“Here,” he says as he hands me the box. “I also got garlic bread because who buys pizza without garlic bread? And two lava cakes.”
He reaches for the drink, but he hesitates. “Why did you get the lemon drink?”
“You like lemon.”
“Noya…” Conner smiles as he leans towards me. “I wanted you to have the best experience of eating pizza, considering this is your first time.”
“And I am,” I reply. “I’m having pizza with you.”
After a few more minutes, Conner moves the vegetarian box to the back seat. My focus lingers on his pants when he clears his throat. Feeling ashamed of looking, I pay attention to the pepperoni pizza on my lap.
Conner reverses, saying he wants to go somewhere else for us to eat. Then, he grabs a slice of pizza and eats it as he drives.
“Conner, can I ask you a personal question?”
“Shoot.”
“The money…is it your parents?”
“No,” he says. “The money I spend is from when I worked and the pieces of art I sell online. The only money my parents give me is lunch money.”
“Oh…”
“You don’t have to worry about any of that. I enjoy spending my money on you. It’s the most rewarding thing I do.”
“I can’t repay you,” I whisper as my hands tighten on the pizza box. “I can’t return the favour or take you out for food.”
“I don’t care about that. What brings me joy is to see you smile.”
“Conner…” My bottom lip trembles. “Thank you.”
I grab a slice of pizza, and the grease and a string of melted cheese oozes down. Cupping the pizza with two hands, I bite into the tip. This cheesy, garlic, and salty flavour fills my mouth with delight, and my eyes widen at the flavours bursting on my taste buds.
All the memories of two-minute noodles, repetitive pasta from the tin, and toast without spread fade and are non-existent as I bite more into pizza, taking every inch in, for this is a once-in-a-lifetime experience. Mum and Dad would never buy me pizza. Even knowing I could afford it, the thought of something at the moment rather than lifelong things never appealed to me. I wanted the air-con, and now, even that seems to fade away from me.
Conner parks at this famous botanical garden in our city. It’s massive, with dominant trees, overly large bushes filled with flowers, and a lake weaving through the entire garden. People lie underneath the tall trees, resting on blankets and picnic mats.
He gets out of the car, and I follow. Conner sits on the bonnet while I lean against the wooden gate dividing the car park from the garden. He lights a cigarette and gestures for me to keep eating as he smokes. I take another slice and taste the capsicum and onion flavour dance on my tongue.
“Let’s go for a walk after this,” he says.
“Okay.”
We eat a few more slices and take a few gulps of the drink. Conner leans back into the car, puts his smokes and lighter inside, and locks the vehicle. We walk along the path that weaves through the entire garden, revealing blossoming summer trees sprouting yellow and red wattle.
I inhale the crisp scent of pine needles and the overpowering smell of flowers and mulch. “It’s beautiful,” I say as we walk across the bridge and overlook the lake. “Look, there are ducks!”
I stop walking and rest my hands on the railing. The ducks cluster near the family standing at the edge of the lake, with a bag of duck feed in their hands. The boy points at them and appears overly excited, while his parents watch from a distance.
A spark of envy rips through me.
I went to the park once, a long time ago. Dad howled, his voice scaring the ducks I wanted to feed until it was only me overlooking a still lake. Then, when it was time to leave, I threw all the bread into the water, and Dad grew angry that I wasted half a loaf. Afterwards, the thought of feeding something petrified me. But since that was the last time my parents took me to the park, it didn’t matter.
“What are you thinking about?” Conner asks.
I straighten up and smile. “Um, you said that you could name ten things you like about me in the car.”
“Hmm…” Conner smirks.