Frozen PizzaMature

Yes, I had bought the dress, but under the self-made condition that I would wear something over it. As soon as I got to my room, I began to look over my wardrobe. What could I wear with the dress?

I chose a pair of patterned tights and a crimson jacket that highlighted the swatches of crimson in my dress. I tried on all the clothes together, pleased with the outcome...and dreading Ginger's response.

"I can't believe you would play down a dress like that, Kenna! I thought you were trying to catch Leonardo's eye!"

Yes, I thought, but I want him to notice me for more than just a skimpy dress.

I twirled in front of the mirror, liking the way my hair flew around my head. For the first time in ages, I actually approved of the way my hair looked.

Maybe, it had to do with the fact that Leonardo had tucked it behind my ear. It had given me hope that maybe, he wasn't completely repulsed by the frizz. I smiled and tucked my hair behind my ear, replaying Leonardo's sweet gesture.

Someone knocked at my door, and I called out "Hold on!" before changing back into my regular clothes. Opening the door, my heart sank to see that it was Josh, not Leonardo. "Yeah?"

"Mom left a message on voicemail. There was a mix-up at work, so she isn't getting home til late." He made a face. "What is there to eat?"

"You think know?"

"It's your turn to make dinner."

I sighed and shrugged. "Frozen pizza sound okay?" I asked, leaning against the doorway and wishing that Leonardo would show up. "Or maybe ham and cheese sandwiches. You know I'm hopeless at making food."

"Yeah, you prove that, everytime it's your turn to make dinner," Josh snickered, and I gave him a shove.

Of course. Leonardo's first night here, and I'm the one who has to make dinner. I just hope I won't poison him or something. "Give me half an hour. I'll think of something to make."

But with my luck, there would be food spilled all over the kitchen, and nothing for us to eat.  Oh, well. If Leonardo was the type who stereotyped women and thought we should all be fantastic chefs, then he probably wasn't worth keeping, anyways. That kind of thinking was the first step toward misogyny.

I laughed inwardly. Leonardo, a misogynist? Unlikely. Well, I would see how courteous he was, when I served him a plate of half-burned, half-frozen pizza.

The End

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