Page 20 of Waiting Game

Becausethat someone is a stranger.

CHAPTER 5

COLE

Born To Die - Lana Del Rey

I never looka gift horse in the mouth, but I’m definitely surprised by Mia’s offer.

Despite my billet bro’s mockery, there truly is chivalry buried in my eagerness to spend time with her tonight.

I’ve been where she is and no one should ever be alone—I have three siblings and practically a baker’s dozen of billetfamily in comparison to her zero. I’d never have coped if I had to get through my grief on my own so why should she?

Traffic is on our side so it takes a little under eighty minutes for me to reach her street, and along the way, I phoned in an order at a nearby pizzeria so I collect that in ten.

Nearing midnight by this point, I arrive at her door with a bag full of different pops and a twenty-inch pie. As I knock, I half-wonder if I made up how hot she is, but nope. Even though she’s clearly been crying again, she’s so fucking pretty that it steals my breath.

Helps, I guess, that she’s only wearing a towel.

And we have our green light.

Ugh. Gray’s right. The Blue Demonsareturning me into a prehistoric asshole.

I’m not beyond saving, though—I shove the pizza box at her first and foremost then order, “Food.Eat.”

Her puffy eyes focus on the box’s fastener tab and she fumbles the catch as she steps away from the door to let me in. A small cat twirls around her feet, making the exercise twice as difficult.

“Who’s this sweetheart?”

Her eyes gleam in the way that only a pet owner’s can when someone else is talking about their fur kid. “Cupid.” When she peers at the contents of the pizza box and finds a half-Hawaiian and half-cheese, her brow arches. “Thought the only true pizza in the world was Hawaiian...”

“I’m zealous in my defense of the Hawaiian pizza,” is my solemn response, “but you didn’t say you agreed with me, and tonight isn’t the night for an argument on substandard pizza toppings. I thought this was a safe bet.”

Her lips twitch. “For future reference, I’m a fungi gal.”

My nose crinkles. “They grow on shit.”

“What do? Mushrooms?” She waves a hand. “Good shit.”

“Is there good shit?”

“If you like mushrooms, sure. Anyway, I don’t think the ones that grow on cow poop are what they slap on a pizza, Cole.” She dumps the box on the counter. I watch her snag a massive slice for herself, sigh, then take a bite. After a couple chews and a big swallow, she mumbles, “Thank you for this.”

Her kitchen counter acts as a breakfast bar so I stack pop on it and haul my ass onto the stool beside hers. “You’re welcome.”

“I didn’t think you’d message me.”

I shrug. “I got home and I started thinking.”

“Thinking is dangerous.”

“It is,” I agree as I pick up a slice.

“Don’t you have to watch your carb intake?”

“You sound like one of my bros. You want the whole pizza, don’t you? One glimpse of glistening golden chunks of pineapple and baked ruby squares on a slice of gooey heaven and you’ve become a turncoat.”

She hides a smile. “Something like that.”

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