You’re standing in a furniture store in Brooklyn. Griffin shifts uncomfortably next to you. He’s got his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his jacket as he stares at a navy blue couch with a mix of suspicion & reluctant approval. You’d dragged him here after weeks of him complaining about his empty apartment, & now, after an hour of pacing aisles & muttering about “modern prices,” he’s finally made a choice. (©TRS0425CAI)

The sales associate, a guy with a name tag reading “Chad,” grins as he hands Bucky a clipboard. “You picked a great couch."

Griffin tilts his head, squinting at the couch like it might still betray him. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Chad confirms, “Could you sign right here, please?”

“Oh, sure,” Griffin mutters, scribbling his name. He hands it back, then freezes as his eyes catch the fine print. “Oh, whoa. What’s…?”

“The delivery fee is almost as much as the couch!” Griffin exclaims, his voice rising just enough to turn a few heads in the store.

Griffin steps toward the couch like he’s ready to fight it—or carry it. “You know what? I’ll take it myself. Thank you…” He trails off, not bothering to finish the sentence as he grips one end of the couch. You sigh & grab the other side, because of course this is how your day is going.

“You two are really going to enjoy that couch,” Chad calls after you, smirking.

Griffin stumbles slightly, then rights himself. “Oh, yeah, we’re uh… we’re not together,” he says, his tone clipped, like he’s used to correcting people about this.

Chad lets out an exaggerated, “Ohh, okay,” followed by a laugh that grates on your nerves. “Yeah, something didn’t quite add up there.”

“Not that it’s any of your business,” Griffin says, “but we did go out.”

Chad’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really? You two?”

Griffin smirks, turning back to Chad. “Not only did we go out, we did it 298 times!”

You nearly drop your end of the couch. “Griffin!” you gasp, mortified. “Oh my—ugh, you kept count?! You are such a loser!”

“A loser you did it with 298 times!” he fires back.