COLE'S HOUSE
Cole was in his kitchen, humming softly to himself as the smell of frying bacon filled the air. The sizzling pan in front of him was his attempt at a peaceful morning.
That peace, however, was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. He paused, wiping his hands on a towel, and frowned slightly. It was early—too early for visitors. He made his way to the door, his brow furrowed in mild annoyance.
When he opened it, he was greeted by the sight of Elizabeth, standing casually on his porch with that confident smirk he had come to associate with her.
“Elizabeth,” he said, stepping aside to let her in. He wasn’t one for formalities, nor did he waste time asking why she was there. She rarely gave straightforward answers anyway. And he'd come to realize that she loved messing w
