Page 89 of The Virgin Romance Novelist Chronicles
“Oh my God, I didn’t know I was getting a little potty mouth with the package I invited over. I like it.” He chuckled. “To answer your question, you need to knead the dough, make love to it.”
Easy for him, I thought. He definitely wasn’t a virgin, not with that body, that face, and those hands. Nope, he was experienced.
How do you make love to dough? Visions of me making out with the dough, thrusting my tongue at it and stroking the dough until it flattened ran through my mind. The whole idea was completely absurd, but then again, maybe it could work.
I leaned my head down for a second and then common sense kicked me in the ass and told me to be a normal human. Instead of making out with my pizza dough, I watched what Greg was doing and mimicked his movements.
“I think my fists are too small,” I said as I pounded on the dough.
Greg pulled away from his pizza and grabbed my hands. He brought them close to his face and examined them carefully.
“You know, I think you’re right. These hands are too dainty. Here, take my dough and I will take yours.”
“What a chivalrous man,” I joked.
“Don’t you forget it.”
We flattened out our pizza dough and once we were satisfied, we placed them on a baking sheet.
“All right, this is the fun part; time to put on some toppings.” He went to the fridge and started pulling out bowls with Saran Wrap on them. “I have diced peppers, peperoni, black olives, and broccoli”—he winked at me—“some sausage and mushrooms.”
“Black olives and broccoli . . . trying to win some brownie points, are we?”
“Is it working?”
“Remarkably,” I answered, knowing it really was.
“Yes.” He fist-pumped the air like a nerd, making me giggle.
Surprisingly, I was having a good time with Greg and was trying to figure out what was wrong with him. There was always something wrong.
After we put the toppings on our pizzas, we placed them in the oven and waited for them to cook. He invited me to his couch, and I sat down, crossing one leg under my seat so I was facing him. He turned toward me with his arm on the back of the couch. He was wearing a navy polo and jeans; he looked casual, yet very nice.
What had me laughing were his socks. They were yellow with strawberry frosted doughnuts on them.
I nodded toward them and said, “Nice socks.”
“Thanks, my mom gets me socks all the time with weird things on them.”
“And you wear them? Aren’t you the model son?”
He shrugged his shoulders. “She’s made it a hobby of hers now. She likes to find weird socks from different places. I get random packages of a pair of socks in the mail.”
“Really? That’s cute. What’s been you’re favorite pair so far?”
“Hmm, that’s a hard question. I have so many. Probably the pair that’s honoring the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge.”
“You mean Prince William and Kate Middleton?”
“The one and only.” He smiled. “One sock has the duke and the other has the duchess. I can’t tell you how into the royal wedding my mom was. She flew to England to stand outside and wave a flag of their faces on it while they rode down the streets on London.”
“Your mom was there?” I asked, completely awestruck. I mean, I wasn’t obsessed with the royal wedding, but I will admit I might have watched it, and I might have picked up a couple magazines but that was only because Kate Middleton was living a commoner’s dream. She was a peasant in the morning and a princess in the afternoon. When does that ever happen?
“She was. She started saving for her plane ticket the minute William and Kate started dating.”
“Seriously? But didn’t they break up at one point?”
“They went their separate ways for a brief moment in time, but my mom held out for them and stayed positive. I wish I had a recording of when my mom called me to tell me they were back together, oh and then when they were engaged, God, I really thought she was going to have a heart attack, the woman was screeching in my ear. It was rather intense.”
