Zephyr

Sex always managed to stir up a massive appetite, so I headed straight downstairs in search of actual nourishment once the door clicked shut behind Sable.

I was genuinely relieved to find there was still a decent amount of leftover rice and fried chicken sitting in the fridge courtesy of Zach.

Zach was our resident culinary master, mostly because the rest of us couldn't boil a pot of water without burning the kitchen to the ground.

He grew up in Texas with a single mom who had practically taught him how to handle a skillet while he was still wearing diapers.

I pulled the plate out and settled myself...