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“Oh my God, it was killing me.”
He chuckles and pushes open the door to Bubble Trouble, Hawthorne Hollow’s boba tea and comic and manga shop, letting me exit first.
“So, your meeting…” I take a sip of my drink and frown up at him as we walk down the main street winding through downtown Hawthorne Harbor. “Bad?”
Adrik shakes his head. “Nah,” he rumbles in his growly, gravelly voice. “Just…annoying.”
“And do we have any idea who—”
“Oh, I know who dosed the absinthe.”
My eyes snap up to his again. “Wait, really?”
He nods.
“And?” I drag an invisible zipper across my lips. “Won’t tell a soul. Scout’s honor.”
He cocks a brow. “You were a girl scout?”
I snort. “Oh, fuck no. I went to one meeting and they kicked me out.”
Adrik chuckles a deep, rumbly laugh. “Why?”
“Oh…reasons.”
He smirks. “You tell me that and I’ll tell you who drugged our party.”
“Deal!” I take a deep breath. “Well, it wasn’t just one thing, but I think I got off on the wrong foot when they had us make signs for the older girls who were actually going to be selling the cookies. They just weren’t ready for my creative and aggressive marketing strategy.”
“Do I even want to know what the sign said?”
“Buy cookies or I’ll find you when you’re sleeping.”
A deep chuckle rumbles from Adrik’s chest.
“They also had a problem with the voodoo dolls I made during arts and crafts. Probably because one looked a lot like the troop leader, who was a total cunt to me. But I think the final straw was…how did they put it…misuse of campfire materials. Your turn. Who drugged the party?”
Adrik sighs heavily as he sips on his boba. I try not to giggle at the absurd visual of a man his size daintily slurping tapioca balls from a neon purple straw.
“Jude Nikolayev.”
My brows shoot up. “You’re sure?”
“Positive,” he says quietly.
“Well?!” I scowl. “When do we go ruin his world?”
Adrik shakes his head. “We don’t.”
“Um, why not?”
“Not getting enough violence in your extracurriculars to scratch that itch?”
I glare at him. Adrik doesn’t know-know what I am and do. But he’s also extremely perceptive, knows me better than most, and doesn’t miss much.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I shrug, taking a sip of my brown sugar oatmilk tea with black sesame tapioca pearls.
“Oh, I’m sure you don’t,” Adrik says with a hint of amusement. “Anyway, no, We’re not going to do anything about Jude.”
