Pizza Girl // A. I.

Chapter 1

     "Can I have your address?"  I ask the costumer on the other end of the line.

     "1963 Workhill Drive," he says.

      "Okay. About 20 minutes."

      "K, thanks."

      "Mhm."

I place the phone down and sigh, writing up another order and handing it to Alfred, the 'chef.'

I watch in awe at how he twirls the pizza in the air and catches it perfectly.

Maybe I could do that one day. Maybe if I worked hard enough and tried learning it. Maybe if I did get that job I could get paid more and pay for my apartment and-

I was snapped away from my thoughts by my bosses booming voice.

"Kelsey!" Mr. Picleo yells.

"Yes?" I ask.

"After this you're done for the night, you'll get your paycheck Monday."

"Okay. Thank you, goodnight," I say, nodding my head at him.

I waited about 15 more minutes, playing on my phone and serving costumers to pass the time away.

"Here you are Hun," Alfred said to me, handing me two pizza boxes with breadsticks on top.

"Thanks, goodnight Alfred!" I called, walking out the back door.

"Goodnight! And be careful!" He called back.

I waved my hand, letting him know that I had heard him. More costumers were waking in as I got into the delivery car.

Friday nights were usually our busiest. Our pizzeria was filled with teenagers, friends, and families.

The house I was going to was only a few blocks away, which made me wonder why the costumer couldn't just pick it up.

I pulled into the houses driveway. The house was much bigger than my family's, when we weren't broken up.

I knocked on the door a few times and waited, for 3 minutes. I rang the doorbell twice, and waited 3 more minutes.

I sighed, getting ready to leave when I heard the door open. My head whipped up from my phone, to be met with brown eyes.

Sorry, let me correct that.

Ashton Irwin's brown eyes.

"You're Ashton Irwin," I said, still kind of in shock. I didn't hate his band, 5sos, but I didn't care for it.

"Please don't scream!" He said, worriedly.

"Do you automatically think that everyone one is a fan of your band?" I asked, annoyed.

"You aren't, a fan?" He asked, hesitantly.

"No. In fact I really don't care for you or your band."

"Ouch."