Pizza in a Box
- DOMINIK -
Vanessa and I spend the next several hours talking about our lives while I quiz her about whether or not she knows how to make different drinks, and then she makes them and we taste test them. Despite the fact that we are on the top floor of the club, this is fun. It feels normal—almost like a date but better.
"I'm hungry," she says with a pout that makes me lean forward and kiss her for the first time in hours. I have been on my best behavior—not making any moves that would lead to more. But that pouty lip is too much.
"I am, too," I say between tugs on her lip, and she laughs softly—melting into me at the smallest touch. But I eventually pull back, because Vanessa means that she is hungry for real. And after what I have just learned about her struggle with anorexia over the years, I'm not about to ignore it.
"Should we order in?"
"Pizza in a box again?" Her eyes light up.