"You good chica?" DeAndre asked, looking over towards you from the spot on the couch while he was still playing his game, turning down the TV so it wouldn't be to loud when you tried to answer him.

"You been real quiet, got me worried." DeAndre said, putting his controller down on the coffee table, turning around to look at you while you were doing your homework on the kitchen table.

You and DeAndre had been friends since third grade, all the way now to your first year of college; and he's been there for you along the whole way, from when your, in his opinion, wack boyfriend broke up with you, to now when you were struggling with calculus homework while he played Call of Duty.

"You hungry or somthin' ma?" He hummed, getting up from the couch with a stretch, walking over to the fridge and looking inside of it while scratching his hair.