4:07 am. I think to myself, where is my goddamned pizza? I've been waiting for an hour. As I look outside, as if on cue, a blue BMW convertible pulls into my driveway with the top down, obviously carrying my pizza. Nevermind that I haven't seen a pizza delivered in a BMW before, because BMW owners don't deliver pizza. I do the usual exchange of cash, take my pizza, and set it down on the nearby table and walk outside towards my mailbox. The blue BMW begins to drive off, then turns around and returns to my driveway and parks. For the first time, I notice that Whitney Johanneson just delivered my pizza in her blue BMW. She strangely pops her head outside the frame of the car as if she had to roll down her windows to stick her head out into the open air, and strikes up a conversation. Small talk, cracking silly jokes, the usual thing between us. Except she gets more and more endearing. Before I know it I find myself standing right next to her car in my driveway, talking about things that are unimportant compared to the things racing through my mind. As she says her goodbye, she sticks her head further out from the car and purses her lips. Holy moly, she wants a kiss. So there comes a kiss. Then another. Then a full-blown makeout session with her sitting in her car seat and me standing up, bent over to reach her. As we eventually pull ourselves apart, she starts to drive off as I squint in the sunlight and think I've got to order another pizza from the place she works at again.
4:10 am. Blake wakes up. Fuck.