“I think the potatoes are done, you’ve been mashing them for the last 20 minutes. Why don’t you go tell the guys to have a seat at the table?” my mom says, interrupting my daydreaming.

Dean is all I could think about since he walked into the kitchen and now I’m going to have to walk out there and talk to him. Why didn’t we just have a dinner bell I could ring or couldn’t my mom just yell ‘Come and get it!’