Kombucha and Pepsi (Chris Sturniolo)

Twenty Seven

January 24th

I step out of the bathroom in sweats and a hoodie, wet hair tied into a braid down my back. Chris sits in the kitchen scrolling on his phone, and my heart hiccups. I lean against the other side, resting my chin in my hand. He looks up at me and smiles, I return it.

"Wanna make our own pizza?" I ask.

He raises an eyebrow, "do you just want to order it? You don't have to stand with your side all bruised up."

"No way, that takes away from the fun! Besides, I'm okay." I wave a hand.

He looks at me, skeptical. "Alright, if you say so." And to that I grin.

It takes a total of five minutes for Chris to somehow be covered in flour, his hoodie and face and hair dusted with it. We've literally only started kneading the dough. We've been listening to Frank Ocean, singing along here and there as we get out all the ingredients.

Chris takes a giant gallop of tomato sauce and smacks it in the centre of his wonky shaped pizza dough. "This is going to be the best pizza you've ever had; I'm calling it now."

"It's going to be tough beating my dad," I reply, spreading the sauce over my circular dough.

"Venus," Chris says.

I bring my eyes up from my masterpiece in the making, looking over, just to be met with a face full of flour. My mouth drops open, "Chris!" But he's already laughing, not listening to me. "Fuck you," I say, but in comes out with a laugh I've been trying to keep in. I grab a fistful and throw it over his hair.

"Hey!" He collects pizza sauce from his pizza onto his thumb and creeps towards me.

I retreat to the other side of the island, "oh hell no, get away from me!"

He catches my wrist and pulls me to him, laughing at my struggle. "Chris," I warn as he holds my face with his other hand, his thumb hovering over the spot between my eyebrows. "Don't do it, I'll get you back!" He smears the sauce over my nose and forehead as I wriggle in his grip, shrieking. I pull away just enough to sweep my legs under his, sending him crashing to the floor. The only hole in my plan was the grip on my wrist, sending me down with him.

I land on top of him, hands on either side of his head. He stares at me for just a moment before bursting out laughing. I climb off of him, helping him up. Chris grabs a paper towel from the role that sits on the counter, wiping his hands before holding my face, wiping the pizza sauce from it. My stomach flutters as he tucks a strip of hair behind my ear to keep it from falling into the remaining pizza sauce.

Chris pulls his hands away, "there."

I frown, or well, try to, but my lips break into a grin. "Can we finish these pizzas now?"

"I guess we should, hm?" He says, leaning close.

My pizza turns out better, Chris's is...I don't want to say ugly, because that's rude, but it's hideous. He seems to like it though, so to each their own. We sit on the couch as we eat, watching a reality dating show that I've been watching and now am forcing Chris to watch. He complained about it, but now I'm catching him up on all the drama.

He turns to me, and I look back, flicking my eyes to his lips, "you've got something on your face."

He sticks his tongue out over the corners of his mouth, "did I get it?"

"No, here," I lean closer, lifting my hand and wiping the food off his cheek with my thumb. Chris's fingers curl around my wrist and I pause, bringing my eyes to his blue ones. "Chris?"

It takes a minute for me to register how close we are, so close we're sharing the same air. He hesitates, pausing for a moment like he's silently asking. So, I do what any girl with an unbearable crush and impatient heart would do.

I kiss him.

Aye love y'all take care LMAO

-EVIEREENIE