Page 56 of Love Under the Microscope
CHAPTER 13
JACK
On my way over to Zelda’s, I pick up a pizza—half pepperoni and half cheese since I don’t know which she’ll prefer—and a six-pack of pale ale. She didn’t mention having dinner together, but I haven’t eaten, and the first time I went over there, I showed up empty-handed in the middle of the night. I’m not making that mistake again.
I shift the six-pack under my arm, knock, and then grab the beer carton again.
The door opens, and I see Zelda in a pair of yoga pants and a sweatshirt. “No cartoon jammies?”
“It’s too early for those.” She peers closer at what’s in my hand. Her smile turns into laughter. The sound is almost melodic, and I can’t help but smile myself. Still, I wonder if my hair is sticking up or if I’ve smudged ink on my face. “Something funny?”
She motions me inside. “You’ll see.”
I’m not sure what that means, but I go inside, and she takes the pizza out of my hands. “Where—”
“The kitchen. You can leave your jacket in the living room.”
I shrug out of my coat and follow her toward the back. On the kitchen table is a box of pizza from a different place than where I went and a different but more expensive six-pack of pale ale. Now, I’m the one laughing. “Great minds think alike.”
“They do.” She places my pizza box next to hers and sits. “And now we’ll have lots of leftovers.”
I take the empty chair across from her. “Nothing beats leftover pizza.”
“Just don’t leave it sitting out on the counter overnight.”
“You must’ve heard about that guy who died after eating it.”
She nods. “Sad story, but it’s basic biology.”
“And food handling rules.” I open one of my beers and hand it to her. “I hope you like this brand.”
“Thanks.” She hands me one of hers. “I’ll let you open it. One of the store clerks said this kind is good.”
“It is.” And something I rarely splurge on, so this is a treat. I pop open the top and raise my bottle. “To great minds.”
She taps her bottle against mine and drinks. “This is tasty.”
We dig in to the four kinds of toppings. In addition to my two, she has a half-meat lover and half-vegetarian. Our choice in pizzas seems to match our personalities. I’m a single topping, while she’s a combination.
Zelda digs through a pile of small white packages that came with the pizza. “I’m not a fan of the red pepper flake packages, but I love parmesan cheese.”
“Then you’ll be happy to know I prefer the red peppers to the cheese.”
“Perfect.” She makes a neat pile of the red pepper flakes. “Just let me know if you get the urge for any parmesan.”
I can see why she’s such a good assistant. Despite her crazy plans, she’s organized, perhaps even a bit OCD, but I imagine those traits are a boon to Nate, Mr. Z, and Zentello.
As we eat, we don’t talk much, but the quiet is comfortable. She invited me over, but I don’t think it was a date. Still, it feels like a date, given we’re eating and drinking, and I’m not sure what to make of that. I like Zelda. I really like kissing her. But I’m not looking for someone to date, let alone a girlfriend—or at least I wasn’t even thinking about that until I met her.
Aisha told me she wanted me to fall in love again, but I never thought I would. I take a long swig of beer. Now, I wonder if falling in strong like is possible.
Zelda wipes her mouth with a napkin. “So how was your day?”
“Same old, same old. My editor, Drew, has been on me for a draft of the feature.” I’ll need to find a way to put him off. Something tells me patience is the name of the game with Zelda if I want to meet Mr. Z face-to-face, but I have to ask about something she texted me. “You said Nigel called you.”
She nods. “It’s bad, Jack.”
“You said he admitted to having your pages and is threatening to destroy Zentello.” If I remember correctly, those had been her exact words. I take a sip of beer.
