Chapter 8Ciar watched as Romeo ate two fried eggs. Maybe they were better that way. He hadn’t eaten eggs many times in his life, and when he had, he’d eaten them raw. They smelled pretty good when Romeo did them.
Humbert had run off home now when the reading had been delayed, but Ciar stayed since he believed Romeo wanted to talk to him about adult stuff. He had no idea what adult stuff was, but he waited. Panthers were good at waiting, and he’d waited while Romeo had cooked, had waited while he ate, and now he was waiting while he was fidgeting. He was drumming his fingers, tugging his hair, stretching his shirt.
“Oh, fuck.” He rested his elbows on the table and cradled his head.
“Is it the adult stuff?”
Romeo’s head flew up and his eyes grew wide when he stared at Ciar. “Adult stuff?
