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"Do you want burgers or hot dogs?" I peeked my head around the corner of the kitchen wall, looking at Ayden.

He ignored me, listening to the music from his stereo.

I scoffed and shook my head. "Fine, hot dogs then." I pulled myself back in and threw some hot dogs in the pot. I put it on medium and poured water, just enough to cover the dogs.

I lifted my eyebrows as an idea popped into my head. I grabbed my side and cried out, acting as if I was in pain. I slid to the ground and made some pained noises. I peeked to see if he was right there but he wasn't. I narrowed my eyes at nothing and cried out louder.

Ayden came to the kitchen and stared down at my soul laying on the floor. "Get up. You're faking it." He tapped the bottom of my foot with the toe of his boot.

"No... It really hurts." I groaned.

He bent down. "Really?" He poked my side, underneath my hand. "Does that hurt?"

I nodded.

"Angel, you are a bigger liar than I am." He stood up.

I frowned and sighed, standing back up. "Fine, I was faking it but only because you won't talk to me!" I waved my finger in his face.

He crossed his arms. "Yeah, exactly." He left the kitchen and went back to the couch.

I glared at the spot where I last saw him in the kitchen, getting irritated by the silence. He made me so mad. I finished the hot dogs and left the kitchen. If he wasn't going to talk to me, then I wouldn't talk to him. He could take care of himself.

I grabbed one of his sweaters, putting it on to hide my wings. He looked at me and cleared his throat, confusion emerging. "Where are you going?"

"Oh, you want to talk to me now?" I turned toward him. "Yeah, that isn't going to happen. You seem to be fine by yourself, so I want to say I'm going out."

"Not with my sweater." He stood up, pointing to his sweater that kept my wings hidden and my torso warm.

"Why not?" I crossed my arms, standing my ground.

He chuckled. "Because it's mine. Stealing is wrong, love."

"It's called borrowing. I at least plan on bringing it back."

"Actually, borrowing would require permission, which I did not give," he argued in opposition.

"Fine, you can have your stupid sweater." I started removing it but he stopped me.

"No, you can leave it on. It looks better on you." He chuckled, watching me struggle with his sweater.

"For heaven's sake, make up your mind!" I pulled it back down over me in a rough manner.

"I have made up my mind. You get to wear my sweater if I get something in return." He smiled mischievously.

"Oh... Oh no, I'm not going to kiss you. I told you no." I shook my head, taking the sweater back off.

He rolled his eyes, clearly annoyed by my stubbornness. He was just as stubborn. "You've already worn my sweater and that deserves me at least one peck."

"You deserve nothing!" I threw the sweater at him. "You deserve..." I didn't continue my sentence, because I wasn't going to go down that road over an argument about a kiss.

"I deserve what?" He tempted me to say it.

"You deserve..." I didn't want to say it. I couldn't say it, because I didn't mean it. It was only something I thought about out of spite.

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