The Search for Fireworks (ONGOING)

4 ~ The Pizza

The television was blaring on one of Bruce Willis' newest action movies, grabbing Reilly's unwilling attention. She couldn't hear her music and it was getting harder to concentrate on her novel, as each scene is louder than the other.

She glaced over. Blake was sitting on his bed, with his legs crossed, watching the movie on his own laptop. The portable speaker flashing at Reilly obnoxiously. She pulled her earphones out of her ears in frustration and jumped up, without missing a beat she pulled out the bluetooth port connecting the laptop to his speaker.

"Hey!" Blake shouted looking at the bluetooth port she held in her hand in shock. "What did you do that for?

"I can't concentrate!" Reilly sneered throwing the bluetooth port onto his lap, "Please, put it softer."

She moved back to her couch and continued writing, grateful for the few seconds of silence. She was typing in mid-air as the laptop got pulled away from her, her earphones popping out of her ears.

"What are you doing?" She shouted as she launched off the couch trying to retrieve her laptop out of Blakes grasp. He stood on the bed and held it up high enough to keep it out of her read, but low enough to read every word on the screen.

"I'm checking what is more important than my movie," he muttered as he scrolled down reading Reilly's innermost thoughts casually.

"Please, just give it back," she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes. Her writing was never meant for anyone's eyes, especially not his.

"You're writing a romance," he snickered, not noticing the tears in Reilly's face, "Really? This is good writing, except for the part where they kiss and fireworks explode, that's unrealistic. There's no fireworks in real life, love. Only fights and expectations." He tossed the laptop back to her before getting his own earphones out. Reilly moved back to her couch.

They spent the whole morning like that. Blake watching Bruce Willis movies with his earphones in on the bed. Reilly typing away on her laptop listening to Yellowcard.

Reilly stopped typing in the afternoon, wondering what she's going to eat, she hasn't eaten since yesterday, she barely finished her supper last night. She looked over to Blake, another movie flickering bright lights over his handsome features. A list of questions threading into her mind: Who doesn't believe in fireworks? What made someone so young bitter about love? What expectations are there in love?

"You're staring," he smirked, waggling his eyebrows at Reilly again. "I'm ordering food, what do you need?"

She looked at him then, noticing his smile never reached his eyes.

"Earth to Stanger Chick," he said waving his hand trying to draw her attention.

"It's Reilly," she answers finally, cringing at being called 'chick'.

"Well, Reilly," he said drawing out her name in exaggeration, "I asked if you want some food? I'm ordering," he took out his phone and gestured to it, emphasizing his intent.

"Uhm, yeah," Reilly nodded nonchalantly, pretending to type on, "Just get me whatever you're getting."

Blake got up and stood by the window, murmuring into the phone in low tones. She put her music louder, getting into her story again.

It wasn't long before a ringing filled the room, Reilly looked up from her book to find Blake had already answered the room's landline.

"The food's here," he said as he put the phone back. He reached into his bag, taking out his wallet, and left the room. Reilly sat on the couch, her left hand fiddling with the little cash she has left, hoping he didn't order half the restaurant.

Reilly's mind went blank as she stared at the door expectantly. He's been gone a while now. Just when she decided she better get up and go see if she could help him, the room door burst open, making Reilly sit back down in fright.

"Don't just sit there," Blake laughed from the door way, carrying four boxes of pizza and a packet in each hand, "Come and help me!"

Reilly jumped up and took the pizza boxes towards the kitchen area.

"Are you going to eat in the kitchen?" He asked, causing Reilly to turn around and look at him in question, "I'm eating on the bed, come join me."

As he said it, he fell down on the bed, the plastic bags bouncing next to him. Riley put the pizza in the middle of the bed and sat cross-legged on the other side.

"How much do I owe you?" She asked awkwardly as she opens all the pizza's examining the content curiously. She's heard of them, but never really had the pleasure of tasting one. Her parents had strict beliefs on junk food, and pizza, among others, was vetoed.

"Nothing," he says grabbing a slice and stuffing half of it into his mouth, stinting any chance of argument.

Reilly took a slice herself, akwardly trying to get the cheese to detach off the rest of the pizza. It seems to be a learnt technique. Finally releasing the pizza, she held it in both hands. She stared at the foreign food, the thinner side drooping over her fingers, hoping to get inspiration on how to eat it without looking like a pig.

"Don't tell me you're one of those calorie counting bimbos?" Blake muttered with a mouth full of food.

"No, no," Reilly stuttered, "I just never had pizza before, I don't know where to start."

Blakes pizza plopped into the lid as he stared at Reilly incredulously, before bursting into a fit of laughter.

"That's funny," he said after a while, out of breath, "Nobody on earth has never had pizza."

"Well, then I'm nobody," Reilly muttered. He sobbered up then, his eyes taking in her red cheeks and angry frown.

"You're serious?"

"Yes, I'm serious," she whispered.

Blake then searched different ways to eat a pizza and found this:

They spent the afternoon giggling trying a different method on each slice.

"I feel the fireworks now," Blake moaned dramatically as he pretended to make out with the last slice of pizza before polishing it.

"Thank you, I enjoyed that," Reilly said as she stood up and threw the empty boxes in the dustbin. She walked over to her couch, intending to write a whole chapter on pizza.

"Wait?" Blake called from the bed, "Are you going to just go back to writing?"

"Uh, yes," she said frowning back at him, "What am I supposed to do?"

"Come watch a movie with me," he said, gesturing to his laptop.

"I'm not really a movie person," Reilly said as she popped her earphones in and started typing away.

Blake stared at the strange creature on the couch. His eyes captivated by her frown as she concentrates on the words flowing onto the screen. Why is she here? Who grows up without pizza? Where in her body could she have fit the second pizza? Why on earth is she so fascinating to him?