When the pizza does arrive, it’s just what
Dante needs to cheer him up—the two of them sit on the couch and go
through both pies while watching tv, feeding each other and
laughing until there’s cheese dribbled on their legs, their arms,
their shirts, the couch and table and everywhere. Ryan even finds
some in his hair later on, he’s not sure how that happened.
He’s decided he loves pizza-flavored kisses, Dante’s greasy lips
and hot tongue, the taste of oregano on his lover’s breath chased
with the fizzle of ice-cold soda. Even after they turn in for the
night, he can still smell the heady scent of cheese draped over
their room, though in the darkness, Dante’s kisses are fresh and
toothpaste sweet.
In the morning, Ryan’s stomach churns
nervously as he waits for Dante to finish
