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“I like shrimp.”
She nodded. “And pepperoni.”
“Ham and pineapple,” he added.
She shook her head. “No pineapple. This is dinner not dessert. I cannot do fruit and meats together.”
He laughed at that. “Right.”
The waiter came and they ordered the pizza along with a soda for her and a beer for Malik.
She couldn’t help but stare at the veins in his arm, which shot upward like taut strands of rope, fading out into the massive bulge that was his bicep. Her mouth watered and she picked up her glass of soda.
“So what do you think about the competition?” she asked after she figured she’d drank enough to either cause a brain freeze or quench her thirst. The former was much more likely since every time she looked at Malik she felt parched.
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