Doren
All Doren could do was watch in horror as August dredged his pancake through the lake of syrup his plate had become. When he caught Doren watching, he paused, fork mid-air, the syrup actually streaming off the oversized piece of soaked dough. “What?”
“Oh, nothing really,” Doren answered with a grimace. “I just thought maybe you’d like a little pancake to go with your syrup.”
“Nah,” August said, popping pancake into his mouth and swiping his lips with his tongue in an obvious, albeit nauseating tease. “I’m good, thanks.”
Curtis gave them both a look of exaggerated impatience. “All right, you two, get a room.”
Cooper dropped back into his chair with an irritated huff. “Forty-six bucks for pancakes? I mean, really? And how come I always get stuck with the bill? Why don’t you get Mr
