Patricia
I open the fridge to take out some milk while my bread is in the toaster. Light is dancing in through the window, and Finn is happily eating a burnt toasted sandwich. It was his first attempt using the toaster, and he insisted he didn't need to try making another one. The bread turned black, but his eyes glittered with happiness the moment he realized he had 'cooked' his first meal.
I observe Finn from the kitchen counter in secret. My heart might belong to a particular alpha, but that doesn't mean that I'm blind—Finn is cute. He is way bigger and taller than the type I usually ogle at the bar, but then again, so is Dior.
"This is so tasty!" Finn licks his fingers before turning to face me, wide-eyed and on the prowl for more toast. I honestly don't understand where the food is
