One perk of living in a place with zero security was that I didn’t have to go downstairs to get my food.
“A man’s gotta eat.”
“Give me back my apples.”
“No.”
“I fucking hate you.”
“Samesies.” I carried my dinner over to the small kitchen table and set it down.
“What is that?” he sniffed the air, a longing look on his face.
“Pad thai.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“And you’re a brat.”
“Am not!”
“You’ll get your damn apples when you give me back my hoodie.”
His face paled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really? You know nothing about how my favorite hoodie suddenly disappeared? You expect me to believe it got up and walked away?”
“Maybe you shouldn’t have left it on the table. It’s gross.”
“It’s a hoodie, not a pair of hiking boots.”
“It’s still full of your germs.”
“Woooow. Real awesome comeback there, Julian. Are you twelve?”
“Stop calling me Julian.” He was glaring daggers at me. “You know I hate it.”
“It’s your name, isn’t it?”
“Sure is, Asher.”
“You’re such a child sometimes.” I slid into a chair and pulled the container of pad thai out of the bag.
“Fine. You’ll give me back my apples if I give you your stupid hoodie?”
I picked up my chopsticks. “Sure thing.”
“You’re so annoying.”
“I’m not the hoodie thief.”
He stomped into his room, muttering under his breath.
I popped the container open and stirred the noodles with my chopsticks.
“Here.” He appeared next to me and threw the hoodie in question onto the table.
“I thought it was full of icky germs you didn’t want on the table?” I lifted one eyebrow at him and loaded up my chopsticks with some noodles.