Chapter 8
The visitor was Hudson.
I did not see the whole exchange.
But I heard enough.
Enough to hear the edge in Hudson’s voice when he noticed a pair of women’s sneakers at the entrance.
Enough to hear the coldness in Adrian’s when he answered.
Enough to hear Hudson say something ugly about “random women,” and Adrian snap back with a fury so sharp it barely sounded like the same person.
Enough to know there was history there I did not understand.
When Adrian came back upstairs, he looked shaken all over again.
I did not ask what had happened.
I just held him until the tremor in his breathing eased.
Later, because there was no housekeeper and no dinner, Adrian rolled up his sleeves and announced he would cook.
I requested spicy hot pot on purpose just to see what he would do.
He stared at me for exactly three seconds, then pulled me over to watch tutorial videos with him like this was a military assignment.
The ingredients arrived.
He followed the recipe with absurd precision.
When the food hit the table, it was somehow perfect.
He, unfortunately, could not handle spice.
By the second bite his eyes were watery.
I laughed so hard I nearly inhaled a pepper flake.
Across from me, he watched while I ate like a disaster survivor and then, very suddenly, asked, “Do you hate thieves?”
I took a giant swallow of soda.
“Of course. When I was little, someone stole my bike from our apartment stairwell. I was furious. If I’d caught them, I would have torn them apart.”
I said it casually.
Thoughtlessly.
Still chewing.
Only after a few seconds did I notice Adrian’s face.
He looked stricken.
Almost devastated.
At the time, I had no idea why.
A few days later, the answer came looking for me in the form of my roommate Mia.
Hudson stopped her outside the east gate.
I was not there.
Which was probably the only reason the conversation lasted more than ten seconds.
“Taotao?” he said, using the old ridiculous screen name I had once used online.
Mia stared at him blankly.
Hudson repeated his own fake name, then, out of sheer desperation, blurted mine.
Then he mentioned Mia’s own old username.
That got her attention.
And then, in the middle of his smug little explanation, Mia said something that made his face freeze solid.
“What do you mean, your girlfriend?” she asked. “Chloe’s been dating that quiet Quinn guy this whole time.”
By the time Mia dragged him to me, his expression was no longer smug.
It was shattered.
Like something he had thought was safely buried had kicked its way to the surface.