At mention of not eating meat, Wolf gave Mao one of his patented 'eeewwww gross' faces, tongue sticking out and all. Meat was gross. It tasted acceptable sometimes if it was cooked to perfection, but the texture was unbearable. Even if something tasted good, if he couldn't stomach the texture there was no way he was getting it down without a fight. And Wolf didn't like to fight with his food.
Well, okay, maybe sometimes he did like to fight with food, but not on the way down his throat.
Boring, right, that sounded just like school was supposed to. Even graduating from the snooze fest that was high school hadn't saved Wolf from boring schoolwork, especially because he was only in his first year of an education major. Learning theory and rules and blah blah blah wasn't fun. He wanted to be in front of a class.
Wolf was reaching for the door of the coat closet when a sudden freezing cold assault hit his face. He yelled in surprise, but when he caught a glimpse of Mao's jovial expression before the other boy turned around, Wolf began to laugh. He also dropped Mao's coat on the floor in favor of dashing after him into the living room, lining up a direct path to the couch so he could tackle Mao right onto it.