Pasta Pick Up Line Novels & Stories

🎀MOANA🎀 Thirty minutes later we were at the most famous Italian restaurant in the city. Mylana loves Italian food. She always has. Even when she was a baby, she would get excited when I opened a jar of tomato sauce, kicking her feet and flapping her hands. The first word she said after "Mama" was "pasta." I cried. The restaurant was warm and crowded. Families laughing. Couples holding hands across tables. A man proposing to his girlfriend in the corner, the whole restaurant clapping when she said yes. Mylana watched the proposal with her head tilted, her green eyes narrowed, analyzing.

he stated. I sat up straight. A little shame slowly crept over my face. What are you thinking, Khrystal? Why didn't I assume he wouldn't do that if it wasn't usual to see it in him? Of course, Khrystal. He despises rumors, jezz! I cleared my throat and picked up the menu card in front of me. I quickly looked at him because I could feel him staring at me. “P-pasta. Pasta is enough for me. I guess,” I stammered, "Pasta A La Norma."

Like I needed health to be able to give him some choice words, my lips and tongue are working just fine and well enough to give him a lecture on his behavior. He bends and kisses me again before standing up and bringing the bag he had with him when he came in earlier. I saw the box of doughnuts and groaned, he chuckled instead. "These are not for you, you have consumed a month's worth of sugar in one night. The nurses at the nurses station would appreciate them. And for you my darling, I brought you pasta since you have a known weakness for it and would not be physically or mentally able to say to them." Pascal said and set up the meal on the bed table. I groaned as he elevated the bed for m

’ He pulled out a stool and indicated she should sit on it while he prepared and cooked their meal, she looked at him a little apprehensively but then relaxed a little and did as he asked. ‘Let’s get you something to eat, it’ll make you feel a little better. I could whip up a spaghetti bolognese or creamy chicken pasta ..’ Gabriella held up her hand, ‘That all sounds delic

a guy said, his head bending over a book. "Umm...sooo, Do you guys have Pasta? I mean, I would like to have Pasta and some Salad, one plate." He appeared to be focused on the book. Poor customer service, I noted. "In a paper bag please, I'm taking it home." Seriously, Soph, he doesn't care where you are taking it too! "Eww," he said. "What?"

she murmured. “Yeah?” “Why do you have, like... seven tattoos and none of them are food-related? You own a restaurant, Mr. Velluto Rosso. Where’s the little pasta noodle?” I grinned, “You want me to get a tattoo of spaghetti?” “Obviously. A single meatball with, like, storm clouds behind it.” I barked a laugh. “Or a fancy cursive quote. ‘Live. Laugh. Lasagna.’” “Oh my fucking God.”

By the time I was done, Cleo unimpressed eyes were still on me. "What," I drawled out, she rolled her eyes. "Going by your logic, shouldn't you be scared of eating pasta?” She said, throwing me off track for a minute. “Eating pasta in such large portion, I remember you rushing to the restroom over bad sauce from a pasta. Or what about that drink. That cocktail you love, what it's name again?" I signed, "Sex on the beach,"

S: "That’s not how you reply to someone who says good morning, love. It’s alright. I’ll let it slide this time. As for your question, I have my ways, love. Now, did you have breakfast?" This time, her reply came after a short pause. My gaze softened as I read it. P: "Yes, I had my breakfast. And before you ask me what I had—I ate cheese pasta. Satisfied?" I grinned. God, she was adorable. My fingers flew across the screen, replying instantly. S: "Oh, cheese pasta? You know, whenever I eat cheese pasta, it reminds me of you... and that dinner at your place. And the cheese I tasted from your lips... I can’t even express how unforgettable that was."

This time my laughter prolonged for much more time than it usually would. He looked at me dubiously. " Congratulations,doc. My pasta didn't kill you but made you crazy. " "Alexander King. " I grinned. "I, Dr. Celia, officially declare that you made the world's best fucking pasta. " Even I can't believe my own taste buds. The pasta is too good. Yummy, delicious are not the words to praise it. I need much more. This time,I ran into the kitchen and took the whole bowl and started to dig in.

The waiter nods, he walks towards me after getting Delian’s order, “what would you like to have this evening ma’am” “Pasta” I say, not bothering to look at the menu. He nods, “what type of pasta”, I smile, “I’m fine with anything as long as it’s pasta” “Okay ma’am. I’m on it” he says, before walking away from our table. “So?” Delian says, in an attempt to grab my attention. “So?” I repeat. “So are you excited about your third book being published?” He asks. I nod, “of course I am, and you know that”