Nico groans and yanks his comforter over his head when I open the blinds, reminding me of myself. “I made you pancakes.” I lift the comforter and tickle the bottoms of his feet. “Stop!” he hisses while kicking his feet out. “Not until you get out of bed.” He huffs and puffs as he rolls out of bed with a terrible case of bedhead and a scary frown. “For someone who is about to eat blueberry pancakes, you sure are grumpy.” His eyes narrow. “With whipped cream?” “Yes.” “And strawberries?” “You like those?” I feign ignorance. His head drops back with a groan. I steer him toward the door. “Of course
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