Idiot For Hire [On Hold]

11: You Wanna Know if I'm Single, Huh?

 Idiot For Hire

Chapter 11: You Wanna Know if I’m Single, Huh?

When Nathan led me downstairs to the basement, I figured he was either going to push me into the pool again or take me to the game room. My second guess was right; his idea of a good time apparently involved video games and foosball tables.

“Prepare to be introduced to the great things in life: Family Guy, video games, and pizza,” Nathan declared, and I was reminded of the speech that had gotten him hired in the first place. He’d said something incredibly similar to this when he was telling me why he was the guy for the job.

“Wow, you weren’t kidding that day,” I said, sounding less than excited at the prospect of being subjected to God-knows how many hours of this. I liked hanging out with Nathan, sure, but something told me we had different ideas of fun, and eating a ton of pizza definitely wasn’t one of my ideas of fun.

“Nope. I would’ve introduced you to the beauty of Big Macs tonight, but this was kinda short notice,” he went on.

I took off my shoes and threw them aside. There was no way I was staying in those all night. “That’s alright,” I said. “That wouldn’t have been a good idea, anyway.”

“No. No way,” he said, and the vehemence in his tone surprised me. “This isn’t how tonight is gonna go. Tonight, you’re letting go. You’re not gonna worry about what your mom thinks, or what your boyfriend thinks, or what your nutritionist thinks. You’re gonna sit down on that couch and enjoy the pizza I’m about to order.”

I frowned. “But—”

“Nope.”

“Nathan—”

“Unless you’re gonna finish that sentence with ‘you’re a genius,’ I’m not listening.”

I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I guess having a slice or two won’t kill me.”

“Or three. Or four. Or five. Or—”

“Don’t push it.”

“Alright, fine,” he said. “After I order this pizza, we’re heading over to the video game corner, and you’re gonna try not to cry when I kick your ass at Mario Kart.”

I’d never actually played Mario Kart, despite owning the game, but that didn’t stop me from saying, “Oh, it’s on.” I think it was his irritating self-assurance that drove me to challenge him. I wasn’t sure, but whatever it was, it seemed to impress him.

He grinned and used my phone to call some pizza place I’d never heard of, claiming their pizzas and breadsticks were a foodgasm in your mouth.

“Don’t you have your own phone?” I asked.

“Yeah, but it’s upstairs,” he said, and he actually had the nerve to tell me to shut up when someone answered his call. I hadn’t even been talking anymore! “Hey, can I get a large pepperoni pizza, a large order of breadsticks and marinara sauce, and a liter of Pepsi? Unless you guys make extra-large pizzas. If you do, I want one of those.”

I slapped at his arm, a horrified look crossing my face. Was he feeding us or an army?  “How much food do you think we’re going to need?”

He confirmed his order—and was probably told they didn’t make extra-large pizzas, judging by the look on his face—before hanging up the phone and turning his attention back to me, saying, “You can never have too much food, as far as I’m concerned.”

“I beg to differ,” I said, ambling over to the video game area and shuffling through the video games we had as Nathan looked through the ones scattered throughout the room.