12. Hugs, Chocolate and Fun.

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james to the side.

"She needs a wild heart, I got a wild heart." -the Vamps 

Nico B. Forrest

I never knew I could fall in love with pancakes.

The pancakes from this diner were so good; I thought I could marry them. They melted in my mouth and made my hunger scale party and thank me infinitely. The maple syrup on them was delicious, Canadians did something right for once

“Yo? Don’t choke on the pancakes,” said Joel, sipping on a cup of coffee.

James nodded in agreement, while Zoey was too busy savoring the taste of the food. She looked like she was in another universe. Her hair had somehow slipped out of her high ponytail, hiding her face.

“They are freaking amazing,” I exclaimed, feeling happiness.

Ah, the wonders of food.

Reaching for the syrup bottle, another hand clasped itself on it. I looked up at Zoey, who had a fire in her eyes, almost like a tiger watching its prey. There wasn’t a lot of syrup left in the bottle, only enough for one.

I tugged on the bottle. “Let go, Hunter.”

“Let go, Forrest. The syrup’s mine.”

“I’m a guest in your country.”

“You weren’t invited here. This is my home. Give me the bottle.”

I held on the bottle harder, if that was bottle. “No. I want the syrup.”

“So do I.”

James nodded towards Zoey. “Z, just give it to him.”

“No, I’m starving. I want the syrup.”

“Okay, then Nico? Give her the syrup, man.”

I scoffed. “No. I want—” I pulled the bottle towards me. “The bottle.”

She tried to grasp it out of my hands but I had a grip of steel on it. The pressure we put on it was so hard that the syrup sprouted out and all over Zoey. I wanted to laugh at her expression. Her hair was now sticky with the last amount of syrup there was.

“Nicolas,” she growled, touching her hair. “You are dead.”

“Woah, woah! You’re the one wearing the syrup that was supposed to be on my pancakes!”

She grabbed the chocolate syrup and held it towards me like a weapon.

“Zoey,” warned James and Joel at the same time.

I started to slide away from my seat, my hands up in surrender. She was terrifying at this point. If looks could provide actions, I would have been underground with a tomb stone reading: Nicolas B. Forrest, death by savage Canadian.

Even if I was dead, my middle name would never be revealed. It was one thing that I was most ashamed of. Yes, my mom was the one who had chosen it, but it was a feature that I’d never ever say to anyone. Hopefully, my dad would keep shut about it as well.

Mum preferred to give me a middle name related to my last name, to make a joke out of it.

“Zoey? Hunter? Zorro? Stay calm,” I said. “Breathe, yeah? Just stay calm.”

She looked murderous. “Do not tell me to be calm, because that’ll make me even madder.”

“Well, how do I take the syrup threat away from my head?”

Her eyes flickered to something and she half-smiled. “Get me a napkin.”

“But there are some on the table?”

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