He starts to drum his fingers on the table. “When it was good it was great, and when it was bad – it was really f**kin’ bad. I reached the point when all the highs – which were basically every day for me, were all bad. And that was when it was time to get clean.”
“I’m glad you’re clean,” I say.
“Me too,” he smiles.
The waiter comes over with our beers.
“Are you both ready to order, or do you need more time?”
“Oh, sorry, I haven’t even looked at my menu, yet,” I say opening it up.
“Give us another five minutes, man.”
“So what were you thinking?” I ask looking down at the menu.
“Pizza.”
I glance up at his smiling face.
“Ha, ha, funny. They do serve pasta and salad here as well you know.” I pull my tongue out at him.
“I remember.”
I get the impression he remembers so much more than I could have hoped.
“Do you want to share?” I ask.
“Are you still greedy?”
“I was never greedy!” I say feigning outrage.
“You ate like a guy,” he laughs.
“Are you saying I was fat, Jake Wethers?” I quirk my eyebrow at him.
“No. You were always a skinny little thing, I could never actually figure out where it all went.”
“My ass. It still does.”
“From what I remember of your ass it was always nice, I’ll have to check it out later – I’ll let you know what I think.”
“So you didn’t already check it out coming down the stairs?”
I can’t believe I just said that!
It’s him, he seems to bring out a new found flirty, naughty side of me.
He grins at me, it’s a sexy smile. My cheeks heat and so do other parts of my anatomy.
“So are we sharing or not?” I ask, looking back down at my menu.
“We’re sharing.”
Why do I always feel like there’s an undertone to everything he’s saying to me?
But he is a renowned womaniser, so flirting is probably just part of his genetic make-up nowadays.
“Okay, so we have the exotic choice of – Posh Pizzas, The Hut Classics or Make Our Own,” I say as I pour my eyes over the menu.
“I was thinking we could have our old favourite ...”
“Oh my god,” I look up at him laughing. “The Blazin’…
“Inferno,” he finishes.
“I haven’t had that pizza in years!” I’m still laughing.
“Me either,” he laughs. “So that’s what we’re having?”
“Definitely,” I beam.
I close my menu and that’s when I realise he’d never actually opened his.
He remembered the pizza without even seeing it on the menu.
I take a swig of my beer.
Jake signals the waiter over, who has been loitering by the doorway for the last few minutes, and he orders our pizza.
Jake picks his beer up and has a drink.
It’s still dead in here. Not one single person has turned up for a pizza.
“It’s good that it’s quiet in here tonight,” I say echoing my earlier thoughts. “No fans to hassle you.”
He smiles. “I paid for it to be quiet.”
“Huh?”
“I bought the place for the evening.”
“You bought Pizza Hut?”
“Not Pizza Hut as a whole, Tru,” he grins. “Just this one, rented, for the evening.”
“Why?”
“So we wouldn’t be interrupted.”
“Oh.”
I can’t believe he rented out the whole of Pizza Hut so we could have dinner together here, because it was, once upon a time long ago, our place.
I know he can afford it, easily, but still, it’s crazy sweet.
“Where did Stuart take the car to?” I ask, just thinking of it now, and actually why he was waiting outside to take it.
“He just took it back to the hotel. He’ll bring it back when we need it.”
“And your security guy?”
“He’ll be at the top of the stairs.”
“Oh.”
“Hey, do you remember those matching friendship bracelets you made us with that kit your mom bought you that one Christmas?” he says putting his beer down.
I wonder what made him think of that.
“Oh God, I really was lame.” I cover my face with my hands, my cheeks burning.
“I thought they were sweet.”
I stare at him surprised.
“Do you still have yours?” he asks.
I do. But if I tell him I always kept mine because it was just one of the many things that reminded me of him and I could never part with, might sound as lame as it actually is.
“I still have mine,” he says as if reading my thoughts.
“You do?” Now I’m surprised.
“Yes.”
“Where is it?” I look at his wrist.
“In LA at my house – so do you still have yours?”
“Yes.” My voice is lower.
“Where is it?”
“Here, in the UK, in my tiny flat.”
He laughs. “You’ll have to show it to me later.” His expression suddenly turns serious.
He wants to come in my flat? My stomach starts doing acrobats across the room.
“Okay.” I cough nervously, my face flaming.