Page 20 of Undisputed Chaos
I carried my coffee to the living room, curling up in the corner where I often painted when the light was good. My easel stood empty nearby, waiting for inspiration that felt miles away.
Usually, on Saturday mornings, I'd be setting up for a painting session I could film for my followers, something easy and accessible, like flowers, the kind of content that performed well.
Today, the thought of performing for anyone made my nose twist.
I sipped and watched a pigeon land on my balcony railing, gray feathers ruffling in the spring breeze. What would it be like to be that open? To act on instinct without second-guessing every choice?
Adrian had seemed that wild. There had been something untamed about him that operated on a frequency I'd never allowed myself to access. The way he'd moved, the way he'd looked at me, the way he'dkissed me—all of it had been honest in a way few things in my life ever were.
And I'd thrown it away because I was scared.
"Stupid," I muttered, pressing my forehead against the cool glass. "So stupid."
I thought about going back to the club tonight, hoping lightning might strike twice. But the idea was absurd. This was a big city, and Adrian was a famous boxer with his pick of venues. The chances of finding him again were slim to none.
Besides, what would I even say? "Sorry I ran away after kissing your face off. Want to try again?"
The pigeon flew away, leaving me alone. I closed my eyes, letting the memories wash over me again.
His mouth against my neck, his fingers wrapping around my throat, the way his body had felt pressed against mine, all hard muscle and barely contained energy.
I'd never wanted anyone the way I'd wanted him. And I'd run away like a coward.
It brought tears to my eyes now, hot and prickly. Not just for the loss of Adrian, though that stung sharply enough, but for what his appearance in my life had revealed: how desperately I'd been sleepwalking through my days, how hungry I was for something that couldn't be filtered, edited, or made palatable for a social media audience.
I wanted the mess, the burning honesty I'd tasted for those few minutes in his arms. I wanted to be the girl who stayed, who saw where that fire might lead, who wasn't afraid of her own desires.
But I hadn't been that girl. I'd been Isla Belleflower, pretty and predictable, running away at the first sign that life might actually get interesting.
My phone still sat on the kitchen counter, screen dark and waiting. I approached it warily, bracing for the flood of texts and notifications that would drag me back into the digital world.
There were fifteen texts from Bailey and Tracy, mostly variations of“ARE YOU ALIVE??" and "CALL US IMMEDIATELY!"
A missed call from my mother, a photo from Crew. Various notifications from social media, the usual morning harvest of likes and comments on recent posts.
I swiped through them absently, thumbs moving on autopilot, mind still half-lost in what might have been.
I opened an app, scrolling past stories and posts without really seeing them.
A selfie I'd posted last night before going out stared back at me, soft lighting, carefully styled hair, a simple caption about golden hour.
The comments were the usual mix of compliments and questions about my outfit, my makeup, my apartment. I scrolled through them mechanically, a habit born of years maintaining my online presence.
Then my thumb froze. My heart stuttered, then raced.
A verified account. A name that sent lightning shooting through my veins:
@AdrianCatalyst: Sunset looks better on you than anywhere else.
I blinked, certain I was hallucinating. But there it was, the timestamp showing it had been posted at 6:42 AM. Hours ago, while I'd been sleeping off regret and champagne.
My fingers trembled as I tapped his profile. The same wild smile, the same green eyes I'd dreamed about all night. The same tattooed hands that had held me.
I scrolled back to my feed in a daze. He'd commented on another post too, a painting I'd shared earlier this week, a moody cityscape in blues and golds.
@AdrianCatalyst: That shade of blue's my favorite. Reminds me of eyes I met last night.
My breath caught. The comments weren't obvious, nothing that would make a stranger look twice. But to me, they were a lightning strike, a code, a message meant just for me.
