Chicken Quesadillas and Wipped Cream

Zoey's POV

"I can't believe that you're making me do this," Xavier grumbles, pushing an empty cart as we walk down the frozen foods aisle.

We are currently walking around an empty mini mart about a mile or two from the mansion, which is, miraculously, still open at this hour.

"You know I won that bet fair and square." I stick out my tongue childishly at him. I grab a pack of frankfurters and bologna, placing them in the trolley. "Now what do you want to eat?"

"You," he answers boldly as his eyes hungrily rake my body.

We lock each other's gazes, both of us communicating in ways that basic, sputtering words failed to do.

"Guys, make this quick. I'm locking up in twenty!"

I turn around to the man who had yelled from behind the cash register. He eyes us for a moment before they skim the old newspaper he has gripped in his hands.

"Sure." I look briefly over at the scrawny man before I cast my eyes back at my soon-to-be husband. "Seriously, what do you want?"

"Uh," the man s