Page 140 of Undisputed Chaos
I groaned, pressing my face deeper into the fluffy pillow as my head pounded with the relentless rhythm of a jackhammer.
Every breath felt thick, every movement sent fresh waves of nausea rolling through my stomach.
Yikes, how much did I drink last night?
The chocolate martinis had tasted like heaven going down, but now they felt like liquid regret coursing through my veins.
My mouth felt dry, and the white ribbon around my throat felt tighter than usual, making me hyperaware of every swallow.
I forced my eyes open, squinting against the golden light flooding the bedroom.
Adrian was gone—had been since before dawn, judging by the cold spot beside me on the bed where I'd apparently passed out.
He’d dressed me in a shirt smelling like him, clean and oversized.
I looked around, dazed and lazy, until I spotted it.
Sitting on the nightstand, condensation beading down its sides, was a large plastic cup filled with what looked like iced coffee.
Except there were dark, spherical balls floating at the bottom, and a thick straw poked through the domed lid.
My jaw dropped. Boba?
The cup was cold against my palm, and when I brought it closer, I read the label: Brown sugar boba with oatmilk.
Ordered at—I squinted at the timestamp on the label—eight-thirty in the morning.
How did Adrian manage to get boba at that hour? And why boba for breakfast?
I took a sip and realized exactly why boba for breakfast was apparently a thing.
The sweet, creamy liquid coated my raw throat like a blanket, exactly what I needed. The brown sugar provided just enough sweetness to settle my churning stomach.
Leave it to Adrian to somehow procure the perfect hangover cure before most of the city was even awake. The man was either psychic or had some interesting connections.
I curled back into the sheets, sipping the boba and letting the midday light gradually lose its stabbing quality.
The piranha tank bubbled peacefully from the living room, its occupants probably swimming lazy circles that were oddly soothing to watch.
My headache began to recede to a manageable throb, and for the first time since opening my eyes, I didn't feel like I was dying.
I vaguely recalled Adrian mentioning something about cryotherapy in the car yesterday—before I apparently ended up drunk and satisfied.
Another hour passed, and the boba had worked its magic.
I’d showered and dressed, but the space felt enormous without Adrian’s overwhelming presence. It was all echoing spaces and shadows that made me feel simultaneously free and lonely.
The piranha tank gurgled again, and I got up to greet them.
“Hi, guys," I greeted, tapping the glass lightly. "Don't worry, I won't tell Adrian you're actually kind of cute."
I turned then, eyeing his kitchen.
Let’s see what Adrian…
Holy shit.
Adrian…what?I’d never heard his last name before. He’d never told me his last name, and I’d never heard or seen it posted anywhere.
