Chapter 92

“I swear, if I find out you're joking, I'm going to kill you. Like, really kill you,” Cecil said, swirling the reddish hangover liquid in the ceramic bowl, watching me with a suspicious eye.

She’d woken up about eighteen minutes ago, demanding to know what had happened and how she ended up drunk with a very non-human alcohol. I had brought the bottle with us to show her when she woke up. I wanted her to see how careless she’d been.

“I have to make lunch, Cecil. Stop keeping me here,” I groaned, uncrossing my legs and crossing them again.

“Well, the story doesn’t line up,” she said, placing the bowl on the counter. “I got really, seriously drunk, and somehow you found me in the car of this insanely hot redhead who said he is my mate, right?”

I nodded.

She continued, “And then you took me away from him with a promise that you were going to set up a date for both of us to meet since you didn’t trust him that much. And you collected his number. Then he helped you take me into the Parkhouse.”

I nodded again.

“And his name is Theodore Roosevelt?”

“Yeah,” I confirmed, nodding.

She giggled, sporting a fangirl look. “Theodore Roosevelt, huh? I can’t believe I found my mate while being that drunk. What if I’d done something embarrassing?”

“Dude, you were already embarrassing yourself,” I said, rolling my eyes. “You were hanging out with a bunch of smoking teens.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” She said, cringing. “I swear I don’t even remember how I got there. Last thing I remember is feeling pissed off and grabbing a bottle for a gross looking man.” She grimaced as she said the last part, as of just remembering what had really happened.

“Yeah, and you almost got yourself into more trouble,” I said, crossing my arms. “What if the person who found you was a sex-starved, sixty-year-old mateless man and not Mr. Blue Eyes?”

Cecil looked at me incredulously, almost not believing what I just said or imagining what really would have happened. “Okay, now it sounds extremely bad when you say it like that.” She gave an embarrassed smile.

I shrugged. “It is. Now drink your slimy hangover soup. Zara spent so much time preparing it.”

“I will,” she promised, then changed the topic with a playful smile. “So, tell me more about this Mr. Roosevelt guy. Is he really that hot?”

I laughed, shaking my head. “Yes, he is. Cecil, he looks hotter than the sun and is the perfect man in the world. Now stop asking me.”

“Hmm,” she hummed thoughtfully, ignoring the rest of my words. “I can’t wait to meet him properly. I hope he’s as hot as you said–” She suddenly paused, and very slowly turned to look at me with a dreadful look.

I sat properly, legs down, wondering what happened.

“What if he has a girlfriend?” She stared into space. “You did say he was on a call when you found us.”

“Uh...” I also stared at nowhere in particular. “I don't think so. He seemed pretty happy when he saw you, and also concerned.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. I’ll call him to meet you at the cafe close to Luxury tomorrow, if that’s okay with you.” I stood up.

“I would do it today, but I have alcohol breath and I look like I just narrowly survived an apocalypse.”

I snorted. “Yes, you do. Now, can I go make lunch, or do you have more questions?”

She giggled, shaking her head. She waved me off “No more questions. Go ahead and make lunch. I’ll finish my soup and try to look less apocalyptic. Just...don’t burn anything.”

The house we were at wasn’t mine; it was Cecil’s. I had come over the moment I woke up at home and realized she lived alone and would probably die from the hangover. I knew how bad she could get after nights like that, and I didn't want to risk her hurting herself.

Before I left my place, I had noticed Damon seemed distraught when he left the house with Selene. It wasn't that he cared about me or my affairs, but he wasn’t his usual jerk self. There was a certain emptiness in his eyes, something I hadn’t seen before. It didn’t surprise me that he was less interested in what I was doing, but it was strange nonetheless.

When I and Zara came to Cecil’s, she was still passed out. I made sure she was comfortable and then decided to make some breakfast. While I was cleaning up the mess she had made earlier in the morning when we came back from the festival, Zara made her a hangover soup

After finishing up in the kitchen, I went back to Cecil’s room. She was done drinking the soup and just came out from the shower, looking much better than she had earlier.

“Smells good,” she commented, sniffing the air appreciatively.

“Yeah, it’s almost ready,” I replied, leaning against the doorframe. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” she said, smiling. “I feel fresh and ready to prepare myself to meet my _mate_. Right! We have to get me a good dress for the date she sported a puppy eyes. “Can you help me with that? I'm hungry and the aroma of whatever you cook isn't helping”

“Yes, just don’t make a habit of it, okay? I mean the drinking”

She laughed, shaking her head. “Sure thanks, I’ll try not to.”

She almost ran out with only a soaked towel, so I had to stop her and while she dressed up, I search for a better dress for the date.

While we sat down for lunch, She couldn’t help but bring up Theo again. “So, when exactly are we meeting him tomorrow?”

“I was thinking around noon. Does that work for you?”

“Yeah, noon sounds good,” she said, taking a bite of her food. “I’m a bit nervous, though. What if I don't like him?”

“Hehe, then you'll have to stay mateless. Forever.”