“I couldn’t stop thinking about you today. Okay, not you specifically. It was more about the pizza that you brought me last night. All day long, I was taunted by delicious memories of the cheese, the spicy beef, the pickle zing, the satisfying crunch of the Italian thin crust…

You looked at me this time. I was embarrassed to be getting pizza delivered two nights in a row, but there was no judgement in your eyes, only warmth. You smiled and told me to have a great evening. I did have a great evening.”

Where’s the line between love and infatuation? Or is that feeling just hunger?

Read it here.

(published under J.L. Corbett, a previous pen name)