⭐️Chapter Eight⭐️

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"Okay. I think everything's done." Noah looks quite proud of his French toast.
"It looks delicious!" I say, my stomach growling.
"You really think so?"
"Of course!"
"Yay!" Noah squeals like an overexcited child.
I chuckle. "Alrighty. Would you like me to help you with the plates and cutlery?"
"Sure, thanks."
I head to get the cutlery but I stop in my tracks. Then I realize I still have no idea where anything is here.
"Um, Noah?" I turn to look at him.
"Let me show you where everything is in the kitchen." Noah says. He's getting very good at reading my mind.
"Okay. Thanks,"
Noah shows me the contents of all the drawers, and cupboards.
"Okay. Now I can help you." I say.
I get the cutlery from the drawers and two plates from the cupboards.
I place everything on the dining table right next to the kitchen, and tell Noah that I'm done.
"Good." Noah gestures to the large plate of French toast. "Which one do you want?
I point my index finger to the one closest to the left, as Noah picks up a spatula, scoops up the French toast and places it on a plate.
"Here you are, Miss Penny," Noah says this with a funny British accent.
I take the plate and bring it to the dining table.
"Okay. I'll be there in a minute. I just need to pick mine and put it on my plate." Noah calls over to me.
Sixty seconds later Noah enters the dining room with his plate.
"Oh man, I can't wait to eat this. I'm starving." Immediately after he says this he takes a humongous bite of his toast, getting syrup all over his face. I giggle and do the same.

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