The Journalist and Her Actor

Chapter 7

No one ever said life would be easy, and yet I still really wanted to blame someone for how utterly complicated life could be. Especially when you had done ALL THE THINGS to make it complicated to yourself and you really just wanted to blame someone else for it. But part of being an adult was owning your own problems and slowly— and often painfully— digging yourself out of the 'well that was a dumb thing to do' hole you dug yourself into.

I had written up an article for the gossip website, but had left half of the details vague... After all, Lavender wasn't the leading lady anymore, and until I learned who was going to replace her— NOT ME— because that was an insane thought, I had half an article and a very grumpy boss who wanted answers I TECHNICALLY didn't have.

The uncertainty of it all left me distracted as I dropped a pineapple pizza off at a both with a single customer nursing an ice tea, my mind far off, wondering if I could just drag my sick brother to Scotland where we could spend the rest of our lives searching for the Loch Ness Monster, eating as much fresh fish as we could catch, and working on my poorly neglected Podcast about all things mysterious called "Sips and the Supernatural: Monsters, Mysteries and Murder." In fact, I was so distracted, that I didn't register the familiar face at the booth until I had plopped down the pizza and had turned to leave.

I whirled back, eyes wide. "West?!?" I asked, mouth open in shock.

He gave me a bright wave as he took a long sip of his ice tea, like the director of a big movie showing up at my pizza job was completely within the realm of normal. 

What even is normal anymore?

"What... why are you here?" I asked, staring down at him with a flustered look, face red as I took in his well kept appearance, which was a sharp contrast to the bright red booth and chrome topped table he sat against. I glanced towards the bar and was thankful to find Bex busy with a regular, who was once again complaining that he had asked for a glass with three ice cubes and was given a glass with two. 

If Bex saw me talking to Dustin West, who was an attractive man, she would have been sending me a thumbs up faster than a person given the blue shell in Mario Kart. And her reaction would have only gotten worse if she knew who Dustin was. There was no telling what she would do.

"I heard you guys make a great pineapple pizza," Dustin replied, plucking up a slice of pizza, a dimple tucking into the side of his cheek.

I wrinkled my nose. "Pineapple?"

He raised a warning brow at me even as he smiled. "People love to hate on it. But all it has ever done is stand at the forefront and declare that it is in fact okay to add the strange, the different to pizza." He took a bite before putting the slice back down. "It just says, 'Hey! Here's a fun new flavor to try out.' No harm in that."

I placed my now empty pizza tray against my hip. "Um... okay." Then I took a step back gesturing to his meal. "Have a good meal." I turned to leave, but his next words stopped me. 

"I am using pineapple as a metaphor for you of course, in case that wasn't obvious." He gestured for me to take a seat across from him. It was my turn to raise a brow.

"I'm working. Can't really sit while on the job."

"SIT!" Bex shouted from behind the bar. "I've got this!" Then she shot me a thumbs up, fully misreading the situation, her smile embarrassingly wide as she wiggled her eyebrows.

Thanks Bex...

Reluctantly, I sat down across from Dustin, fully aware that my Pizza Nerd apron was covered in a tapestry of marinara and Parmesan cheese, rainbow hair up in messy twin buns, escaped strands framing my sweaty face. I stared down at the pineapple pizza. "So... I'm pineapple?"