So we ended up at a shabby little Chinese restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a vape shop. Thankfully, they accepted QR payments from Gregor’s phone. I was about to pass out from hunger, so I didn’t even complain when the food came out steaming hot, full of peppers that looked like weapons.
The first bite lit my tongue on fire. “Oh my god,” I choked, fanning my mouth. “This is lava.”
Gregor, of course, ate like it was nothing. Shoveling noodles and dumplings like a man starved for decades. “Weak,” he said between bites.
“Excuse me?” I sputtered, grabbing my water. “This food was cooked in the pits of hell. If my tongue doesn’t survive this, I’m haunting you.”
He smirked, which was unfair because he looked way too good doing it, even in that ridiculous hoodie. “At least you’ll fi
