❝Gimme some pizza
Gimme some pizza baby oh
Gimme some pizza❞

My phone buzzed for the hundredth time on the dashboard of my car. And for the hundredth time, I ignored it, continuing my directionless drive into another New York neighborhood as my mind continued to reel from the events of the day.

My decision had been final—that much hadn't changed. Even with Robin taking me aside and trying to make me reconsider my grand declaration in a futile twenty-minute discussion. In the end, he'd respected it, as torn up as he was about my leaving. However, during our little tête-à-tête after the 'disciplinary meeting', my boss of six years made an unexpected confession.

"My wife and I are actually huge fans of your work," he'd whispered, eyes darting around to make sure the coast was clear while his ears turned a shade of pink I'd never seen before. "We've followed your writing for years. In fact, she's a romance writer herself and a big, big supporter. I think you might have seen her on your Patreon actually."

The revelation shattered the mentor-mentee divide that had defined our relationship all this while. As he gazed at me, eyes filled with fascination and awe, it was the gratitude that struck me most.

"I know it might not be entirely appropriate to tell you this Harper, but you have no idea the kind of impact your work had on rekindling our marriage."

A couple of years ago, I knew the boss had been struggling with some kind of marital issues. Crass rumors had floated around the office that his new marriage was edging toward a divorce due to his time spent at FinTrix rather than at home. It came as a relief to his closer subordinates when those rumors had amounted to nothing.

"I've always been an avid reader but erotica and women's fiction is something I used to look down on, to be honest. I figured it's just 'ChickLit'," he'd continued in a gush.

"It isn't," I'd interrupted. "It's anything but. I feel like more men should be open to exploring their sexuality through literature, as opposed to the explicit visuals we're all bombarded with as a society online."

"That's what Marissa said too! After she introduced me to ErosInk, I realized how wrong I was. I prefer your writing to half the stuff that's out there with porn, to be honest."

On any other day, I might have fainted with joy. On one hand, my identity had been forcefully exposed, a blatant invasion of my privacy. But on the other, my stern boss, a 42-year-old corporate accountant, not only loved my work but believed it made a difference.

I couldn't quite process it, forcing a tepid smile to my lips even as Robin insisted I come over for dinner one night and meet Marissa.

"She's a huge fan," he repeated, one too many times, as he escorted me out of the conference room and back to my cubicle. The office was mostly empty, with the morning still in its early stages.

It was at that moment that I decided to cash in on all the chips I'd been saving for six years—all those overdue 'I owe you one's' and favors I had pulled for Robin, many of which had saved his ass (and, as it turned out, his marriage). At least now, at the very end of my chapter at FinTrix, I could make them work for me.

And it did.

Bzzt-bzzt.

I glanced at my phone again and sighed. Evan was not going to give up until I picked up the damn call. I flicked up the right turn indicator before parking the car on a vacant spot on the street, pulling it to a stop. Turning off the ignition, I reached for my phone and unlocked it, my eyes widening at the time.

Had I really been driving around the city for four hours?

My gaze dropped to the caller's details. As expected, it lit up with Evan's name and a photo of us together, drunk-grinning out of our minds at a music festival. My ever-anxious work bestie never understood the concept of personal space or silence, even with my ignoring him for hours.

Bracing myself, I took the call.

"You got laid off?!" Evan's voice burst forth like an alarm klaxon on steroids, threatening to blow out my eardrums.

I leaned back in my seat, the corners of my lips twitching upwards in a sardonic half-smile. Evan's tendency to leap to conclusions without any parachute of reason was as endearing as it was maddening. But in this case, it worked in my favor.

"Yes, Evan," I replied, infusing just the right amount of misery into my tone. "I'm officially a free agent, and not by choice."

A strangled gasp echoed through the phone. "Harper, no! Are you okay? What happened?"

If I told Evan the truth, he'd probably combust from sheer shock.

"It was all so sudden," I only partially lied, trying to keep my voice as flat as possible. "They called me into the office, said something about how the code of conduct email was an accidental send but what they'd intended to meet with me about was a 'restructuring,' and then, poof, next thing I know, I'm out on the streets."

There was a dramatic pause, and I could almost see Evan clutching his chest in distress.

"That's awful, Harper. Who do you want me to murder? You have a man on the inside."

"You're sweet but I should have seen it coming," I replied, sighing for effect. "It's all about the bottom line after all."

Evan let out his own sigh of sympathy. "I can't believe this happened. If there's anything I can do, just let me know."

"I appreciate that," I said, my voice softening. "But for now, I guess just need some time to process everything."

"What about your place?"

"What about it?" I asked, absentmindedly.

"Harper, did you forget? Didn't your landlord give you a notice about the rent rising on your lease renewal? That's next week, right?

My stomach dropped. In all my time spent roaming the city like a directionless penguin, I hadn't even thought about the $1,000 rent hike looming ahead. Another thing I'd dismissed, thinking I'd handle it just fine once I got the promotion. Now, I was out on my ass.

"Harper?" Evan pushed, the worry seeping into his already concerned voice.

"Y-yeah, I...I have enough saved up."

Another lie. This one, Evan saw right through.

"Do you?" Evan pushed. "Cause last I remember, you sent another big ass check for Lucas and you said you'd 'handle everything else' after the salary hikes."

"Evan, I—"

He interrupted me, making up his mind.

"I'm coming over right after work and we're going to figure this out. I promise, Harper."

I held back tears and smiled, lowering my head and resting my forehead on the wheel.

"Thanks Ev."

"You hang tight for me, Harp."

My heart warmed at his genuine concern, and for a moment, I felt guilty about my lies. But then I remembered the actual events of the day and why I couldn't tell him the truth. I wasn't quite ready to tell him about ErosInk yet. Knowing Evan, he'd first balk at the idea of me having a sensual bone in my body and then require a month's time off work to even process the fact that I was ErosInk.

With another thank you, I ended the call and then sat up, glancing out of the car window and drumming my fingers on the steering wheel as I imagined just how the reveal would go. Evan had often teased me about my 'virginal' status once we'd gotten close enough. Never in a shaming way but from a curious, 'how is it humanly possible' way.

But after I'd opened up to him about my dating history that read like a laundry list of human crap, he wasn't surprised to hear I'd gone the celibate route, prioritizing my career over everything else. A career that he only knew half-about.

My stomach rumbled loudly, my body beating my mind to the centre of attention. I needed food. My GPS told me I was just a couple blocks away from my place and I was in no mood to go eat out at a restaurant while feeling this miserable.

Just opposite where I parked was a huge grocery store. Shrugging to myself, I got out of the car and into the vacant street. I was running low on food at home. Might as well re-stock on supplies while nabbing myself a frozen pizza—the best form of quick comfort food I could get right now.

Entering the grocery store, I quickly grabbed myself a cart and wheeled across the various sections, pulling things off the shelf half-heartedly. I wasn't really present enough to assess whether or not my unemployed ass needed tortilla chips. No, my mind was stuck on the real story behind my leaving FinTrix. While I told Evan I'd been laid off, the truth was far from it.

After a convincing negotiation with Robin, I'd managed to get myself a fairly sweet parting deal with secure three months' pay, the bonus I'd been rightfully owed, and a little bit of severance on top of that. I'd insisted that those who knew of my ErosInk persona sign an NDA and not reveal it to a soul (Robin's wife being an obvious exception.) I might have subtly threatened to leak it to the press just how anti-feminist all this scuffle was otherwise, a tactic Robin had smirked at and happily played with the HR head.

The charade of making it look like a lay-off worked. Maybe a little too well. I couldn't imagine it being pretty when Evan did eventually find out, but that was in my hands.

The wheels of the cart screeched against the floor like nails on chalkboard when I turned into the final section. I winced and blinked a couple times, bringing myself back to the moment.

Frozen foods, yes, this is where my money was at.

I already knew what I wanted, my eyes scanning the lengths of the frozen storage containers for my go-to pizza, the Tombstone Roadhouse. That delectable combination of crispy crust and savory toppings had never let me down on many a night spent writing. To my relief, there was just one left inside a desolate pizza refrigerator.

I didn't think twice. I plucked it out and dropped it in my cart, mouth already watering as my stomach let out another loud growl. Skipping breakfast to placate my nerves hadn't been a good idea.

I looked down at my cart and almost did a double-take. At some point of my stress-induced shopping spree, my stomach had taken a life of its own. The grocery cart had practically become a veritable cornucopia in its own right.

I bent over, fingers fluttering over the various items I'd mindlessly added. There were two bottles of wine, one for me and Evan respectively. Too many chips but he'd be grateful for them later tonight so let's keep those. My eyes landed on two items that were certainly not food: a box of heavy-flow tampons and a jumbo pack of XL condoms.

From the depths of my chest, my subconscious laughed cruelly.

We both know you don't need either of these, Mrs. Nice Flow.

With a mortified shake of my head to myself, I swiftly removed the extraneous items from my cart, making sure no one had witnessed my brief foray into awkward grocery territory. Stationing the cart to the corner, I retraced my steps to the other parts of the store with the condoms and tampons in hand, deciding to drop them off where I'd found them.

And of course there had to be someone stocking up the toiletries and hygiene section just as I came up. A teenage boy looked up from where he sat, crouched on the floor with what looked like a tray of bandages and first-aid items.

"Hi. Need any help?"

His eyes dropped to my hands and he flushed, smirking nonetheless.

"Never mind, looks like you're all sorted."

These damn cheeky high-schoolers.

He sniggered quietly to himself as I returned the items where they belonged and turned fast on my heel, feeling the embarrassment come off me in waves.

I practically jogged out of that section, navigating back to Frozen Foods where I'd last left my beloved pizza. However, as I approached my cart just about ready to fly it out of the store and back to the shame-free zone of my apartment, I was met with a sight that defied all logic and reason.

My Tombstone Roadhouse pizza was gone.

My stomach dropped for the second time today. This time, the sensation was more visceral, a physical pang reverberating through the empty abyss at my core. I'd had peace and stability already stolen from me today, I didn't need the world's best budget pizza to be the third.

The sound of squeaky footsteps made me snap my head up. Toward the far end of the aisles, I could make out another cheeky kid waltzing away with a tragically empty cart. Empty spare for one item.

"Hey, you!"

The dark mop of hair chose to ignore my call, wheeling away the precious cargo as if it were a grand heist, his nonchalant attitude only stoking my growing fury.

My heart raced, and a surge of anger washed over me. How dare this pizza pilferer abscond with my silver lining for today? Did he have any idea just how much that pizza meant to me, how many nights the Tombstone Roadhouse had kept me company while I wrote my fingers to the point of oblivion so I could fulfill people's fantasies online while avoiding the dread of the next 9-to-5?

My grip on the steering tightened and my left revved it up unconsciously. I broke into a jog, which soon became a full-out run.

"Oi, kid! I'm talking to you, shortcake!"

The closer I wheeled to him, the bigger he got. He was an inch or two shorter than me but was built like a quarterback with broad-ass shoulders and a big head of shaggy dark hair that was an overdue a visit to the salon. He was halfway to turning when my eyes dropped to the pizza again, feeling a flare of fury that I could not control.

Oh Gods, Hangry Harper was coming out and in this battle for pizza supremacy, I was ready to fight for what was rightfully mine.

I could have slowed down. Hell, I probably should have. But my vision turned shaky, adrenaline kicking my anger into Mad Max territory, and just as the kid turned, I rammed my trolley right into his.

It was a glorious debacle, like something straight out of a book I'd write. His cart was sent careening off from the impact, the solitary box of pizza flying in the air and landing closer to me. I skidded to a stop with my boots like the Flash, standing above him in all my vengeful rage as he stumbled on the slippery tiled floor and landed smack on his ass.

Seeing his face, I realized with a twinge of horror, this was no kid. This was a full grown man. I don't know why but it made this entire situation worse...and more infuriating.

Shortcake seemed utterly unfazed by the situation, staring up at me with a blank slate in his eyes as he propped himself up on his palms. Not a word of apology came out. He just sat there like it was his brain I'd knocked out and not my pizza, watching me with gray eyes as blank as dull slabs of stone and a tightened jaw that resembled the chiselled fineness of a Michelangelo masterpiece.

My gaze zeroed in on his uneven eyebrows, the left one thicker and more fuller than the right which stopped a centimetre or so short in length to the first. Like he'd lazily hacked it off while attempting to shave his stupidly-adult face. The caterpillar on his forehead pissed me off, almost as much as his silence.

"What are you, some kind of dumbass?"

Finally, some form of human emotion entered his eyes upon hearing my words. Not the positive kind either. His lips turned downward and he glared at me, his eyes scrunching together in an uncomfortable squint as he tilted his chin back to face me from the floor.

I took one step forward and bent forward, my face looming over his.

"Give me back my goddamn pizza."

It was lying right there on the ground. I could have just picked up the box and walked off but no, I wanted to put this thief in his place. Stealing was on the top of my list of unforgivable crimes.

Up closer, his gray eyes were lighter. I'd never met someone with gray eyes before but there was an understated beauty to them I hadn't been expecting. His eyes grew sharp and he opened that lightly stubbled jaw of his to fight back, only to say...

"I'm 28."

He was a year older than me?

"I'm also not a kid."

That he most certainly was not. I looked him up and down again, not even attempting to hide my scorn. It was my bad to think he was a kid from a distance but only a kid would blatantly steal food from someone else's cart. Had grocery-shopping etiquette disappeared? What was becoming of this world?

Straightening my back, I let out an audible huff and moved back to where the Tombstone pizza lay. Fortunately, the box was undamaged. I couldn't say the same for Shortcake's pride though.

I put the pizza back into my cart and started to walk away, giving him one last distasteful glance before heading to the check-out counter. No one was going to rob me of my peace and get away with it. No one.

Instead of feeling embarrassed about the scene I'd caused, I embraced it as a win. I had a history of avoiding confrontation with people I knew, let alone complete strangers. This? This was character development.

Smiling wide, I wheeled up to the one open counter in the otherwise deserted store. A gangly guy with thick-rimmed glasses and a comic book open in his hands manned the counter.

"Hi..." I looked at his name tag. "Casey."

He didn't bother looking up from whatever comic panels he was absorbed in. Instead, he pushed his glasses up his nose and muttered in a dull drone.

"Start placing your items here please."

"Right."

I moved over to the other end of my trolley to start picking things up when I saw him. He'd made a turn from the farthest end of the store where I'd left him on his ass, his eyes scanning the check out counters like a hawk. Searching for me.

Shit.

He found me and for a short second, I hoped all he'd do was flip me off and walk away. But no. His eyes zeroed in on me and a deep, dark scowl took over his otherwise pretty face.

Ohshitdicks.

He was out for blood.

"Uh...on second thought, can you scan just this pizza please?"

Casey groaned in exasperation, so deeply that I had to look at him and make sure he wasn't a dying moose.

"What about the rest of your cart, lady? You asking me to re-stock all that?"

"I'll pay you extra for the trouble," I said hurriedly, my eyes lifting from Casey's annoyed ones to the set of steel-grays shooting out daggers...and getting closer. "Just the pizza please."

Casey grumbled under his breath and picked up the frozen pizza, bringing into the scanner. He waved the bar code under it twice but nothing happened. The cardboard was a little bent, blurring out the barcode a bit.

"I'll have to register this manually."

"Could you do it faster?" I pleaded, all the previous boldness I'd had dying away. Shortcake was zoning in.

"Trust me, I'm trying," Casey muttered.

Before Casey could finish the job, Shortcake came rounding up on us. His cart hit mine for added measure, but not as hard as the first time. It did the trick though, grabbing Casey's attention enough to stop him from clocking in my pizza.

"That," Shortcake declared, his voice booming out lower and deeper than Hades himself, "is mine."

Hangry Harper, looks like we've got a fighter on our hands.

_____

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Song: Gimme Some Pizza by NATHY PELUSO

P.S. Yes, I'm well aware I'm practically trolling my characters with the song selections now. Weirdly enough, this song has a rather sexy vibe to it. I can totally imagine Harper digging into her pepperoni and writing her erotic stories online with this playing in the background.