Page 108 of Trust Again

“After you’ve done that, press the dough flat, until it’s about half an inch thick,” Tony said.

Again I cast an eye at Spencer.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he murmured.

I just grinned. Before our “date,” I’d been worried that everything would be different between us. That there’d be tension or that our fight would still be hanging in the air. But I was wrong. Things were back to normal. Or maybe even better than normal. This date was terrific.

“How do you know Tony?” I asked, pressing on the dough.

“He used to work for my parents as a caterer,” Spencer said. “When I was five, he was my best friend. He moved here before…” He cleared his throat. “Before the accident.”

“Were you close then?”

“Dad wasn’t thrilled about it, but yes. Tony’s a good guy, and he taught me a lot. After he moved away, I was angry as hell, and things got out of hand.”

“Stop ruining your date with stories like that,” came Tony’s voice from behind us. He looked over my shoulder again. “Very good.” Then he checked Spencer’s work. “A little too thick, but we can work with it.” He reached for my dough and took the edge between his thumb and forefinger. “Now stretch and pinch the dough at this distance from the edge, around the whole circle.”

Again we followed his instructions.

“What about you? Do you still keep in touch with childhood friends?” Spencer asked.

I shrugged. “I’m still pretty close to Wren. He wasn’t in the same circle of friends as Nate and me; he’s the son of one of my father’s colleagues. We used to sit together in the workshop and talk about everything under the sun. Aside from him, I’ve broken off contact with everyone.”

He threw me a sidelong glance.

“Better that way,” I assured him with a smile. “I’m a lot happier here than I was in Portland. Because I can be myself. I don’t think I ever had friends like I do now.”

He nodded. “It was the same for me. All those people from the private school never really cared about me. After Olivia’s accident I didn’t stay in touch with them. They thought I was a freak because of the therapy, the medications, and because I’d rather spend time with Livvy than go to parties.”

It was amazing how easy it was for him to talk about it with me now. Where once there was a wall between us, now there was none.

“When can we throw it, Tony?” Spencer asked.

The chef looked at our pizzas, which were taking shape; he fixed an edge here and there, and finally nodded.

“Now you put your fist under the dough, like this,” he said and demonstrated on his own dough. “Make a fist with the other hand, exactly the same, and then you put it next to the other fist. Very good, Dawn.” He nodded enthusiastically. “Now pull your hands apart a bit.”

“But then the dough will get even thinner,” I said.

“That doesn’t matter at all,” replied Tony. “Now turn your left fist toward you and the other away from your body, so the dough starts to spin. That’s right, Spencer.”

Spencer had already gotten the hang of it, while my dough was just flapping around.

“Once your pizzas have the right diameter, you can move your fist in an arch backward. And the other fist goes forward. If you shift the motion slightly upward, the dough will spin faster.”

I tried, but my dough flopped to the side.

“That was just a little too fast, Dawn. You don’t want the pizza to stick on your pretty face,” Tony joked.

Over the next few minutes we tried to get the right spin going. It was harder than it looked. I got flour in my face and was pretty sure the apron wasn’t protecting much of my outfit. But after 15 minutes I got it down. The dough spun around on my fists, and I squealed.

“Wow, great, Dawn! Now you can throw it up in the air. But be careful not to tear it when you catch it on your fists,” Tony said.

I tried throwing it, just a few inches, and caught it again.

“That’s so amazingly sexy,” Spencer murmured.

I threw it up again, this time higher. I caught it on my fists and grinned broadly. “Look how cool I am!”