Misery Loves Company

Track 20: Real Heroes Don't Wear Capes, They Make Pizza Rolls

Author's note: Hey guys! I wrote a 500 word story for the #WondertheMovie contest about choosing kindness. It's called "Keeping Time," and it's about a choice I made in high school (a looong time ago lol) that may (or may not) have saved my life. From time to time, I still think about that choice and what could've been, and remind myself to appreciate each day and treat everyone with kindness. The subject is a bit heavy, but I hope you'll check it out and vote.

Misery Loves Company

By: theinkslingerr

Track 20: Real Heroes Don't Wear Capes, They Make Pizza Rolls

When we got to my house, Rocco walked me to the door. My Mom wasn't home (surprise, surprise) and all the lights were off.

"Uh...do you wanna come in?" I was having a hard time unlocking the door, because I was super nervous. Before tonight, I'd never been on a date, much less invited a guy over to hang out alone.

"Sure." Rocco smiled, and waited patiently for my motor skills to kick in.

I stumbled inside, painfully aware of his muffled laughter as I flipped on the living room lamp.

When Rocco left I was going to burn these shoes in my backyard while dancing around the fire.

For now I just cleared my throat, slipping his jacket off my shoulders and draping it over the back of the couch. "Thanks for bringing me home." I tucked a purple curl behind my ear. "Do you want any water? Or like beer? Actually, I probably don't have beer so...water?"

"Yeah, that's fine," he said with a laugh.

We walked into the kitchen where I pulled open the refrigerator to grab him a bottle of water. Spotting a box of leftover pizza from Friday night, I asked, "Are you hungry?"

"Is that a trick question?" Rocco was peering over my shoulder, rubbing his hands together. "It's pizza- of course I'm hungry."

"Is your whole diet sour patch kids, water ice, and pizza?" I dragged the cardboard box out of the cold and set it on the counter, staring accusingly the entire time.

"It's the diet of champions."

"Do you know what a vegetable is?"

"A what?" Rocco asked, crossing his arms. His biceps strained against the thin, white t-shirt he was wearing, triggering about a dozen mental images of what Google had revealed during my illicit search. I shook my head to clear it, but picture number three in row five of the search results wasn't going anywhere. Taken during a tour, it captured Rocco sweaty and shirtless; bathed in azure light on stage. His Les Paul hung off one shoulder, smile brighter than anything I'd ever seen. I'd had to fight myself not to save the picture and make it my wallpaper.

I cleared my throat and looked away.

That boy definitely ate his greens.

I threw a slice of pepperoni pizza on a plate and moved toward the microwave.

"Wait," Rocco said, blocking my path. "I have a better idea."

My head tilted in confusion when he grinned. "Tell me you've got shredded cheese and a little basil?"

"No to the shredded cheese. Maybe to the basil." Opening the spice cabinet, I found half a container of basil, and handed it to him with a flourish.

"Good. Where do you keep your knives?"

"Why?" My eyes narrowed in mock suspicion. "I already promised you I wouldn't tell anyone about Mr. Fluffbutt. Or Saturday Night Wrist."

Rocco leaned back, elbows on top of the counter. "Hm...you do know too much. But I want pizza so you're safe- for now."