“There’s a stand-up club not too far away,” Caleb suggested. “That kinda causes me the same issues I get with live music,” I replied. “Paintball?” “At night? In these jeans?” His brow creased and I could tell he hated that idea. “Never mind. Shall we just go drinking instead? And maybe I can find a burrito truck on the way?” “You’ll eat food prepared in a van but not delicacies made in a five-star restaurant?” Caleb asked with a smirk. “Well, we aren’t all pretentious assholes,” I teased. “And most of the best foods are prepared in vans.”
