Stuffed Over the Limit

Chapter 7: Whiskey Dick

When we arrived at his house, it was about the size I had imagined. No upstairs, in a calm looking neighborhood. It only took us about 6 minutes, very convenient if you're obsessed with McDonald's...
"Okay, I'll unlock it and set everything down. Just follow me, don't do anything. I don't want you to be working..." he said and smirked. What does he mean by not wanting me working? Is he just trying to do things for me because I'm a lady? Is he really that cliche? Oh well, I don't mind, haha...

    I followed him inside and his house instantly smelled like fresh fruit for some reason. It smelled SOO good, but it didn't make me any hungrier. He sat everything down on the table and then grabbed paper plates for the both of us and sat them down on his dining table, only fitting for 2 people. He has a pretty small house with 2 bedrooms, a bathroom and a laundry room. Coolio...

    "Why is all the food for me?" I asked sheepishly.
"Because, sweetheart. You're my partner now. And plus, you're all bone" he said smirking. He sounded like a pedophile but he didn't look or act like one.
"Umm... ok? Like, gainers?" I said. Shit why'd I ask that?!
"Mhmm..." He said, sitting down. I cleared my throat nervously.
"So why'd you get a plate if you're n-not eating?" I asked, god I'm so nervous and worried.
"I was gonna make myself some pizza. If you want some, that's cool too I guess" he said, getting up and getting pizza out of his fridge. Wait, so he wasn't planning on Olive Garden at all? Or eating with me? God that sounds weird... What a whiskey dick... Yeah, he literally just grabbed 2 bottles of whiskey.
He gave me a glass and poured some into it as he poured some into his already sitting on the table.

    What the actual hell is going on? Y'know, I don't know nor care. I want to eat before the food gets cold, not that I'd mind that anyway...