Chris Oz American Pie Novels & Stories

"I don't think it'll take much longer." "I still don't understand how you ended up this way," my husband complained pointing to what I was doing. "Neither do I," I sighed regretfully, "What we were doing earlier was funnier." I laughed when he blushed again and focused on Mark's nails again. Chris and I had been making pizzas for dinner when I had gotten creative in lowering his zipper to kneel before him and suck him while he continued kneading. In the end we were surprised when Fred used his emergency key to come in and find Chris leaning against the counter unaware of the visitor and torturing the poor dough in his hands.

That was the full extent of what he was to me and I was certain of it without effort. What I was less certain of was what the next two and a half months would hold. Chris had a session with Dr. Osei at the end of the first week of June that he came home from with a quality I had not seen in him before, a specific settled gravity that was different from the careful deliberateness of the weeks since May. He sat down at the kitchen table while I was finishing dinner and he said he needed to tell me something. I turned from the stove and looked at him.

Rising to our feet, we made our way toward the kitchen and right from the door, the sweet scent of the Apple pie baking in the oven wafted through my nose. Chris, ever the cheerful man, greeted us with a wide grin and a flour-dusted apron. "Hey, you two! Perfect timing," he exclaimed, waving a spatula in the air as if conducting a culinary symphony. "I was just about to put the second batch of pie in the oven." Monica chimed in, her voice laced with curiosity, "So, what's the latest gossip, Chris? Anything juicy?" Chris chuckled, setting aside his baking tools for a moment. "Oh, you know how it is. Just the usual drama," he replied, his tone casual yet conspiratorial.

I simply stayed watching N*****x on the couch until he came over with pizza. "Isn't this like the hundredth time you're watching All American?" Chris asked as we ate. "Okay, slight exaggeration." I gave him a look before I focused back on the TV. "I just really like the show." "That's a mild way to put it." He said with his mouth full. "Grace, you're practically obsessed with this show." "Whatever." I shrugged, leaning back on the sofa after taking another pizza slice. "I'm not obsessed." "Mmhm." He voiced, his eyes glued to his phone. "If you say so."

Thankfully. "Ew! Gross! Now go get me your crown and I want my royal piggyback." "Fine. Fuck it. Oisin pick out the movie we are watching tonight. I don't want anymore depressing shit. Let's go with a comedy, maybe Life of Brian? Holy Grail? Or if you have to go American choose something with that Levi guy." "Eugene Levy is Canadian." American Pie, Schitt's Creek, Best in Show...

Forever. Chris.

Chris said and sniffed. "You should be in bed, Chris." I stated as we all walked into the kitchen. "That only makes me weaker." Chris said, opening the fridge and taking out left over pizza. "We got you the Oreos." Dean said, placing the bag of Oreos on the kitchen counter. "Thanks you guys. You got the drugs I asked you to get me, right?" Chris asked, taking out an Oreo. "Sure, of course. It's in the bag." I said.

“ You know no one can resist your mother's apple pie and her smothering Abilities” Chris shook his head, so all he took for his friend was a plate of apple pie to snitch on him. He finally stood up from his chair and went to join Liam on the couch. If he thought Liam looked like a wet puppy before. He just confirmed it with his appearance. Liam looked like a train wreck as if he was run over by a train. Spotting bags under his eyes and a few pimples on his forehead. Liam would always panic if he ever saw one pimple on his face, he love his skin more than anything in this world. “ Dude, what happened to you?” Chris asked, concern evident in his voice.