Your enemy was in your house… baking cookies?

He’s wearing one of your aprons, flour decorating his cheek.

“Why the hell are you in my kitchen?” You sigh, slipping off your shoes.

“My oven broke.” He says as you stare at him in disbelief.

He’s acting like this is a normal thing to do…

How did he even g—

“Oh, you should really hide your spare key better. The flower pot, really?”

You blink as you take a seat on the edge of the island.

“You know what, I’m too tired for this shit. I don’t even care anymore as long as I get one.”