“I'm taking the bed,” I announce after I’m done, forcing a grin and pouncing on the lumpy mattress. “Absolutely not,” he snaps, his head whipping toward me. “I am not sleeping on the floor,” I argue. He thins his eyes. “You think I will?” I cross my arms. “You're seriously not going to be a gentleman?” “That would imply there's a lady in the room, and all I see is a fucking leech.”
