Chapter 18. Homemade Pizza Counts as Fancy Dinners
Homemade Pizza Counts as Fancy Dinners
Rob lived in a renovated two-bedroom townhouse not far from the flipped house he’d been working on. There were pictures of his family around the house—some framed ones hung on the living room wall, a few sat on the bookshelf, mostly photos of him with his siblings and his mother.
Noticeably missing were photos of him and his dad.
“Nice place.”
“Thanks.” The tiniest look of pride colored his cheeks.
“My grandfather left all his grandchildren a bit of money when he passed away a few years ago, enough for a house deposit. I found this place for practically a song, because it was so old, and the interior of the house was in appalling condition. I gutted the inside and slowly fixed it. It’s not big, but it’s mine. ”
I glanced around, impressed. “You did all this yourself?”
“Yeah. Finished it six months ago. Took me a bit longer than expected, but at least I was saving on rent, because I lived here while I was renovating. That was what had given me the idea to start the flipping business.” He tossed his keys and wallet on the kitchen island and began rummaging in his fridge.
Several wedding invites were stuck to the door, next to Polaroid snaps of him with his niece and nephews.
He took out a large, covered bowl and a few smaller containers, then placed them on the kitchen bench. “I made the dough last night.”
I hopped on a kitchen stool. “Ellie would have loved this. She’s a big pizza fan.”
Rob washed his hands, then uncovered the bowl, took out a big ball of dough, and sprinkled some flour on a wooden board before placing the dough on it.
“I’ve made some for her and Alec.” He began to gently push in the center of the dough with his fingertips.
“My mother used to make pizza often, because it was something all six of us kids would eat without complaining. She taught us to make it ourselves. My sisters didn’t really care, but me and my brother were keen to learn, mostly because we thought this could impress girls. ”
Not gonna lie, the way his fingers were working on the dough was pretty hot.
“Do you want to learn how? Maybe this would help impress some of the guys you’re trying to win over.”
“Ah, no. You don’t want me touching things you might want to put in your mouth.”
He looked up at that, humor twinkling in his eyes. “I don’t?”
“That wasn’t supposed to be an— Oh, fine, show me what to do.”
I washed and dried my hands, then came over to his side of the kitchen.
“Start by rolling the dough over your knuckles. Use your fists, and work to form the dough into a circle.”
He stood next to me, watching as I placed the dough over my fists to shape it into a larger circle.
It wasn’t easy, because no matter how long and how hard I tried to make the dough larger, it seemed to stay the same size, and I finally gave up after the dough flopped down onto the kitchen counter for the third time.
Rob chuckled. “Let me show you.”
Before I could move aside, he stepped behind me and grasped my wrists, gently guiding me to turn the dough around.
“You’ll want to leave it a bit thicker on the edges for the crust.” He kept directing my hands in a soothing rhythm, patiently rotating the dough in a circle. “I usually make it a bit bigger, because it’ll shrink back a bit.”
But I wasn’t paying attention to the dough, or what he was explaining, because the only thing I could focus on was how he was standing behind me. His firm body, his now-familiar scent, the heat of him surrounding me, and how it all just felt … right?
“Watch this.” He flicked his wrists and tossed the dough lightly, sending it airborne, like what professional pizza chefs would do, then did another toss, his forearm brushing my shoulders as he did so, before setting down the pizza base.
“Okay, now you’re just showing off.”
“Is it working?”
Hell yes, it’s working. “Performance wise, I’m impressed. But I’ll reserve judgment until I taste the final product. For all I know, the pizza might not even be edible.”
“Tough crowd tonight.” His low chuckle rumbled in my ear, sending shivers all over my body.
“Now we do the sauce.” He stepped away and handed me a tub of tomato paste.
“Then the toppings. You’re the guest, so you get to choose.
I’ve got mozzarella cheese, pepperoni, ham, mushrooms, olives, and onions. ”
“No pineapple? I thought you’re a fan of pineapple on pizza.”
“That can be on our next pizza dinner.”
I ignored the swirls in my stomach at the promise. “Let’s do pepperoni, cheese, and mushroom.”
“Excellent choice.” He slid the pizza into the preheated oven and set a timer. “I’ve got some drinks in the fridge while we wait. Help yourself.”
I chose a can of lemonade and watched as he washed and chopped some lettuce, then added it into a bowl with some quartered cherry tomatoes, sliced bell peppers, and red onions.
“How about a movie while we’re eating?” He tossed the salad and took out a bottle of dressing from the fridge, then carried them into the living room while I brought the plates.
“Sure. What kind of movies are you into?”
“I’ll watch anything with a good plot.” He took out the pizza when the oven dinged. “I know you’re into classics, so we can do that if you like.”
“Let’s see what our options are.” I plopped down on the sofa, picked up the remote, and flicked through the movie choices.
“Why classics?” Rob placed the pizza on the coffee table, then folded one of his legs underneath him and sat down next to me. “What drew you to classic movies in the first place?”
“It was something I used to do with my grandparents.” A smile tugged the corners of my mouth at the memory.
“We used to have family movie nights on the weekends. My grandfather would go to our local Blockbuster on Friday nights after work, pick up a couple of movies, and we’d watch them on the couch with my grandmother’s homemade popcorn, sweet Indonesian iced tea, and chocolate chip cookies.
That was how I got my love of movies. Her favorite actress was Audrey Hepburn, so that was what my grandfather often borrowed, but it wasn’t always classics.
We used to watch anything and everything, and I think I might have watched too many movies I wasn’t supposed to for my age.
No one really cared about movie ratings or content warnings or parental guidance in those days. ”
“Which ones did you watch that you weren’t supposed to?”
I grinned. “All the Bond movies, for starters. Opa is a huge fan. The Godfather, all three of them. E.T., Raiders of the Lost Ark, The Terminator. Seriously, I could go on and on.”
Rob chuckled. “Sounds like you had a far more exciting childhood than mine.”
I smiled. “It might not be perfect, but it was the best.”
“Is there anything in particular you feel like watching right now?” His eyes were riveted on my face. “We can find one that you used to watch with your grandparents, if you like.”
I was touched he offered. “We don’t have to. It’s been a long day, so maybe we can do something light and funny.”
Rob thought for a while, before nodding. “I know. What about a rom-com? Actually, yes. Why don’t we do that?” He leaned closer and pointed at the remote in my hand. “May I?”
His shoulder brushed mine, distracting my brain from forming a coherent response. “May I what?”
He grinned. “My mission tonight is to show you a funny, entertaining, romantic movie. Think of it as part of my services. We want you to believe in happy endings, don’t we?”
“But those movies aren’t real.” My fingers grazed his as I handed him the remote, and I had to suppress the shiver that went through my body.
Quickly diverting my attention to the food, I picked up a slice of pizza and bit into it, and almost moaned at how good it was.
“Oh, wow. This is amazing. The crust is so light and fluffy.”
“Glad you like it.” Rob was flicking through the selection of films on Netflix. “When Harry Met Sally? It’s a classic, and it’s one of my favorites.”
“That’s also Ellie and Jenna’s favorite. I’ve seen it way too many times.”
“How about 27 Dresses? It’s light and funny, like you wanted, but it also has heart.”
“Yeah, but that was one of the first movies Leo and I saw when we started dating.”
Then I vetoed While You Were Sleeping (“The premise isn’t realistic enough for me.
”), Romeo + Juliet (“I thought you said we’re going to watch funny movies?
”), and Notting Hill (“Sappy Hugh Grant doesn’t do it for me.
He’s hotter in his villain era.”). After I nixed The Proposal (“It’s going to remind me of Betty White.
Too sad.”), Rob looked like he was about to force-feed me the remote alongside the pizza, but only sighed and gave it back to me instead.
“Fine. You choose.”
“Let’s find a non-romance flick.” I scrolled through the choices. “What about the first Hunger Games?”
“I wouldn’t call that light and funny.” Rob took a bite of his own pizza. “You do know it’s also a love story, right?”
“I don’t know which movie you’re talking about, but it’s not The Hunger Games.”
“The love triangle between Katniss, Peeta, and Gale? How Peeta has had a crush on Katniss forever and how he’d risk his life for her? It’s a fucking love story.”
I pressed play. “But at least there’s gore and death to balance the love and kisses.”
He groaned. “You’re impossible.”
“No, I’m realistic.” I covered my yawn as the title sequence of the movie began to play.
“Because those sickeningly happy, overly sappy romantic movies give false expectations to single women everywhere, teaching young people to expect a perfect, swoony, heartbreakingly handsome partner. But nobody in real life could live up to the characters in those romance movies. People like that aren’t real.
So why would you spend two hours of your life watching something that you’ll be invested in, only to be disappointed when you realize that nothing like that would ever happen in your own life? ”
“But aren’t we trying to make it happen in your real life now?”
“It hasn’t happened yet, has it? I think we need more movies showing single women thriving even without a partner in their lives. And you know what the best part of being single is?”
“I’m sure you’re going to tell me.”
“You don’t have to check in with or answer to anyone, or plan your life around them, and be constantly mindful of someone else’s needs and wants other than your own.”
“That sounds like a pretty sad and selfish way to live a life. And lonely.”
“It’s not. I’m not lonely, because I still have wonderful people in my life that care about me,” I said.
“And that way, you don’t have to sacrifice your life or your identity for another person.
Nobody expects anything from you, nobody can hurt you, and vice versa.
If you’re hurt, you only have yourself to blame. ”
“I think you won’t have to ever sacrifice any part of yourself if you’re in a fulfilling relationship with the right person.
” He was watching me, looking thoughtful.
“All healthy relationships will have a good balance of give and take from both partners. Not because you have to, but because you want to, because you care about the other person.”
“I haven’t seen that in real life.”
His gaze stayed on me for a few brief seconds. “Seriously, if I ever have the chance to meet your ex again, I’m going to have some words with him.”
As we finished our food and settled into the movie, my day finally caught up with me, because my eyelids started to droop as I watched Peeta confess his love for Katniss to the audience. And the last thing I remembered before succumbing to exhaustion was thinking that Rob wasn’t wrong.
Even a damn dystopian movie had to have romance in it.