CHAPTER THIRTY SIX MR. NICE GUY

JADE’S POV "You cook?" I ask him, stepping into the kitchen and sitting on a stool before the counter. "Why do you seem so surprised?" He asks, putting oil in a pan, and I watch how his muscular arm flexes with each movement before I respond. "You didn't seem like the type," I admit, and he snorts lightly, carrying on with what he's doing. I watch him in amazement because he's too organized to be considered normal. "And what would you classify as the type exactly?" He returns, increasing the flame's heat, and I think before going with "not you.". "Wonderful," he mutters, occupied with what he's doing, and I clap in excitement when he flips the pancake in the pan. He eyes me for a second before continuing with what he's doing, and I slowly retract, understanding too late that I must be distracting him. "Where do you think you're going?" he asks, and I turn to watch him. "Upstairs," I reply meekly, but he just sighs and drops a plate containing three pancakes with syrup, eggs, baco