my brain isn't exactly performing at its best lately.

Still, one look at his smiling face and I'm back to the warm fuzzies. I sigh dramatically for his benefit, but I know I'm smiling and he knocks his shoulder into mine.

"Alright. What do we do, Chef Hoying?!"

"Ok. First you choose your sauce and spread it on your pizza crust."

We both go for the huge bag of chick-fil-a sauce and spread it over our respective pizza crusts. Oh my God this is going to be awful. I start giggling as I look at the strange looking circle of dough.

"Don't judge it yet. Alright now for the french fries and nuggets."

I look at him as he starts piling on the fries and chicken and I'm only imagining how much cholesterol is in this concoction. He's like a child who has been given the ok to make his own dinner and he's just shoving all of his favorite things together assuming it'll taste good. Whatever. If it makes him happy. I arrange my toppings carefully until I'm satisfied and look over to see him watching me with a raised brow.

"It's not an art installation. It's a pizza."

"Shush you. What comes next." He pokes my dimple before turning back to his creation.

"Mozzarellaaaaa"

"I love cheese." I'm Italian. It's in my DNA.

"I can see that." He chuckles as he finishes sprinkling the last few bits of mozzarella over his pizza. "Alright now it's time to put them in the oven."

We carry our pizzas over to his fancy schmancy oven setup and put them in.

"And now we wait. Come on I owe you an ɑss kicking in Mario Kart."

"In your dreams."

"Oh, it SO on."

"Bring.It.ON."

We spend the next few minutes mostly wrestling over remotes and sabotaging one another until the timer goes off. We end up eating our (surprisingly amazingly tasty) pizzas on the floor of his media room and watching RuPauls Drag Race. It's fun, easy ... It's not until he catches me and calls me out that I realize I'm staring at him.

"I'm fine. I was just um... thinking." Thinking about how amazing you are, how talented, how sweet, how gorgeous, how much I want to kiss you.

"About what?"

He's watching me closely now and any courage I had been feeling begins to crumble. I want to tell him. I swear I do, but I don't even know how to formulate the right words.

"I dunno just... remembering how you were when I first met you. If I hadn't experienced it for myself, I would never believe you could have been like that."

He blushes a little, in shame or embarrassment, and looks down at the floor for a moment, picking at a fiber in the carpet. "It's hard to believe I was ever that stupid. You saved my career."