“Now this is an amazing smell. Unlike earlier. Tell me what I’m about to eat?” He gestured at the steaming pizza that the waiter had set on a serving rack between us. Milo’s intent expression was overtly hungry—eager eyes and open mouth—and heat rushed up my spine. I wanted to see that look more.

“This half is buffalo chicken. The other is barbecue brisket.”

“Wing flavors on a pizza? I love it already.” Milo smiled widely, like I’d known he would. He’d always been more than willing to try different pizza toppings growing up. Now I was, too, and even before he reappeared in my life I’d sometimes thought about him whenever I tried something outrageous.

“You’re easy.”

“Maybe.” His shrug and half smile had a flirty edge that felt new. And dangerous. When he sampled the pizza, eyes fluttering closed and tongue catching stray drips of sauce, the heat inside me turned to an inferno.

Even forcing my attention onto the pizza didn’t work. The flavors, which I usually loved, weren’t anywhere near as captivating as Milo’s face.

“So…boyfriends? Plural?” he asked as he helped himself to more pizza, voice way too deliberately casual.

“Not like a parade or anything. But, yeah, I’ve dated. I like dating more than random hookups for sure. But people have a way of not sticking around.” That sounded a little too emo, so I tried to make my voice brighter. “Stuff happens, and maybe we weren’t that serious to start with. They get back together with their high school person, or they go on a semester abroad and want to be free to sample the local everything, or they fall for someone at their internship. I’m still friends with everyone.”

“Wow. I can’t…” Milo shook his head.

“Can’t imagine there’s that many people willing to date me?” I narrowed my eyes.

“No, not that. More that I can’t imagine it for me.”

“But you want it?” My breath rushed out. I was far too invested in his answer. “Someday?”

His cheeks colored before he nodded quickly, not meeting my eyes. “Yeah. Someday.”

I wasn’t entirely sure where the conversation went from there. It felt significant somehow, but also like handling a live snake. Then he laughed, and everything was okay again.

“Right now, I want a significant relationship with this pizza. Like bring it home to meet my mom and change my social-media status.”

“Oh, my mom meets everyone in my social circle. Including this pizza. I got her hooked on another one they do with fig jam and prosciutto.”

“I’m gonna mention this place to my mom too. Pretty sure my relatives back in Catanzaro would flip at some of these flavor combos, but I’m sold.”

“I still remember that stuffed-pasta dish your grandma would do.”