Killer Queen

16.

Eugene's POV

I woke up with a pounding headache—a hangover, no doubt. I couldn't remember how many drinks I had, but I recalled watching Thelma all night. Jeez, I sound like a creep, but I couldn't help it; she looked beautiful in that white dress.

But I know I'll never have her or be her number one because, compared to Marquez, I'm nothing. Sure, Thelma called me handsome a few times, but it was all out of pity because of my situation as a victim of abuse. I've never felt easy to look at. My father would tease me endlessly, and it still haunted me.

Growing up, everyone said my eyes were big. People close to me—my dad's sister and my mother—would say, "Oh, you have beautiful brown eyes," which wasn't a lie since I got them from her. But they were big, and hearing that all the time hurt me deeply.

All this thinking made my head hurt even more, so I decided to stop and resume later. I got up without putting on my glasses and looked in the mirror, seeing that I looked like shit. I needed to give my glasses a break to see if I could function without them.

I freshened up, threw on something simple, and headed downstairs, where I saw Thelma making something in the kitchen. "Hangover too, huh?" she asked, looking at me. She wore booty shorts and a pink T-shirt.

"Yeah, something like that," I replied, my voice still hoarse from the previous night's revelry. Seeing Thelma in her casual attire made my heart skip a beat. Her effortless beauty always had that effect on me.

She chuckled softly. "I figured as much. Here, this might help." She handed me a glass filled with a greenish liquid. "It's my special hangover cure. Drink up."

I took the glass, eyeing the concoction skeptically. "What's in it?"

She shrugged, a playful smile on her lips. "Just trust me. It'll make you feel better."

I hesitated for a moment but then took a sip. The taste was surprisingly refreshing, and I could already feel it working its magic. "Thanks, Thelma. I needed this."

"No problem," she said, turning back to the stove. "I'm making some breakfast too. How do you like your eggs?"

"Scrambled, please," I replied, feeling more human with each passing minute.

As she cooked, I couldn't help but admire her. Despite everything we'd been through, she still managed to find moments of normalcy, moments that reminded me of a life that felt so distant now.

"How are you feeling?" I asked, trying to make conversation.

Thelma glanced over her shoulder, a small smile playing on her lips. "Better than I thought I would. Last night was... intense."

"Yeah, it was," I agreed, memories of the night flashing through my mind. "But you handled it well. You were amazing."

She blushed slightly, turning her attention back to the eggs. "Thanks."

We fell into a comfortable silence, the sound of sizzling eggs and the aroma of breakfast filling the kitchen. It felt almost like a normal morning, something I hadn't experienced in a long time. After a few minutes, Thelma set a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me. "Eat up," she said, sitting across from me with her plate.

We ate silently for a while, and the hangover cure and the food worked wonders.

"Where's Yvonne?" I rolled my eyes at the presence of Marquez. Thelma's body tensed at his voice, and I knew why. He placed his mark on her arm like a dog marking its territory.

"She was tired, so I cooked breakfast," Thelma said calmly, which surprised me because she didn't seem afraid like I thought she would be. But Trench Don was at the club last night, and she became too quiet.