Julio's POV
"Who was that girl at the door?" Devon asked me.
"Someone," I quickly replied.
He shot me a glare. Which probably meant that I didn't answer correctly.
"How'd she even get our address?" He asked.
"Devon," I sighed. Then took a look at the time. 7 in the morning on a Saturday. "It's 7, I didn't even have breakfast yet."
"Julio!" Devon snapped. "Just answer the damn question!"
"It's my business not yours..." I mumbled.
He pulled himself onto my bed, just at the edge. After about 2 minutes (yes I counted) of Devon controlling his breathing. He spoke,"Sorry."
"It's fine," I assured him. "There may be fights and all but we haven't really adapted to each other yet."
Devon hummed in response.
"Anyways, get off of my blanket so we can eat!" I announced.
-------
"I can't believe you used nearly a whole box of pancake mix," Devon said to me astonished.
"Look, it's not my fault I accidentally started tweeting." I rose my hands up in defense.
"What did the pancake ever do to you to deserve to be burnt?" Devon rhetorically questioned gesturing to the stack of 4 large burnt pancakes on the counter.
"They were being stubborn!" I countered.
"For what?" He exclaimed.
"They didn't want to be mixed!"
He sighed, defeated. "At least that you made decent ones."
"That is right!" I nodded and took the plate with the decent pancakes to the table.
It was a simple dinning table. Rounded at the corners and a dark oak. There were 4 matching chairs.
"Pass the syrup please," Devon said to me politely.
I slid the syrup across the table. "You're welcome, bae."
He grinned. "Thanks."
