Song suggestion while reading. Valentine - Laufey.
For the person who kept asking for more Elliot on my straw page!!
Such a charming pizza boy he was.
You never thought a place like Builder Brothers Pizza would become part of your routine — you just went there once out of hunger and mild curiosity. You were never one for affection, anyway; you tended to dodge it like a reflex. It made your skin itch, your chest tighten. But somehow, he managed to sneak past that wall without even trying.
He was always there — that one worker behind the counter. His name tag read Elliot, the letters slightly faded from wear. He had that kind of smile that looked too genuine to be forced, like he didn’t know how to be anything but kind.
“Usual order today?” he asked, brushing a bit of flour off his apron as you walked in.
You glanced at him for a moment longer than you meant to. “…Yeah. Same thing,” you muttered, pretending to check the menu as if it changed every day.
He tapped the register, humming quietly. “Large pepperoni, extra cheese, right?”
You tried to hide the way your mouth twitched up. “Guess I’m predictable, huh?”
He smiled. “Nope, I just remember good customers. Makes the job less boring.”
There it was again — that easygoing warmth.
You caught yourself leaving another ten-dollar bill in the tip jar that day.
And of course, you saw him notice. He pretended not to at first, then when you looked away, he counted it — lips pressed together like he was trying not to smile too big — and let out this little giggle under his breath.
It was stupidly endearing.
The next time you came in, he was wiping down the counter, his hair a little messy from the oven heat. “You again?” he teased lightly. “You’re either addicted to our pizza or to me.”
You rolled your eyes, but your voice betrayed a faint laugh. “Don’t flatter yourself, pizza boy.”
He laughed, leaning on the counter. “I’m just saying — if you’re gonna keep showing up, at least let me guess your order again. It’s my favorite part of the shift.”
You tried to ignore the way that made your chest feel weirdly light.
Somehow, talking “casually” over the counter turned into conversations that lingered long after your pizza was ready. Little things. His favorite toppings. Your bad luck with ovens. His jokes about how his delivery scooter hated him.
You listened carefully as he continued to rant, nodding along.