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I was a mess. I felt a mess. I didn’t even have the time to do my hair. It was the first freaking day of the conference. I couldn’t believe it. Perhaps I could wet it and run my fingers through it. We still had till ten a.m. However, with him, I couldn’t quite really leave his side. I had to be on top of things and think of these trivial matters on his behalf.
I had no choice, no other way, so I grabbed my shoes, sprinted down the hallway, and put them on in the elevator. Neurotic, I almost crashed into some people who were nice enough to understand. I was almost taken aback. The elevator doors binged open, and I headed out toward the breakfast area.
I prayed he wouldn’t be there so I would be able to look human. However, when I got in, I quickly looked for the farthest corner with a view and found him already raising a cup of coffee to his lips.
He… looked wonderful.
I looked like a train wreck, most certainly, but not him. He looked rested and invigorated with not even a single hair out of place, and I couldn’t understand it. How was this the case? Hadn’t we got out together the previous night?”
He lifted his hand then to check his watch, and my heart jumped. I was at least three minutes late; that wasn't small by any means. He would notice; he would complain, and I would feel even worse. But I had no choice but to walk forward.
“Good morning, Sir,” I greeted.
I gave him a brief smile, pushed my hair out of my face, set my briefcase on the floor beside me, and then mustered up the courage to look him in the eye.
He seemed casual enough, and to my surprise, he didn't mention the fact that I was late. It wasn’t as though he had the very few times I had been in the past, but he had never failed to make me understand that he was deeply displeased. I had put close attention into reading him and understanding him, so it wasn't strange to me that I could very clearly interpret his mood.
“You should get some food,” he said.
"Yeah… right,” I replied. However, eating was the last thing I wanted. Instead, I was so freaking thirsty. I rose to my feet then and headed over to the breakfast bar.
Chapter Eleven
Hunter
Ihad looked up recommendations for what she could eat to take care of her hangover. Congee had been recommended, a mild porridge, as well as ginger soup. And of course, eggs. Toast was mentioned as well, but I didn’t know which to tell her to go for. For beverages, coconut water was recommended as well as orange juice. I turned and watched her by the dispenser as she drank cup after cup of water. I had never seen her so… disheveled.
There was no makeup on her face, her hair had definitely only lightly seen a brush, but her clothes, though, were prim and proper. They were also a complete and total reversion to whom she had been before the previous night, and upon seeing her again this morning, I truly couldn’t decide which version of her I preferred. Did I want who she was the previous night? Who we were together, or was it time to revert? Did she even remember?
I had woken up long after midnight with her body still draped over mine. I was so damn exhausted that the reasonable thing was to fall right into bed, but if she had woken up in my arms, perhaps things would be even more awkward and complicated than they currently are. I'd taken her to her room, and seeing her wrapped underneath those covers, so warm… so beautiful, I'd wanted to be beside her. Even now… I wanted to ask how she was doing. I had hangover medicine; I'd contacted Mr. Kit to get it for me before the sun had even risen, but I didn’t know how to hand it to her without outrightly shifting the dynamics of our relationship.
Sighing, I lowered my head and started on the fruit salad I had previously rejected. She came over then with water and sat down.
“I’m ready to leave whenever you are, Sir,” she said, and I lifted my gaze to hers. She reached into her briefcase, and I watched as she retrieved a hair tie and tied her hair away from her face.
“You need to eat something.”
Her movement stopped, and then she looked at me. The ghost of a smile curved her lips, and then she looked away again.
“I can't hold anything down. I, uh… I went past my alcohol limit last night.” I returned my attention to my fruit salad.
“They have congee here,” I said. “Rice porridge. It's bland… it's suiting. It’ll help you get through the day.” She watched me, and then she nodded slowly.
She got up again and returned a few minutes later with the steaming bowl. When she set it down, however, I sighed.
“That's too bland; you might not be able to eat it. You should have added some meat or sauce. They have chili oil.”
“I can,” she said. “I’m fine… I can go through today, but… I literally cannot handle salt right now. I'm just going to try this because you recommended it.”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. I reached into the pocket of my jacket and retrieved the bottle.
“Take some of this. Your head must be killing you.”
“It is, Sir,” she replied. She stared at the bottle, and then looked at me again.
“Don’t worry; I've done the research. It’s safe for you to use.”
She smiled. “That wasn’t what I was concerned about. I- “
