Maxwell Peary rubbed his forehead and uncomfortably changed his sitting posture.
"I want this cup."
He lifted his head; his gaze fell into Nia Mitchell's teary eyes, calm and collected on the surface, yet a storm was already surging in his heart.
"This cup is mine."
Nia Mitchell, inflamed and becoming unreasonable, snatched the coffee cup from Maxwell Peary's hand with lightning speed. She then lifted it to her lips, intending to gulp it down.
Humph! If she finished this coffee, let's see if he would still change it.
She never expected the coffee would ultimately end up in Maxwell Peary's mouth. The reason was that Nia Mitchell, after snatching the coffee, had only moments before complained it was too cold and demanded a freshly brewed cup.
She never expected the coffee to be so damn scalding hot. A fierce sip instantly numbed her tongue. She immediately spat out the coffee, sticking out her tongue and fanning it desperately.
"OOH, OOH, OOH, OOH, it's so hot, so hot!"
