Pasta Pick Up Lines Novels & Stories

"Find anything that you would like?" I stared at him, then the menu, then back to him. "How am I supposed to know if I like anything if I can't read the menu?!" He chuckles. "What kind of pasta do you like?" I thought for a minute. "Spaghetti with meatballs and lots of parmesan!" I said as I licked my lips with anticipation. He snorts at me. "Do you need a room with your food?" I smirked at him. "As a matter of fact, yes I do!" I said as I stuck my tongue out at him.

As he took a sip of his drink I felt my stomach tighten. “Excruciating pain?”. I asked. “Let not talk about it just now. You’re hungry are you not?”. “A little”. I shrugged. “Why did you bring me here?”. I asked. “First proper date babe. I had to pull it out the bag”. He grinned. “I would have been happy with a burger and dirty fries”. I smiled as I looked over the menu again. “Do they do pasta?”. Fancy restaurants always did pasta right?

We go back to the room and sit on the bed with the plates between us. I take one bite. My eyes widen. “Lyra.” She watches me carefully. “Good?” “This is not good. This is dangerous.” “Why dangerous?” “If you cook like this, people will fall in love with you by mistake.” She laughs loudly. “Too late for some people.” I look at her. She looks back at me. We both look down quickly. “This is really the best pasta I ever had,” I say softly. She smiles. “I am glad you like it.”

🎀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.

And guess what I won. “I’m just asking there’s no harm on it.” He looked at me disapprovingly. “Fine. A month ago.” He let out a puff. I don’t know why but I suddenly laugh at that. I mean I didn’t really know that he’ll answer it! I’m just messing with him. Damn, he’s cute. “Why? When’s yours?” I stopped laughing. “Hmmm… dude I’m virgin so there’s no last time.” I said and tasted his pasta. Seriously pasta for lunch? Just fucking amazing.

I asked him putting another spoon of Pasta in my mouth and munching it. "Hmmm…this is amazing," I said again and looked at him for a response but his complete face was red and his jaw was clenched. "Are you angry because I asked you whether you are a chef? Don't be… I just normally ask that because this pasta is now one of my favorites. And, Being Mr. Armani's friend, you also must be a businessman. Maybe if you're not, I wish you to be successful in whatever career you are in just because you cooked me this pasta. But, remember you'll be a Mr. irritating idiot and Mr. arrogant too" I said and again lunged at the pasta, savoring each bit of it.

I was literally melting looking into his brown eyes which we lit up with happiness. "Again." He ordered again. I leaned near kiss ear, kissed his neck for a moment then whispered in my best sensual voice. "I want the pasta....now."

"Fridays are for fasting. But I'd break any rule for you." I smiled. He remembered. "Let's eat," I said, mixing a sauce just for him. Yeah, I felt lighter already. But I kept checking my phone. Paolo? Dead silent. This was supposed to be our third anniversary dinner. Instead, he was off playing house with his "childhood friend." I looked at the sauces—parsley green, pepper red, mustard fruit. Always picked the mild ones for him. He never even showed. That empty chair? A punchline.

“Which means you signed up for the ride.” His voice softened just enough to catch me off guard. “Maybe I like the chaos.” I stilled for a moment, the heat from the stove warming my face. “Careful,” I murmured. “Sounds like you’re falling for me.” “Sounds like I already did,” he countered. I smiled into the pan, biting back something warmer than I wanted to admit. “Well, that makes one of us.” He chuckled. “Liar.” “Maybe,” I said, tossing the pasta into boiling water. “But I’m a good one.”

“Almost dinner time in the land of the free. Wanna stay home, just the two of us? Or d’you feel like dining out with the guys?” “What would you do if I wasn’t here?” “Well, it’s Saturday night, so pasta at Massimo’s and then, who knows.” “That’s the Italian restaurant Sean likes, right?” “That one.” “Then let’s go for some pasta. And then, who knows.” “I like how you think, woman. I’ll pick you up in forty. Is that enough for you to get out of bed and throw some clothes on?” “Text me the address and I’ll meet you there.”