between the lines//MGG

8

"Lizzy, can you help--"

"hold up. Lizzy?" I throw a hand up in the middle of his line. he drops his hands and gives me an unamused expression.

"I thought it would make it look more personal. really emphasize that they're close, you know?" he defends.

"eh. I don't think Spencer would talk like that unless he was feeling vulnerable." I shake my head. he's standing by the counter and I'm sitting sideways on the chair with two bags of grapes: one cotton candy, the other normal red. my legs hang over the arm.

"this is vulnerable!" he argues. those hazel eyes go wide at me, all angry. I glance down at the script I'm holding.

"not the right kind, though. I feel like he would only call her Lizzy if they were alone or if he was on the verge of a mental breakdown." I shrug.

"ugh, fine."

"listen, kid-- if you have a problem with the writing, talk to the writers. just don't go throwing around nicknames." I instruct with an air of mock authority.

"yeah? who are you calling 'kid'?" he challenges, but I can see that he's amused. "which one of us can't eat fruit unless it's cotton candy flavored?"

"hey!" I throw one at him, which he narrowly avoids. "I can eat regular fruit. this is just more fun. they taste so real!"

"watch it," he looks at me with a surprisingly stern expression as he bends to pick up the small orb. "dogs can't digest grapes. it could kill him."

I clap my hand over my mouth in shock. Matthew looks at me funny, like he feels guilty for scolding me.

"Louis!" I call out. he clambers out from the hallway and sits down in front of the chair as if waiting for a treat. I gently grab his face wrinkles and pull his nose close to mine. "I am so sorry for almost killing you, my sweet boy."

I give him a few apology pets and turn back to my coworker. Matthew just stares at me.

"I'll stop throwing grapes if you get your damn lines right, Mr. Eidetic Memory." I smirk, settling back down into my seat. I slide a regular grape into my mouth by accident and, upon realizing my grave error, spit it back out into my hand.

"that's fucking disgusting." he laughs at me. I stand up to throw away the grape and threaten to shove it in his face. he ducks away again. "I don't understand why you literally can't eat regular grapes."

"okay, I can eat 'real grapes,'" I do air-quotes before washing my hands. he sits down on the couch across from my previous seat and relaxes. "I just wasn't expecting it to taste like that. it's like if you were given a cookie with white frosting and then when you bit into it, the frosting turned out to be mayo."

"that's not a good analogy." he argues. I return to the living room and sit back in the chair, presiding over my two bags of grapes.

"why not." it's a statement more than a question. I glare at him.

"because mayo on cookies is disgusting regardless of what you were expecting. grapes are objectively delicious."

"you know what? I'll leave if you keep attacking me." I pretend to stand up and he gives me his "uh huh" look. I scowl. it's dark out and we still haven't eaten dinner. my stomach will be very audibly protesting if I'm not fed soon.

"I wanna make cookies." I say suddenly. 

"I'm sorry, what?"

"I'm really craving snickerdoodles." I'm musing. he gives me a confused look, but then a lightbulb goes off in his head.