The Pizza Guy

I’ll admit, I feel kinda bad for the pizza guy, having to drive in the middle of all this snow. Especially since he has to drive all the way to my house—I live in the middle of fucking nowhere.

At first, I’m not sure he’ll even be able to make it up my driveway. But he does, and I open the door for him, laughing a little. “Sorry about that.”

"It’s okay," he replies, holding my pizza up in triumph. "I got the pizza, so it’s all good."

As he stands there, my super gay mind points out that he’s pretty fucking attractive—tan, with long hair and a pretty face. I tell my super gay mind to shut the hell up because this isn’t some cheesy porno. (Ha. Cheesy. Like pizza cheese.)

I’ve got the TV on and turned to the weather channel, and as I’m pulling out my wallet and paying the guy, I hear it proclaiming that there’s some sort of extreme winter weather warning going on (or something like that) and that people should stay where they are and avoid going outside.

The pizza guy and I turn to each other. “Well, that’s fine for me,” I say, “but what about you?”

At that moment, the guy’s phone rings, and he pulls it out of his pocket. “Well, that’s my boss, so I guess we’ll find out.” He answers it and holds it up to his ear. “Hello?” Pause. “Um, I’m dropping a pizza off. I’m, like, half an hour away.” Pause. “No, like, I’m literally in the guy’s house. He seems nice. Hm? Yeah, I just heard about that. He’s got the TV on.” Pause. “What? Um, I guess…yeah, okay. I’ll figure it out. Thanks.”

I raise an eyebrow at him. “So what’s the verdict?”

"He’s afraid we’ll get stuck in the snow, so he wants us to find somewhere to stay until further notice. For me, that’s, uh…with you."

My super gay mind hears an angel’s chorus. And wedding bells.

"Oh, okay," I say slowly, gesturing for him to come inside and closing the door behind him, because it’s fucking freezing out there. "Well, that’s fine with me. I’m lonely anyways."

He flashes me a smile. “You sound way more fun than delivering pizzas in this weather.”

I shrug, my cheeks heating up. “I’m not that much fun.”

He raises an eyebrow, and I swear to God, a little smirk makes its way onto his lips. Fuck, those lips should not look so good. They should be horrifically chapped from the cold. Damn him.

"Oh, really?" he says, and is that a suggestive tone in his voice? Either I’m imagining things, or he’s trying to flirt with me discreetly.

I really hope it’s the second option.

"Yeah, really," I reply, sitting down on the couch and gesturing for him to sit next to me, and hd does. "My life is boring."

"Oh, and the life of a pizza guy is so much more exciting?" he teases.

"Everything is more exciting than I am," I insist. "There’s nothing to do in this house. You’re probably better off facing the snow before you die of boredom in here."

He shakes his head. “I don’t think so.” Then he holds his hand out, looking as though he’s just remembered something. “Hey, I just realized we never formally introduced ourselves. Hi. I’m Vic.”

"Uh, I’m Kellin," I say a bit awkwardly, suddenly feeling a weird sense of embarrassment about my own name. "Vic" sounds so cool—not to mention extremely hot—and "Kellin" sounds made-up. It’s such a stupid, trivial thing to be embarrassed about, but I kind of want to impress this guy. He definitely seems to be taking an interest in me, for whatever reason.

"Kellin," Vic repeats, nodding. "I like that."

I raise my eyebrows at him. “Really? Or are you just saying that?”

He laughs a little, an amused look on his face. “Why would I lie about something like that?”

I shrug.

The amusement in his eyes slowly fades into what looks like affection, maybe even a new sort of fondness—the look of someone who’s thinking, Yes, I’ve decided that I like you.

"So," I say, "do you wanna eat the pizza with me?"

His smile widens at that, and holy fuck, he’s attractive, even in his pizza boy uniform. “I’d love to,” he says.

The ball starts rolling a bit faster at that point. Vic and I actually talk about things while we’re eating, making jokes and kind of telling our life stories. I’m thinking that there’s a definite possibility of flirting going on here, too. It’s crazy.

When we’re finished with the pizza and flipping through TV channels on the couch, it happens. Vic turns to me, an odd sort of look in his eyes, and says, “Can I be bold for a moment here?”

"You’ve been pretty bold the entire time you’ve been here," I tease, lowering the TV volume. "But sure, knock yourself out."

"Well…" He grabs the remote and turns the TV off. "How about we don’t watch TV?"

"What should we do, then?" I ask. I have a feeling I know where this is going, but I don’t want to get my hopes up.

Vic just stares into my eyes for a few seconds, as if he’s searching for something. Then he leans in and kisses me.

For a brief moment, I don’t do anything; I’m too busy trying to wrap my head around the fact that he’s fucking kissing me. Then I realize that I should probably respond, so I kiss back, pulling him to me and wrapping my arms around his neck. He smiles into my mouth, his tongue dancing across my lips as he grabs me by the hips. I take the hint almost immediately, climbing onto his lap and continuing to kiss him like there’s no tomorrow.

"Oh my God," he whispers, pulling away and grinning. "I didn’t think I’d be able to actually do that."

"Neither did I," I admit, laughing breathlessly. "How did you even know I was gay?"

"Well, there’s a bumper sticker on your car that says, ‘I’m so gay I can’t even drive straight.’ That was kind of an indication."

"Oh." I can feel my cheeks heating up, and I try to cover it up with another joke: "This feels like one of those really shitty pornos where it goes from ordering pizza to having sex with the pizza guy."

"All my friends make jokes about that," Vic says, giggling and slipping his hands underneath my shirt, moving them slowly up and down my body. "Ever since I got this job, they’ve been asking whether or not I’ve ever gotten laid."

I send him a faint smirk, an idea forming in my head. “And have you?”

He shakes his head. “Not yet.”

I kiss his neck, softly and deliberately, my smirk widening when he lets out a tiny moan. It’s time for me to be the bold one. “Well,” I say, looking up at him and starting to unbutton his shirt, “I can fix that.”