“Oh,” Justin said, clapping his hands and peering into the salsa. “It looks like you literally just made that. Is it fresh or does it just look like it? Because if you bought it off the shelf like that, you have to tell me where you got it.”
“Yeah…sorry about that. I um, didn’t mean to be that long, but—”
“No, no, don’t you dare.” Justin snagged a chip and began to dig in. “I freaking lovefresh salsa. Thank you for doing it!”
Justin sat right at the end of the couch, while Tom chose the chair beside it instead, still close enough that they could brush knees, but also giving Thom enough room to breathe.