Undercover Hate

Chapter Twenty-Nine: I Can't Believe It's Not Failure!

The sun hasn't even begun to peek through the heavy curtains of our hotel room when I roll over, bleary-eyed, to find Ace still asleep across the room. I can't help but smile; he looks peaceful, with his tousled hair falling over his forehead. I never expect to feel so comfortable with him, let alone share a hotel room. But last night shifts something between us—a connection I can't quite put into words.

I reluctantly crawl out of bed, the chill of the morning air hitting me as I slip into my hoodie and leggings. My combat boots make a satisfying thud against the wooden floor as I cross the room to gather my things. The suitcase lies open, filled with the remnants of our Parisian adventure—some clothes, a few souvenirs, and the memories we have created.

"Hey, sleepyhead," I say, trying to keep my voice light despite the lingering fatigue.

Ace stirs, squinting against the light streaming through the curtains. "What time is it?"

"Early," I reply with a grin. "We've got to hustle if we want to catch our flight."

He shoots out of bed, adrenaline kicking in as he begins throwing his things into his suitcase. I can't help but chuckle at his frenzied movements. "You know we can't miss it, right?"

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," he says, pulling on a clean shirt and hastily zipping up his suitcase. "You ready?"

"Almost," I say, glancing at the clock. "I think I left my charger somewhere."

"Let me help you find it," he offers, and we search the room together. In a matter of minutes, we are both packed and out the door, racing downstairs to grab our ride to the airport.

As we speed through the streets of Paris, my stomach twists in knots. I hate flying.

"Just breathe, Adriana," Ace says, noticing my fidgeting hands. "We're almost there."

"Easy for you to say," I shoot back, trying to sound more confident than I feel.

Ace reaches over, his hand finding mine. "Look, I know you're nervous, but just think about all the things we'll do when we get back home."

"Like what? Work?" I reply, attempting to keep the mood light.

He chuckles, the sound warm and comforting. "Okay, maybe not work. But we could hit up that taco place you love. Or go to the beach. Or—"

"Or binge-watch terrible reality shows?" I interrupt, feeling a smile tug at my lips.

"Exactly! Nothing says home like greasy food and bad television," he says, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "We'll make it a whole day of doing absolutely nothing."

I squeeze his hand, feeling a little better. "That actually sounds perfect."

Before I know it, we arrive at the airport, and I can't help but feel the panic creeping back in.

"Ace, what if we miss our flight?"

"We won't," he assures me, his grip tightening around my hand as we navigate through the bustling terminal. "Trust me. I've got this."

We dash through the terminal, barely making it to our gate as they announce the final boarding call. I gasp, a mix of relief and adrenaline flooding my system.

"See? Told you we'd make it," Ace says, a triumphant grin plastered on his face.

I roll my eyes but feel grateful as we board the plane. The familiarity of the seats brings a sense of comfort, but as we settle in, my heart begins to race.

Ace must notice because he turns to me, his expression softening. "Hey, remember our last flight?"

"Yeah," I reply, my stomach churning.