Who Doesn't Like Sandwiches?

Patricia's POV

I didn't stop him when we arrived at my gate. Hell, I didn't even stop him when he followed me all the way up the elevator, into my house. It was his second time here. The first time was when I put it together, now, it was completely finished and he looked surprised.

"Your place is beautiful. You've got any food? I'm hungry."

He removed his shoes and walked into my kitchen like he owned the place. I stood, stunned, watching him ransack the fridge. I really had no idea what was in there and I couldn't care less.

"What the hell are you even doing?" 

I asked, then I watched him stop, then he turned around to face me. My arms were folded and it felt like a staring competition for a second, even though I couldn't make anything out of his stare.

"What?" I asked again, the weight of his stare becoming uncomfortable.