Page 16 of Welcome to the Friendzone

“Do you need a glass?” she asked him in a low voice.

Oliver felt the hair on his neck rise while listening to the sound of her voice. It sounded so different than it usually did when she used that tone. He liked it.

“Nah, the bottle’s fine,” he answered before slowly opening the cabinet and grabbing two plates.

Marta was still glued in place next to him, a storm appearing within the honey of her eyes. She’d been ready to open up to him before his phone rang. Hell, she’d really wanted to, feeling that it might help her on her journey towards healing. Help her to move on with her life, because with Oliver she felt safe and happy after months of existing in darkness, grief, and solitude. She’d had to digest so many things over the past year, from losing her husband and unborn child to severe physical damage from her own wounds to the mental trauma that came with all of that. Being constantly terrified that someone would come after her again.

Perhaps talking to Oliver would help her reduce all the pressure on her shoulders. He had this calming vibe that she craved and it reminded her of Frank. Maybe that was why she was drawn to him the more he tried to lighten her mood.

“What did you order?”

Oliver’s voice brought her back into the community kitchen, and she blinked a few times before stepping to where he was standing.

He’d opened both of the pizza boxes, looking at hers with a frown on his face.

“Bacon and mushrooms,” Marta answered, but when Oliver looked at her with still furrowed eyebrows, she added, “Is something wrong with that?”

“No…no. Absolutely not. Just can’t imagine that combo tastes good.”

“You wanna try a slice?” Marta smiled at him.

“Don’t know, to be honest,” he chuckled.

“What did you order?”

“Chicken barbecue.”

“Wow, Oliver. That’s the most plain-ass order ever,” Marta now laughed loudly, infecting Oliver with it.

“Is it?”

“Yeah, absolutely, but I like chicken barbecue. Can I have a slice of yours?”

The woman looked at him with puppy dog eyes, trying to convince him.

Oliver raised an eyebrow at her, drumming his index finger on his lips, and let out a long “Mhhhhmmmmm” as if he were giving her request some serious contemplation.

“Come oooooonnnn,” Marta whined when Oliver didn’t give her an answer right away.

“Why should I give you a slice of my plain-ass order when you can have your fancy mushroom pizza instead?” He asked her, his face still drawn into a weird grimace with his finger on his lips.

It looked adorable and Marta really struggled to not burst into laughter. Oliver really had a way of being hilarious by doing the smallest things.

“Because…” Marta started to think about the perfect argument, “…then you can try this masterpiece of taste as well. I’m willing to trade a slice of mine with a slice of yours.” Her lips were pressed together, trying really hard not to smile, giggle or laugh.

“I don’t think that’s a fair trade. You gotta pay me something extra if you want me to try THIS.”

He pointed at Marta's pizza.

“What do you have in mind?”

“You have to bake Christmas cookies with me tomorrow.”

“But I thought you’d already done that today? How many cookies do you need?”

Marta looked at him, confused.

“As Butch ate most of the dough I actually don’t have enough cookies to hand out to all our colleagues when they return on the 27th. I wanted to make small giftbags with home-made cookies for all of them as a welcome back,” Oliver explained and Marta could see his eyes light up when he proudly told her about his idea.

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