Startled by the authoritative tone, Ivy Green stilled immediately, lying beside Kate Stone like an obedient puppy, her gaze drifting to Kate's smooth, pale neck, the thought of licking it flashing through her mind.
Ivy shivered at her own strange impulse, mentally reprimanding herself, Kate treating you like a dog is already enough—why would you want to act like one? She recalled watching a cartoon as a child, in which a little dog happily lapped up milk from a bowl. She had once begged her brother to pour her a plate of milk on the carpet, so she could mimic that puppy.
So embarrassing. She winced, remembering how David had looked at her strangely for days afterward, probably assuming his sister had lost her mind.
"Behave," Kate murmured sleepily. Ivy's head had been shifting against Kate's neck, her hair tickling her skin. Kate's tone softened, mistaking Ivy for the family pet.
"I'm not a dog," Ivy mumbled, sulking.
Drowsily, Kate reached out and patted Ivy's head, her tone gentle, "Alright, no need to be harsh."
Ivy's mouth dropped open in surprise, her jaw almost slack enough to fit an egg. Is this really Kate? The same Kate who makes gossip reporters retreat with one look? She suddenly envied Kate's dog—being petted like this every morning must be the height of happiness.
She looked longingly at Kate's slender neck, still as enticing as a dog bone, and her tongue involuntarily darted out, but she only managed to lick her own lips. If I were her dog, I could nuzzle her all I wanted, she mused.
Kate's eyes fluttered open, taking in Ivy's wide, hungry gaze fixed on her neck, Ivy's hands curled into fists on her shoulder.
"…"
Startled at Kate's wakefulness, Ivy pulled her hands back, offering a sheepish explanation, "You told me not to move, so I didn't. You must've mistaken me for a dog last night and pulled me into your bed, but don't worry, I won't hold it against you."
Having seen Ivy kick aside her pillow and blanket to burrow under her own covers, Kate could only respond with silence.
Ivy sat up, kneeling to rub Kate's arm. "You must be numb from lying in the same position all night. You should move around a bit while sleeping—it's good for circulation!"
Kate's expression mixed confusion and surprise as if her brain couldn't quite process what it was hearing. In academic terms, one might call this "the guilty accusing the innocent."
When the two of them came downstairs, Sophia Snow and Annie Lin were on their way to the kitchen.
"You two are up early!" Annie greeted them first. "We were just about to make breakfast."
Ivy replied, "Perfect, let me help out—it'd feel rude to just sit around and wait to eat."
Back home, she never had this sense of duty. Reflecting on it, she realized her laziness must stem from her brother's doting concern, as he worried about her overexerting herself if she carried so much as a water bottle.
Annie raised an eyebrow. "You cook?"
"Not really," Ivy admitted.
"Great," Annie teased. "Sophia in the kitchen is already a disaster waiting to happen, so it's better if I do it myself."
Sophia rolled her eyes, "What do you mean? Didn't I wash all the vegetables yesterday?"
"Washed? You just rinsed them; I had to wash them properly after you were done."
Seeing the brewing argument, Ivy jumped in to play peacemaker. "Come on, let's not argue! Annie's cooking is delicious, and Sophia's plating is so creative—you two are a perfect match!"
Annie laughed. "Sweet as ever, unlike some people."
Sophia smiled with mock pride, "Well, I do have an eye for aesthetics, and Ivy has the excellent taste to recognize it. Thank you."
"But…" she added, "no need to call us a perfect match. I'd rather be a lone star than be matched with her."
Annie gave Sophia a glare.
Sensing the tension rising again, Ivy quickly said, "Anyone lucky enough to eat Annie's cooking every day would be ecstatic!"
Kate walked over, "I'll make breakfast today."
Their earlier squabbles forgotten, Sophia and Annie were speechless for a moment.
Sophia, looking as though she'd just won the lottery, beamed, "Are you serious? I get to eat breakfast made by Kate herself?" Her excitement resembled that of an adoring fan more than a seasoned celebrity.
Annie looked surprised, "Miss Stone, you can cook?" She recalled reading in an interview that Kate didn't know how to cook. Had she remembered wrong, or was it a fabrication?
"No, I can't," Kate replied simply.
Annie: "…." There was a certain charm in her confident nonchalance.
"Well, I could be your assistant," Annie offered.
Kate replied, "Thank you, but it won't be necessary."
Quietly, Annie rolled down the sleeves she had just pushed up.
Seeing Annie's offer declined, Sophia knew she had no chance either. She knew her limits—it was one thing to annoy Annie, but Kate was on a different level.
Ivy, glancing at Kate with pleading eyes, asked, "Maybe I could help? I wouldn't want you to do it all alone."
Kate paused before saying, "Alright."
Annie: "…." There was a distinct feeling of double standards here. More alarming, however, was the thought of two kitchen novices cooking. Could the results even be edible?
Sophia tugged on Annie's hood, pulling her toward the dining table. "Quit being a third wheel—you're in the way."
Annie felt the tug tighten around her neck, nearly choking her, so she was forced to follow Sophia to the table. Once released, she retaliated with a playful kick, completely forgetting they were still on camera.
Meanwhile, Ivy, watching the commotion, didn't notice Kate had stopped walking until she bumped into her back.
"Ouch!" Ivy exclaimed, her eyes still glued to the squabble at the table.
Kate turned, glancing from the scene to Ivy, then asked, "Why do you call them 'sisters'?"
In other words: Why call them sisters, but address me as 'Miss Stone'?