101 Ways To Tame A Rockstar

04| Captain Buzzkill ☆

Jace's POV

There were hangovers. And then there was.... this.

My skull felt like someone had hit it with a jackhammer, filled the cracks with bees, then glued it all back together with last night's vodka. Every heartbeat is a punchline I didn't remember setting up. My mouth tasted like regret and mint toothpaste, like I tried to erase the damage but only made it worse.

My body hates me. My brain? Oh, my brain must loathe me. Especially when the nightmares would not stop. Those memories I never asked for-- never wanted, still digging their claws in like they're waiting for me to snap. Why can't they just... go away.

Tch Another thing that wants to ruin me I guess.

I glanced at the bathroom mirror, but it was a mistake. Hazel eyes, bloodshot and flat like they'd forgotten how to shine. I look... very wrong. Dead on the inside, wearing my own face like a costume.

I look away fast. Not wanting to see that bastard staring back. That bitch probably hates me too.

I dragged myself downstairs anyway, water dripping from my still-wet hair, designer sweatpants slung low on my hips because I couldn't even be bothered to tie the drawstring. No shirt. No shame. Just a death wish and the faint, desperate hope that coffee might bring me back from my grave.

Then... i saw him. The man who conpletely ruined my sleep and my morning.

Captain Buzzkill.

Standing there like a six-foot blockade of muscle and attitude. Barefoot at my damn stove like he owns the place. Spatula in one hand, phone on the counter, and because apparently making scrambled eggs is a 'combat scenario' and a high-risk operation, a gun was tucked against his waistband.

Ughhhhh why the hell is he still here?!
Maybe I should've been more difficult when he came to wake me up!

But I guess there's always tommorrow ~ I swear to make your life a living hell Kai Fuckin Bianchi!

"Seriously?" I rasped, voice rough enough to scratch glass, as I rubbed a knuckle into my eye like a sulky child-- because I am a sulky child, and I'm not even sorry about it. "You're domestic now? What's next, matching aprons?"

Kai didn't even flinch, almost as if he'd been expecting that from me. He flicked me a glance over his shoulder, and it was flat, clinical, and unimpressed--- like he was assessing whether or not I was a threat... or just plain pathetic. And that lands like a hard slap.

"Sit," He ordered, voice clipped and steady.

Seriously? No 'good morning.' No "how's the hangover?'. All he gave me was a single command, sharp and cold.

Tf did this fucker think he is huh?!

So naturally, I do the opposite. I hopped onto the counter, dripping water onto the perfect marble countertop. On purpose. Legs swinging like a five years old, trying to annoy the substitute teacher.

His jaw tightened slightly, and it was so fucking satisfying. "You smell like a bar fight," He muttered, with infuriating calm, turning the eggs with maddening precision.

A slow, sininster smirk etched itself onto my face. "And you smell like an overpaid babysitter," I shot back, watching his eye twitch.

Jace Kade= 1. Kai Terminator= 0.

Hehehehe

And because I was stupid and maybe still a little drunk, I decided it was neccessary to push it further. "What is this even? The nanny package my label paid for?"