Jeffrey Foster looked at Isabelle Martin's bewildered expression and finally realized what he had just done. He suddenly dropped his head, "Where's my porridge?"
"Are you concerned about me?" Isabelle wasn't fooled and pressed further.
"No." Jeffrey denied it without even thinking.
Isabelle's terrible mood from the whole night brightened up. She knew he did care about her, but she also knew his personality. She placed the porridge on the table, "Eat up, Mr. Foster."
Jeffrey wasn't hungry, but eating was the only way to cover his embarrassment, so he picked up the spoon despite himself and then heard the stifled laughter from the girl beside him.
He looked up, "What's so funny?"
"Nothing, just a joke a friend told me." Isabelle answered casually.
Jeffrey sharply caught onto her mention of a "friend," lowered his head, took a couple of bites, and couldn't help but look up, "Zed?"
