Yes, so it seems I've jumped onto the Matt/Hannah ship bandwagon. There aren't a whole lot of other people here on this bandwagon, but there's plenty of room if you'd like to join us :)

Okay, that sounded weird buuuut anyways I decided to write this little one shot because I'm really obsessed with writing in Hannah's POV lately and seeing the sassier side of her. I hope you like this, and I blame the people over on Tumblr for getting me into this ship!

"Dude, I'm gonna need you to take this last delivery."

Matt tensed, gripping the door handle as the shop's worn-out bell swung soundlessly above him. "No, man. I'm not doing it."

"Last one for the night! Please, for me? I promise I'll return the favor."

Matt scowled over at his coworker. Dave was just about the flakiest guy he'd ever had the displeasure of meeting. The likeliness of hell freezing over was higher than the chances of Dave "returning the favor."

Despite this, he swallowed his misgivings. Something in the sweaty, hairy 40-year-old man's tone tugged at Matt's heartstrings. Was that a hint of desperation, maybe?

"That's what you said last time," Matt grumbled, knowing full well he wouldn't accept this without complaint. He grabbed the stack of pizza boxes from the counter, trying to ignore the ocean-sized pit stains in Dave's white t-shirt as he shot him another glare.

Dave offered him an army salute. "Thanks, Taylor. You're a lifesaver!"

Matt continued muttering various profanities under his breath during the walk through the small parking lot to his car.

The car was an old Ford that was older than Matt himself and might've been admired in its golden days. Twenty-some years later, however, its dark blue paint had suffered through a great deal of unpredictable California weather. The weather-lashed body was faded and discolored in some places. Rust perfectly traced the edges of the front and rear bumpers and had, at some point, formed a little path toward the license plate that got another centimeter closer with each passing year. The Domino's pizza logo on top of the car was hanging on only by a few strips of duct tape and some heaping globs of gorilla glue. Because of its oh-so-pristine condition, Matt had affectionately named the vehicle "Rusty."

Matt set the pizzas on Rusty's roof for a moment, taking a quick box count. One, two, three, four… five, if the breadsticks were counted. Four pizzas with only one box of breadsticks equated to either a sad party or one lonely stoner with a severe case of the munchies. Doing this job for two years had exposed Matt to many a strange person. Considering a delivery this late (eleven PM) and the fact that one of the pizzas was laden with anchovies, Matt was expecting the worst with this one.

He dug his keys out of his pocket with a heavy sigh. The parking lot's lone flickering, moth-covered lamp was his best source of light for him to see so he could unlock Rusty without accidentally keying his own car.

The interior of the Ford wasn't much better than the exterior. The radio had been stuck on a weird AM talk show for six months now, and the only solution Matt had discovered which didn't empty out his wallet was to simply have the volume on zero 24/7.

He peeled out of the parking lot into the breezy July night, glancing at the address he was headed to.

Matt did a double take at the sticky note. Oh, no way in hell!

"324 West Ridge Drive," he muttered in disbelief. West Ridge Drive was part of the wealthiest neighborhood in the tri-county area.

"Christ!" Matt swore. Okay, so forget pathetic get-togethers and potheads. Wherever he was delivering to, it was gonna be way more interesting than either of those four-pizzas-one-box-breadsticks outcomes. Even if one of the pizzas had anchovies on it.

Five minutes later, Matt was turning onto the famed West Ridge Drive. His heart thudded like a jackhammer in his chest as he scanned over the enormous houses— no, not houses— mansions! Thirty of Matt's apartments could easily fit in just one of the front yards.

As Rusty sputtered and shuddered past numerous front-yard fountains and cement lions and long, twisting driveways, Matt grew more anxious. His nerves were little bouncing balls under his skin, hopping up and down and making him dizzy.

"324, 324…" he mumbled to himself, squinting at one grand mailbox after another. He was a good two miles deep into the neighborhood when, at long last, the correct number materialized.

It wasn't until Matt had pulled over the car to the spotless curb and got a good look at the house/palace when he saw just who the place belonged to.

A three-foot-tall plaque next to the mailbox was embellished with a large "W" and read, "Home of movie mogul Bob Washington & Family | Est. 1993."

Matt felt like he'd just been hit by a scalding frying pan. "Ho… ly… shit. Bob Washington likes anchovies on his pizza? Who knew."

He was about to meet one of the best horror flick directors of all time. The mind behind "Blood Monastery" and "Remains." Those were only Matt's favorite movies of all time.

Matt hopped out of the car and made his way up the tall hill to the house with more eagerness than that of a kid in a candy store.

He was so eager, in fact, that he was halfway there when he realized he'd forgotten the pizzas.

Way too many seconds later, Matt was standing on the small-swimming-pool-sized front stoop with hot pizzas burning his arm as he reached for the doorbell.

oOo

"Ooh, that should be the pizza!" Beth Washington yelled above the deafening ding-dong-ding of the doorbell. "I'll get it."

"Finally! I'm starving," her brother Josh replied from the kitchen.

Another voice, tinged with amusement, piped up. "I thought you said you're losing your appetite from smelling my vegan egg rolls?"

Beth rolled her eyes as she jogged down the hallway to the front door. Josh's response came within two seconds: "Psh, c'mon, Sammy! You know I can't resist pizza. But that vegan shit is offensive. It'll take ages to scrub that stench out of the oven."

Sam gave a resigned sigh. "I'll just have a salad next time…"

On her way through the foyer, Beth paused at the entrance to the living room. Her sister Hannah was huddled under a wool blanket on the couch like it was the dead of winter in Alaska. The familiar red loading screen of Netflix glowed on the screen of her laptop, reflecting in her glasses.

"Han, are you really gonna spend the rest of your life watching Pretty Little Liars on Netflix?" Beth asked, leaning her head into the dark room.

Hannah groaned, hiding her face when Beth turned on the lights. "Leave me alone!" she warned.

Beth leaned on the molding in the doorway, swinging one leg back and forth. "That blanket isn't an invisibility cloak. You can't hide from the world forever."

One hand slithered out from under the blanket, middle finger up.

Having decided to accept momentary defeat, Beth finally went up to the front door while calling over her shoulder, "You need to get over Mike already. That jackass was way out of your league."

Hannah snorted. "You're dating my best friend! What the hell do you know about guys?"

Beth ignored her and swung open the door, peeling away five dollar bills from the stack of money in her hand. "How much do I owe you?" she asked without looking up.

oOo

Matt stared at the girl in front of him. He was completely and utterly speechless. His tongue flopped in his mouth like a fish out of water.

"Uh— um…"

The girl finally glanced up, one eyebrow arched. "Twenty? Twenty-five?"

Get ahold of yourself! Matt's insistent thought prodded him out of his trance. "Haha, er, twenty, I think. No— wait… twenty-two."

"Jeez." The girl made a tsk, tsk sound. "I swear it gets more expensive each time," she complained as she handed over the cash.

Matt was in the middle of giving her the pizzas when another intriguing face appeared in a doorway behind this pretty stranger. She looked like a Sherpa, with a thick, furry blanket draped over her head and wrapped around her body. Big, black-framed glasses were perched on her nose, and a sprinkle of neon orange Cheeto dust was smeared over her mouth.

Matt barely saw her for a second, however, before she gasped and swiftly hid back inside the room.

The girl at the front door followed his gaze and turned around, confused. "What?" she said. "Sam?"

A very attractive girl with her blonde hair tied back in a messy ponytail stepped into the foyer, chewing on what looked like an egg roll. "You rang, babe?"

Babe? Matt's heart sunk. A house full of hot women, and they're all lesbians.

The brunette at the door shrugged. "Eh, forget it. Here, help me carry these?" She dropped two of the pizza boxes into the girl named Sam's arms. There were a few blissful moments of silence, then the dark-haired girl grinned stiffly at him. "Uh, thanks. Have a good night."

And then the door shut in his face.

oOo

Hannah darted out of her Netflix sanctuary, nearly tripping over her blanket en route to the kitchen.

The sound of Josh and Sam's bickering could've been heard from miles away, so up close it was unbearable. She crept up on the duo and Beth— who were all seated around the large island— unheard and unnoticed.

"Thanks for the help, Joshua," Sam remarked with an irritated grunt as she set down her half of the pizza boxes on the white marble countertop.

"Hm?" Josh was just two bites deep into a heaping slice of anchovy and mushroom, but he was almost at the crust.

"Such a gentleman, helping out with carrying the boxes in," Sam pressed.

Beth hummed a quiet tune as she slid a paper plate onto her brother's placemat just in time to catch a falling mushroom.

Hannah suppressed a sigh. He eats like a pig at a trough.

Josh glowered back at the blonde as she crunched an egg roll at a particularly high volume. "Samantha, that vegan egg roll of yours smells an awful lot like horse meat."

Sam winced as he said her much-loathed full name. "Like hell it does. Those anchovies smell like they were rinsed with the blood, sweat, and tears of the thousands of horses that are killed for—"

"Blah, blah, blah," Josh interrupted. He tore a fresh slice off of the pie, crust scraping cardboard as he thrust the piece of pizza from the box to right in her face. "Blood, sweat and tears are delicious! Nice n' salty."

"Shut it, you two!" Beth exclaimed, exasperation written in the creases on her forehead. "All I ask is for one day where my girlfriend and my brother get along. Is that really too much to hope for?"

Josh patted her on the back. "I'm afraid it is, lil' sis."

Sam stuck out her tongue at him. "Weren't you supposed to hang out with Chris tonight, anyways?"

"Yeah, but then Ashley asked him to a 'study' session, so he had to bail," Josh explained, forming quotation marks with his fingers for the word study.

Sam opened her mouth to reply, but that was when Hannah decided to make her entrance. She shuffled deeper into the kitchen, cringing at the coolness of the floor from the air conditioning.

Josh twisted around, his face brightening considerably as he adopted the voice of an elderly storyteller. "Ah, the fabled hermit emerges from her cave after a long two weeks."

Hannah strode over to the island and reached over Josh's nasty pizza to snag a slice of pepperoni. "Very funny, Josh." She took one bite, swallowed, then cut to the chase. "Soooo, Beth… that pizza guy looked nice."

"Nice?" Beth gnawed through her piece of Hawaiian indifferently. "I gue— Ohhhh. Hannah, you are not—!"

"Yes I am!" Hannah declared, clearing her throat. "I am totally pursuing that."

Sam frowned. "I doubt he's still here, hon. He probably drove away, like, ten minutes ago."

Hannah gulped. No, no. You're not gonna be a pushover. Stand up for yourself! Forget Mike. "I bet he's still standing at the front door. I mean, he had to have seen Dad's ridiculous plaque out front. If I were him I sure wouldn't be in a hurry to go. And besides," she added, raising a finger to intercept Beth's incoming objection, "I saw the way he was eyeing you. If he liked your face, then he's bound to like mine, right?"

Oh, great. By tacking on that one extra word at the end, her confident statement now became a question open for discussion. And this trio was surely up for a discussion.

Besides, even as the words left her mouth, Hannah doubted them. Despite technically being identical twins, she and Beth couldn't be or look any more different. They used to be indistinguishable, until Beth decided to chop off several inches of her hair and get bangs. She'd also ditched glasses in favor of contacts.

Hannah, meanwhile, still had long and wavy dark locks that fell past her chest. Her black-framed glasses screamed "hipster," yet in her opinion they were still better than sticking tiny wet pieces of plastic into her eyeballs.

"Hmm." Josh studied her briefly. "Maybe if you don't look like the hunchback of Notre Dame, then that would be a start." Hannah blinked at him, dumbfounded. "C'mon, perk up!"

She exhaled angrily and straightened.

Beth waved her hand in her direction, a crumpled-up napkin in her fist. "Shed the angora blanket."

Sam shuddered. "Poor rabbits…"

Josh tilted his head at her. "Hypocrite much, Sammy? That god-ugly hat of yours is definitely made of fur."

If looks could kill, Josh would be long gone. "Not real fur, dumbass," Sam retorted.

Hannah hesitated, then shrugged the soft brown fabric off her head and shoulders. She felt very exposed in a pair of mismatched neon socks, gray sweatpants, and a baggy hoodie that just about swallowed her whole.

"Wipe your mouth," Beth advised, tossing her a clean napkin. Hannah caught it and obeyed; when she moved the napkin away from her face it was covered in orange Cheeto dust. Her sister got up from her stool, circling around Hannah and examining her closely. "And, finally, lose this getup," she said while gesturing to the hoodie and sweatpants.

Hannah was about to reply when, inexplicably, the doorbell rang again. Once more, the deafening ding-dong-ding echoed through the house, dancing down empty hallways and reverberating in their ears.

"I'll get it!" Hannah blurted out before her thoughts could catch up.

She finished her slice of pizza mid-run as she slid through the foyer on socked feet, grabbing onto the doorknob to steady herself.

The door creaked open with a flourish, revealing that same handsome pizza guy who was still standing on the front step, just as Hannah predicted he would be.

Then she remembered that she was wearing the clothes of a 42-year-old housewife who had given up on life. Shit.

oOo

Matt chewed on the inside of his cheek, awestruck by the sight in front of him. A third pretty girl out of who knows how many had answered the door. Granted, she wasn't as tidy, for lack of a better word, as the previous two, but she was still quite the feast for his eyes.

Her brunette hair was straight and wavy at the same time, with a few curled strands falling into her face. Behind a pair of large glasses sat two chocolate brown orbs full of— well, what, exactly? It was indescribable, really. Curiosity, perhaps, with a dash of trepidation. And yes, even if the sweatpants and red hoodie emblazoned with the name of a college she was wearing left a little to be desired, it didn't matter to Matt.

She was staring back at him with what he hoped was the same calculated attraction. It took him several seconds to recall why he'd rang the doorbell again in the first place.

He let out a fake cough in a lame attempt to break the ice, then said, "Yeah… so, I uh… the total was actually, like, twice what I said it was."

"Oh." The girl looked surprised, disappointed, even. She reached up an arm to scratch behind her neck, and the sleeve of her baggy top drooped slightly. "I'll… get the money then. H- how much do you need?"

"Another twenty," he answered, holding up their receipt for proof.

She averted his gaze and nodded curtly, turning back into the house and disappearing into one of the rooms further down the warmly-lit corridor.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, absolutely clueless as to how he should make his next move. Girl #2 called Girl #1 "babe," so that implies they're together, right? Then Girl #3 might not be into guys either—

His calculations were disrupted by Girl #3, who reappeared with a crisp twenty in her hand. She held it out to him, and they locked eyes for a heartbeat or two. Just as he'd observed, her stare reflected his exactly: a deep coffee color. But hers twinkled through the lenses of her glasses, and it sent his mind reeling.

Gently, as if the bill were made of glass rather than paper (or was it cotton?), he slid the twenty dollars out of her hand. He took the time to notice her probably week-old manicure that was a bit chipped at the edges. It was French, he decided, noting the white tips on her nails.

"I like your French manicure." The compliment slipped off his tongue like a bar of soap out of wet hands.

"Oh," she repeated, blinking down at her hand like she'd never seen it before. "Thanks." A smirk played at the edges of her lips. "You're the first guy I've ever met who knows types of manicures."

Matt chuckled. "Haha, well, I have this girl friend— like, um, with a space between girl and friend— who practices nail designs on me before she does them on herself." Under his sneakers and socks, his toenails were still painted blue thanks to Jess. He'd been her manicure guinea pig for as long as he could remember.

Girl #3's eyebrows lifted. "Huh, really. And you don't mind your girl-space-friend during that?"

He shrugged. "Not at all. It was kind of annoying at first, but I got used to it." He grimaced. "Just as long as, y'know, none of my old football buddies from high school ever find out."

She giggled, the twinkle in her eyes becoming prominent during this. "Hey, um." She stuck her thumbs in the kangaroo pocket of her hoodie. "Could you give me, like, just a second? I'll be right back."

"Sure," Matt agreed.

She partially shut the door so that he could only see a strip of light from inside and then dashed off. He almost wished it was raining out so that she might've invited him in.

Girl #3 was quick, however. Only two minutes had passed by the time she returned to the front door, pushing it and the storm door aside this time so that she was now standing on the front stoop with him.

Clearly, she'd given her hair a quick run-through with a brush. A dusting of pink was applied onto her cheeks, and a fresh coat of mascara clung to her eyelashes. The hoodie was gone, replaced by a black camisole that showed off more of her lovely olive skin. His eyes were also drawn to the simple butterfly tattoo that was inked on her right shoulder.

"Wow," he breathed. "What—"

She shook her head mutely and shoved a small piece of paper into his hand.

"Wait," he begged as she began to retreat into the house. But she either didn't hear him or didn't listen, instead choosing to softly close the front door and leave him standing on the porch like an idiot.

Matt turned and began his hike down the smoothly-paved driveway, a defeated sigh whispering past his parted lips. The brand new twenty-dollar bill crumpled and folded in his fist. He almost failed to remember the slip of paper she'd given him.

He settled into Rusty, using the old vehicle's overhead light to read her note.

"Hannah," he read. Next to her name was a phone number. Excitement spread within him, fizzing in his fingertips as he held the paper and quickly plugged the numbers into his phone.

oOo

"What was that about?" Josh questioned, his eyes following Hannah as she slunk back into the kitchen. Sam and Beth had finished their food and disappeared off somewhere, probably to mess around. Josh was, shockingly, wiping off the placemats and countertop. Hannah dismissed her surprise, figuring that Beth had probably threatened him with his life if he didn't clean up after himself.

Hannah grabbed another rag and wet it under the faucet before slopping it onto one of the placemats. "Nothing," she replied nonchalantly.

"Nothing?" Josh snorted. "As if. You put makeup on and took off the hoodie you've been living in for the past two weeks. What's up?"

"The, uh, pizza guy needed more money. It was nothing," she told him, meeting her brother's mischievous green gaze from across the island firmly.

Josh crammed one of the pizza boxes into the fridge. One end of a breadstick hung out of his mouth like an oversized cigar. "Hannah…"

"Joshua…" she responded in the same sing-song voice.

He leaned against the fridge, drumming his fingers against the stainless steel patiently. "I'll stay up all night if I have to," he said stubbornly.

Hannah ignored him as she wrung out the rag over the sink.

"Hannah Banana," Josh murmured, inching closer to her. "Did you pretty yourself up for the pizza guy?"

She groaned. "Fine! Yes, Josh, yes I did pretty myself up for the pizza guy. And FYI, he was into me, too. So I gave him my number."

"What's his name?"

Hannah stiffened as the realization dawned on her.

"You don't know his name. Perfect. Well, just lemme know when he can schedule a meeting with me." At Hannah's scowl, he lifted his hands innocently. "Hey, someone's gotta approve my little sister's boyfriends if Dad's not here."

She scoffed. "Did you approve Sam for Beth?"

"Pffft. We've known Sammy for ten years, Han. I know she'll be good to Bethany."

Hannah couldn't argue with that. She nodded tiredly in agreement. "True that. Okay, well, I'm gonna go hit the hay."

"Night, Hannah Banana!"

She cringed. "Don't call me that!" she grumbled, though it was half-hearted.

It was hotter upstairs, so she changed into a pair of pajama shorts and slowly got ready for bed. She was about to take off her short-lived makeup job for the night when her phone buzzed.

Unknown number: Hey it's the pizza guy. can u please come to the door?

Hannah stared down at the text as she felt her heart skip a beat. She wondered what his name was.

Hannah: Be there in a sec

She tiptoed down the stairs and was relieved to see all of the lights off. Josh had probably retreated to the finished basement by now— even though he had a perfectly fine bedroom upstairs, he preferred to play video games downstairs until the crack of dawn.

Hannah glanced out the window next to the front door. Sam's car was still parked in the spacious driveway, which meant that she was spending the night, which meant that she and Beth were not to be disturbed under any circumstances. Any loud noise equaled Hannah's death.

Hannah opened the front door, cursing silently as it creaked. She swiveled around, squinting up the dark staircase, but no complaints were heard.

"Hey, Hannah." The pizza guy stood on the front porch, grinning amicably at her.

"Hey, pizza guy," she answered, returning the smile.

Ugh, he was so handsome. Hair disheveled from being under a Domino's cap for so long. Gleaming brown eyes. A smile that made her knees turn to Jell-O. She couldn't get enough of him.

"I was wondering, if, uh, you wanted to share a pizza with me? It's extra cheese."

It was then that she noticed he was holding another box. "So, that's where the fourth pizza went!" Hannah teased.

He chuckled sheepishly. "Ha, yeah. Pepperoni, Hawaiian, mushroom-n-anchovy, breadsticks. Guess I forgot this one."

"Well, I think I'll take you up on your offer," Hannah said.

Ten minutes later, they were laying on the soft grass in the gigantic front lawn. The grass tickled Hannah's bare arms and legs, but the annoying sensation didn't bother her as much as it usually did.

The box of extra cheese pizza was open in between them, already half gone. The moon looked like a magnified saucer of milk in the inky black sky, and there was a smattering of stars around it that speckled and shined like holiday lights. A cluster of thin cotton candy clouds drifted across the sky.

"So let me get this straight: that was your sister?"

Hannah giggled around a mouthful of mozzarella heaven before swallowing. "Yep, yep."

"Twin sister?"

"Yeah, that was Beth. She's the youngest, but she's probably the most mature one out of me, her, and our brother."

The pizza guy beamed as he finished off the crust of his slice. "And then who was the blonde girl?"

"Oh, that's Sam," Hannah said. "She's my best friend and Beth's girlfriend. And I know what you're gonna ask— is it awkward?" She waited for his nod before going on. "It was weird for me at first, but now I totally ship them. They're really meant for each other."

He sighed wistfully, his gaze floating up to the stars. "Yeah, sometimes it's so easy to tell when there's a real spark between two people."

Another twenty minutes went by. It was at least well past midnight by now, and the pizza guy was asking about her tattoo. Hannah rubbed her shoulder shyly, barely sparing the black butterfly a glance. "This thing? I, uh, I got it a few months ago. My ex thought it would be cute and… well, now it's not-so-cute since we broke up."

His brow furrowed. "I'm sorry—"

"No, don't apologize. He was kind of a jerk." Hannah closed her eyes, relishing as a warm breeze washed over her face and tousled her hair.

"Yeah, you never know. I dated these two girls one after the other, and they turned out to be best friends."

Hannah grimaced. "Yikes."

"But they were surprisingly cool about it. I'm good friends with both of them now," he added. "Hey, I- I know we just met tonight, but… maybe we could all hang out sometime. I could bring Emily and Jess to meet you and your siblings and Sam and—"

"Yeah." Hannah smiled. "That would be nice."

The pizza guy shifted upwards, propping himself up on his elbows. "I still can't believe you're the daughter of one of the best directors in Hollywood. I'd give anything to live in a house like yours and drop this stupid job."

Hannah felt her cheeks get warm, but she willed the blush away. "It's embarrassing, though. I mean, I try not to take all this for granted or act ungrateful, but… sometimes it just sucks. Our parents are never home, so we basically had to raise ourselves. Since Josh dropped out of college, Beth and I have to come by the house a lot to make sure he's okay." She paused, swallowing shakily. "He has… he's been… he's been struggling lately. He doesn't have the best relationship with our dad, and sometimes it's so hard to tell if he's really okay because he— he puts on this mask and acts all happy and fine when he's really not, and…" Hannah trailed off, not sure how else to explain.

The pizza guy was looking at her fondly, the corners of his lips turned down into a frown.

She exhaled slowly, wishing the fluttering in her stomach would stop. She felt her hands grab handfuls of grass as her eyes flitted over his gorgeous face. "Pizza guy?" she whispered, her voice almost lost on the breeze.

"Yeah?"

"Can I kiss you?"

He didn't reply, and for a few seconds she was afraid he would reject this. But then she heard the pizza box scrape against the ground as he pushed it aside. They leaned in at the same time and joined their lips together eagerly. It wasn't the neatest of kisses; teeth clicked and tongues slipped. Yet it was still wonderful all the same.

After some time, they broke apart, still peering at each other. Hannah was in disbelief, of course. She just kissed the pizza delivery guy, of all people. Could eating lukewarm pizza on the lawn even be considered a date?

"Are you ever gonna ask my name?" he murmured teasingly.

"Okay. What's your name?"

"Matt Taylor."

Hannah tipped her head to the side. "Hmm. I don't really see you as a Matt."

"Really?" He smirked. "What name better suits me, then?"

She rolled her eyes. "Pizza guy, of course!"

Matt hesitated, then his mouth formed another dazzling smile. "Yeeah. I like pizza guy better, too," he said before leaning in again.