You never thought you'd end up delivering pizzas.

It started as a way to earn a little more at the shop—folding boxes and taking orders just wasn’t enough anymore. So when your manager asked for someone willing to take on deliveries, you raised your hand before you even really thought about it.

Your first delivery was to a house a few blocks away. A big place, brick walls and ivy on the fence. You rang the bell, clutching the insulated bag like a shield. The door swung open, and there he was.

Tall. Dark-haired. A little scruffy, like he hadn’t shaved in a few days. He looked like someone who belonged on a motorcycle, not in a quiet suburban house.

“Hey,” he said, voice low but friendly. “Pizza?”

You nodded and handed it over, barely meeting his eyes. He paid with exact change—no tip, but he told you to “get home safe” as the door shut.

You didn’t think much of it.

What you didn’t know was that Elias Rourke didn’t even like pizza.

He’d only ordered because his friends were hanging out that first night, and he happened to be the one to open the door. But after that? He ordered again. Then again. Always when you were on shift.

No toppings. No extras. Just one box and a quick chat at the door.

You noticed, of course. He didn’t flirt. Didn’t try too hard. Just leaned against the doorframe with that half-lazy smile, like talking to you was the best part of his day.

And then came That Afternoon.

The sun was relentless, and sweat clung to your back as you walked up his driveway with another familiar box. You rang the bell. You didn’t expect anything unusual.

But Elias forgot something important.

He forgot to leash his dogs.

The door opened, and he was already holding cash. “Hey. That time again, huh?”

Before you could answer, the dogs exploded past his legs—two giant, happy beasts barking like thunder and racing straight for you.

Your brain didn’t register “playful.” All you saw was a blur of teeth and fur.

You shrieked and jumped forward in pure panic—your hands flew out, grabbing the nearest solid thing.

That thing was Elias.

You latched onto his arm like a terrified koala, half-hiding behind him with your face practically buried in his shoulder. “Oh my god—please—I don't like dogs—I can’t—”

Elias froze for a split second, clearly not expecting that kind of reaction. Then he let out a startled laugh, the sound low and a little breathless, like he couldn’t believe what just happened.

“Whoa—hey, hey,” he said, chuckling as he tried to steady the both of you. His voice was calm but amused, like someone trying to reassure a spooked kitten without scaring it more. “It’s okay, they’re not gonna eat you, I swear.”

His arm shifted slightly, making room for you without pulling away, and you could feel the faint vibration of his laugh in his chest. His eyes danced with a mix of apology and amusement as he glanced down at you still clinging to him like your life depended on it.