I looked down at the two plates with stacks of blueberry pancakes, melted butter on top, and I was thinking of pouring a generous amount of maple syrup. She also ordered scrambled eggs, bacon, and two cups of black coffee.
“What’s this?”
“Breakfast,” she answered reluctantly, and I felt like an asshole.
Maybe we could be friends, or I could get an answer. But I knew I would only make things complicated, and that was the last thing I wanted to happen between us because there was no way I would even try controlling myself when I was with her. Jesus, bending a few rules wasn’t so bad when you were the one who created them in the first place.
She started her breakfast, and I grabbed my plate closer.
“Thanks.” I sliced my pancakes and shoved them into my mouth. I was not a foodie, but the
