"You think there's a reason why I stay at the counter all night talking to you while you bartend?" You ask me in desbelief. You were my roommate and I was making dinner in the kitchen. You must know, I like you, but only in a friendship. "Yeah. Or else you wouldn't have asked me when you were drunk 'Who's that girl and why is she winking at you?!' Everytime a girl flirted with me." I answer mocking you, before leaning against the kitchencounter.