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Things just keep on getting more and more interesting.
I didn’t plan on this level of texture. Every time I think I’ve mapped the edges, Adrian adds another variable.
Take yesterday, for instance, when my stray waltzed into Phantom fucking Productions like he owns the goddam place. Adrian landed himself an interview with my employer. What are the fucking chances of that? It’s laughable when you think about it, really.
It only took a moment to line it all up. Phantom had been circling for a new photographer for weeks. I’d heard the complaints through the grapevine and even from Selene herself. After scaring the previous one off, she wanted someone who could handle atmosphere without fucking flinching.
It just had to be Adrian.
The irony is almost indulgent. Of all the people in this city. Of all the candidates. He walks straight into the orbit of the one system I already belong to. Not because he’s hunting for it, but because it’s hunting for him.
I followed him when he left.
Not closely. Just enough to satisfy the question that had lodged itself in my mind. Halfway home, his control cracked. He pulled over to the side of the road, flying off his bike. I witnessed a full-blown panic attack, so I can only imagine what they said to him. Selene sure as fuck knows about his past, that’s for sure.
When his panic attack passed, he straightened, started the engine, and left as if it had never happened.
That was when I stopped following him, though.
Not because I was done. Fuck no, but because World Ender had a vet appointment and priorities are still priorities.
And now Lucas walks into my gym. Beat-up face with poorly disguised resentment, to himself. And all I have to do is watch Adrian’s reaction to know exactly what happened, but one question remains… how did this guy end up under the wrath of his fists?
Either way, it makes the end sweeter knowing how many threads are already wrapped around him.
“Ah-h, there you are. I’ve been looking for you. I wanted to apologize—” His words fall short, eyes flicking between Adrian and me. He’s probably noticing how red my little stray’s ears are; they are practically glowing.
“Oh, shit, sorry. Are you in the middle of something?” he continues.
“Lucas, what the hell are you doing here?” Adrian’s voice comes out harsher than I know he intends, the words sharp and callused all at once. His friend moves closer, almost losing his footing as he grabs onto Marco’s arm to steady himself. This fucker clearly has a death wish.
“I-I want to say I’m sorry for what I did... for sending your portfolio, for adding the part about your childhood—”
“Lucas,” Adrian cut him off, voice low and eyes flicking between Marcos and me. Ah, of course, he obviously doesn’t know I am well aware and acquainted with his past.
Lucas keeps talking anyway, voice cracking, “It was wrong, and I know that, and when you told me your own father held a knife to your throat I—”
“Shut up,” Adrian hisses. “Are you fucking drunk?”
Hm, this guy has his perks; spewing all of Adrian’s dirty laundry out in the open isn’t a bad thing… for me. All I’m left doing is aligning the puzzle pieces.
Lucas stumbles closer, and the answer hits us before he can give one. The smell of liquor is unmistakable, sour and heavy between us. His eyes are glassy, paired with movements loose and unstable. He’s a damn mess.
“Jesus,” Adrian mutters under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. He ducks under the ropes and exits the ring. I lean forward, placing my arms on the ropes. Marcos now steps forward, ready to intervene.
“Is there a problem?” he asks, tone even but firm, crossing his arms over his chest. Lucas works his jaw, swallowing hard, nervous—as he should be—before eventually opening his mouth. “Who a-asked you, tough guy?”
Marcos cocks a brow, tilting his head with a look slapped on his features I've seen one too many times. But before any moves can be made, Adrian steps between them, eyes still locked onto Lucas before saying, “Give me your keys. I’m taking you home, and you’re not driving in this state.
Chapter 11
Adrian
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” I huff, finally breaking the silence. “How did you even know where to find me? We haven’t spoken at all since... well, since last night.” I grip the steering wheel hard enough that my knuckles pale.
Lucas stirs in the passenger seat, head leaning against the window. “Amani told me,” he mumbles, words slurred but clear enough to make me grit my teeth.
Like I even had to ask.
