Page 55 of Pretend You're Mine

Once we had the dough rolled out, I started layering the sauce, cheese, and pepperoni. “What’s next?” I asked, glancing up at him as he stared intently at my every move.

“More pepperoni! Always more pepperoni!” he declared dramatically, throwing his hands up like a conductor directing an orchestra.

I laughed and piled on the slices, feeling warmth blossom in my chest. This was fun—real fun. I felt so relaxed and at ease, and I could tell Creed did too. I put the pizza in the oven.

“Okay, let’s add some more music to this masterpiece,” I said, nudging my phone toward him. “What’s next?”

He scrolled through our growing playlist, his brow furrowing slightly. “How about ‘Mr. Brightside’? It’s a classic breakup anthem, but it always gets me hyped.”

“Great choice!” I beamed, watching him tap it into our playlist. “What about you? What does that song remind you of?”

“It reminds me of my childhood,” he admitted, his tone softer now. “My mom used to play it while we were cleaning the house. We’d dance around and make up silly lyrics. It was a good time.”

After several more songs and laughter, the timer for the pizza dinged. I quickly opened the oven, the aroma of freshly baked dough and melting cheese wafting out.

“Now, that’s a pizza!” Creed exclaimed, eyes wide with approval.

“Want to slice it up?” I asked, handing him the pizza cutter. He took it with a flourish, spinning it around like a sword.

“Prepare yourself, pizza!” he declared, cutting through the cheese with exaggerated concentration.

“Don’t cut yourself, Chef,” I teased, leaning against the counter, watching him slice.

After he finished, I placed two slices on each plate and handed him a cold beer. “Let’s enjoy our masterpiece.”

We settled onto the couch, our plates in our laps, the glow of the lamp illuminating the room. The playlist we created played softly in the background, the first notes of “Uptown Funk” filling the air.

“You know,” I began, taking a bite of the pizza. “I never thought cooking could be this much fun. You’ve definitely raised the bar for first real dates.”

Creed smirked, taking a bite of his slice. “I aim to impress. And the pizza turned out surprisingly edible. That’s a win.”

“Hey! I’ll have you know that it’s an award-winning recipe.” I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t help but smile.

We spent the next few moments eating, laughter punctuating the air as we jokingly critiqued each other’s cooking skills. The atmosphere was light, filled with camaraderie and the kind of connection that felt electric.

“I’ve got an idea for our next cooking adventure,” I said, leaning forward, excitement bubbling in my chest. “How about we tackle homemade sushi?”

“Sushi? You mean I get to roll rice and fish while pretending to be a culinary genius? Count me in!” Creed laughed, his eyes shining with enthusiasm.

“Perfect! I’ll bring the sake.”

Just as the conversation began to flow smoothly, I turned on the TV and scrolled through Netflix, looking for something to watch. Creed leaned against me, and I could feel the warmth of his body seep into mine. “What do you feel like watching?” I asked.

“Something light, maybe a comedy? We need more laughter in our lives,” he suggested.

“Agreed. How about that new rom-com?” I pointed to the screen, and he nodded.

As the movie started, I could feel Creed’s gaze linger on me between scenes. I turned to catch his eye, and he smiled, a genuine one that made my heart skip.

“You seem to be doing even better since you confronted your family,” Creed said, his voice low and caring.

I leaned back against the couch. “I finally stood up for myself, and I’m damn proud of that.”

Creed smiled softly, relief evident in his eyes. “I’m proud of you too, Ave. You’re stronger than you think.”

“Thanks. It felt good to finally be honest.” I rested my head on his shoulder, savoring the warmth of his presence. “And thanks for tonight. This is the best first date I could have imagined.”

“Only the beginning,” he replied softly, his hand finding mine, fingers entwining effortlessly.

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