“I’d hardly call a ham and cheese toastie cooking for you,” Johnny shot back with a wolfish grin. “Well, no one ever cooks for me, so I appreciate it,” I told him, still hovering in the doorway. “I do most of the cooking at home.” “Yeah?” He sounded surprised. “Why’s that?” “Because I’m the only girl,” I mumbled. “And most of the housework falls on my shoulders.” “So?” Johnny replied, still with his back to me. “Having a vagina doesn’t automatically tie you to a cooker—or a fucking hoover.”
Ugh i love johnny
