Body Art

12 | you wanna pizza me?

By the time Connie returned, DJ had come back downstairs in some slightly less intimidating attire and was much more agreeable. The three of us were in the kitchen discussing college courses and comparing professor stories when Connie nudged the door open and appeared with two boxes of pizza in her arms.

"Alright," she exhaled while sitting them on the granite countertop, smirking at how our eyes lit up at the sight. "One's a supreme, the other's half Hawaiian-half pepperoni and mushroom."

DJ, in her oversized Metallica tee and ultra baggy sweatpants, scrunched her nose as she handed out some plates from the cabinets. "Ew, who likes Hawaiian?"

I slapped a decent sized slice of said pizza on my plate. "Who likes pepperoni and mushroom?" I quipped.

She glanced down at her plate and pursed her lips. "Touché."

"Yeah, I didn't think so."

Playing along, Dom glared and aimed a slice at me. "You wanna pizza me?"

Dominiqe James: serving bad jokes and opposing stereotypes one day at a time.

"Connie, how much was the supreme?" Taz asked, one hand already in his pocket.

"Nope. Nope nope nope, you are not paying me back." Connie put two slices of supreme on a plate and slid it to the wide eyed boy. "Your friendship is payment enough, Taz."

He didn't argue, just took the food, uttered a little, "Thanks, Con," and moved to sit at the table before anyone could see the pink dusting his cheeks.

"Anytime," Connie chirps from my side. "Plus, it's not like we've got anything better to do tonight."

Taz was quick to cut me a devious look. "Well, that's not entirely true."

I knew exactly where he was going with that and before I could even narrow my eyes, Connie was already asking what he was talking about.

"What if I told you there's a party on the other side of town?" His eyes, glinting with mischievous delight, jumped to each of us. I looked to DJ, hoping that she'd be less interested by the idea than her sister.

She shrugged, answering around her pizza, "What if there was? There's always a party going on somewhere."

"Fair, but you haven't been to one like this before."

DJ rolled her eyes, looking more her age now in her old tee and sweats with her hair pulled back. "Why, because this one has strobe lights and smoke machines?"

"I doubt it." He sat back in the chair, breezily replying, "Adrian isn't big on those kinds of things."

My brow knit. "Who's Adrian?"

Taz's eyes finally landed on me, the weight of his gaze contradicting the nonchalant tone in his deep voice. "Adrian Dunham. He's a friend of mine—"

"Excuse me?!" All eyes cut to Connie, who looked she'd just won tickets to a taping of Ellen. "Adrian Dunham the model?!"

Taz was unfazed by the question. "Yep."

Her jaw dropped. "How do you know him?"

"We went to school together."

"Um..." DJ looked just as confused as I felt. "Who is Adrian Dunham?"