"When was I a dick?" he asked, raising his eyebrows and plopping himself onto the couch in front of her. "All I said was let's start so I can be home for dinner. My mom is cooking tonight. I enjoy her cooking." And he was hungry. Really fucking hungry. Even though he'd brought snacks, which he was most definitely going to be cracking open in a few minutes, nothing compared to Liz Spinelli's cooking. Nothing at all.
"Why are you on the floor?" He eyed her suspiciously before leaning back against the cushions. What were they even supposed to be doing?