After a nice, relaxed walk of about 20 minutes, we reached Pizza Hut and walked inside. Fortunately, it wasn’t too crowded, but we were about third in line to order.
“So, how much pizza you willing to eat?” Brian asked me.
I shrugged. “I’m not that hungry, but I could probably put away about four slices if I absolutely had to.”
“Yeah, same here.”
“I don’t know what kind of pizza I want, though.”
“Just trust me.” When we got up to the counter, Brian told the pimple-faced Hawaiian dude at the register, “Hi, can I get a pitcher of Pepsi and a large pepperoni-pineapple pizza?”
I smacked him in the arm, outraged that he was actually keeping the joke going. The guy punched in our order and said, “OK, that’ll be $11.84.”
I reached in my purse for my wallet, but Brian shook his head. “No, I’ll get it.”
I smiled, flattered somehow, but instead I said, “I should hope so, after ordering pineapple pizza!”
“Hey, it’s good. And I told you to trust me.” He gave me a teasing smile, but his eyes were serious. “Do you trust me?”
I looked into his eyes, feeling suddenly about as serious as he looked. “Yeah,” I said softly, wondering if he knew that I trusted him with more than just a pizza.
He smiled again. “Well, alrighty then.” He dug twelve bucks out of his wallet and handed it to the guy before we went to find a table.
“So, how you been doing?” he asked me as we were sitting at the table, waiting for our food.
“You sound like you haven’t talked to me in a month,” I laughed.
“Well, it was just the first thing I thought of.” He took a big drink of soda. “OK, seeing as we’re already friends and all, let’s just cut to the chase. What’s with Nick and Michelle?”
I made a face. “Don’t get me started. Some couples are way too cute for words. All I know is, when he walked out of my room last night, he was all glowing and stuff. I’ll bet you anything they kissed and he asked her out.”
“Actually, he didn’t. I had to really persuade him to call her earlier and ask her out. Cattle prods were involved.” I burst out laughing. “Nah, I’m just playin’. But seriously, I told him to ask her out because he wouldn’t do it himself. He’s shy like that.”
I nodded. “I know guys who are like that. I had a guy friend once back in Frisco who was in my homeroom my junior year of high school. We were pretty good friends, you know, and he wanted to ask this one girl to junior prom. So one afternoon I went over to his house to help him cram for a history test, and we weren’t getting any studying done, so I told him to call her. I’ve never seen anyone laugh so hard in my entire life. Then he got all pale and said something along the lines of ‘Hell no.’ I ended up having to pay him $15 to call her, and I thought he was gonna throw up, but it was worth it because they ended up going out for seven months.”
“Did you go?”
“I went to my senior prom, but not my junior prom. The theme was all jungle stuff. My friend was on the committee, and she showed me the layout. After that I told my date that maybe we should just go see Godzilla or something instead.” I paused. “The movie sucked, but it was better than a DJ in a loincloth alternating between the Chemical Brothers and Celine Dion for three hours straight.”
Brian laughed. “How is it that you have all these weird stories?”
“Hey, if I told you half the weird stories Michelle and I have between us, we’d be here all night.” Just then, our pizza arrived.
“Boy, that was quick,” Brian commented, grabbing a slice of pizza practically the second the waitress set it down.
“Yeah.” I eyed the pizza with disgust. “I seriously cannot believe you actually like pizza with fruit on it.”
“Pick it off if you want, but you’re gonna miss out.”
“No, I’ll eat it. But if it tastes nasty, I’m dumping my drink on you.” I picked up a slice that was loaded down with pineapple and took a big bite out of it. To my surprise, it tasted really good.
Brian watched my reaction. “You’re not throwing up all over the table, so I’m guessing it’s OK.”
“This stuff’s actually pretty good,” I said.
He grinned triumphantly. “See? I told you it’d be good. But you didn’t believe me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh yeah, Bri. Feel free to rub it in.”
A little later, as we were getting done eating, Brian asked, “So, wanna do anything else besides sit here and eat pizza all night?”
“I don’t care. Let’s just do something to keep busy. I don’t wanna go back to the hotel room and sit around all night, that’s for sure. I gotta burn some of these carbohydrates.” I was practically bouncing in my seat from caffeine and other extra energy.
“There’s a bunch of fliers over there. Let’s go check it out.” So we got up and went over to a bulletin board full of fliers. One that seemed to jump out at us was one for Ala Moana Lanes, a bowling alley on Ala Moana Boulevard. (AUTHOR’S NOTE: that’s a big important street in Honolulu, sort of a main drag)
“That looks cool,” Brian said, pointing to the bowling flier. “But Ala Moana isn’t exactly within walking distance.”
I plucked a bus schedule out of a slot on the wall and flipped through, trying to find a bus stop nearby. “There’s a bus stop a block from here. The next bus leaves at 8:15, which is in…” I grabbed Brian’s arm and held up his hand to look at his watch. “Seven minutes. So let’s just take the bus.” (AUTHOR’S NOTE: that’s a good shopping spot in Waikiki)
“They got such a creative name too, ‘The Bus’,” he joked, tapping the pamphlet. (AUTHOR’S NOTE: I wish I could say that was made up (LOL, j/k Hawaii people!), but the bus system in Honolulu is really called The Bus)
“Hey, I take The Bus to get here every day!” one waitress said snappishly as she passed us. At which point we decided to leave before we offended anyone else.
“OK, we’d like admission for two, and we need to rent two pairs of shoes,” I told the middle-aged woman behind the counter. I reached into my purse to get my wallet. “Brian, before you say another word, please remember that I am a girl of the new millennium and I only let you pay for the pizza because you wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“Hey, I didn’t say a word,” Brian protested, holding his hands up in a don’t-shoot gesture.
“Lemme give you some advice,” the woman told me. “When you’re on a date, you should let the guy pay.”
“We are not on a date!” Brian and I said in unison.
The woman gave us a skeptical look. “Sure you’re not. What size shoe do you need?”
“8,” I replied.
“Damn, you got big feet!” Brian joked. I elbowed him sharply in the stomach. “Ow! Never do that to someone who’s got a stomach full of pizza.”
“Good point,” I conceded. “If you threw up, I wouldn’t clean it up.”
“Now I know you’re not dating,” the woman laughed. “What size shoes, young man?”
“10,” Brian told her.
I smacked him in the arm. “You dork! A guys’ 10 is the same as a womens’ 8!”
“Oh. I knew that,” he said sheepishly. “I was just testing you to see if you were paying attention.”
“Yeah, OK,” I teased him. “Don’t worry. I was just playing.” I patted his arm. “You’re not a dork.”
The woman behind the counter shook her head. “You are the oddest couple of kids I’ve seen come through here in a long time.” She waved us away with a wrinkled, red-nailed hand. “Now go on. Shoo.”
“That might be the oddest old woman I’ve seen in a long time,” Brian joked as we headed for the rack of bowling balls.
“I know,” I agreed, picking up a bubblegum-pink ball…and nearly dropping it on my foot. “God, this thing’s heavy!”
“I think it’s because no one’s going to use it.” He adopted an Austin Powers accent. “Who uses a pink ball? Honestly.”
I laughed. “You’re weird.”
He grinned. “Yeah, yeah. That’s why you love me.”
“You wish,” I laughed, smacking him on the arm. “I like you as a friend and all, but…”
“Ooh, the sting of rejection,” Brian joked, pretending to pout. “That’s an arrow through my heart, Nat, really it is.”