The Villains Must Win-Chapter 128: Reid Graves 8

Days blurred together, and before Tabitha knew it, high school was nearly over. It was strange how fast time passed when you were constantly deciphering the complex thought processes of a socially inept genius.

She had been patient with Reid, knowing that while he had an intellect that could probably outsmart half the world’s population, he severely lacked the social skills necessary for romance and other socially related skills. He had feelings for Gwendolyn—everyone knew it. But despite his absurdly high IQ, he just . . . never said it. Not even once.

And that’s how, many years later, he would spiral into insanity.

Bottling up his emotions for years, suppressing every unspoken word and unexpressed feeling, Reid eventually snapped. His final breaking point? Gwendolyn, his so-called safe haven, decided to marry Roman.

The next thing the world knew, there was a serial killer on the loose.

A genius with an uncanny ability to erase his tracks, Reid became one of the most renowned serial killers in history. His method? Kidnapping women who shared Gwendolyn’s features, keeping them as his twisted companions. But the moment they deviated from her personality, he would dispose of them. One by one.

With a mind like his, he was never caught. Over a hundred victims. A mystery that haunted the world.

But right now?

Right now, Reid was just a nerd, buried in a pile of books, blissfully unaware that Tabitha was trying to steer him away from that dark future.

She rested her chin in her palm and leaned over, watching as he devoured text after text in the school library. "So, nerd," she drawled, "what’s the grand plan for college, genius? You gonna become the next Einstein or build killer robots?"

Reid hummed, flipping a page without looking up. "There are many promising fields, but I can’t decide whether I should go into theoretical physics, quantum computing, genetic engineering, biomedical nanotechnology, computational neuroscience, or maybe even astroinformatics."

Tabitha blinked. ". . . Huh?"

Reid finally looked up, adjusting his glasses as if she should obviously know what all of that meant. "Each of these fields presents groundbreaking possibilities that could revolutionize human existence. Theoretically, if I specialize in quantum mechanics, I could work on the development of quantum entanglement communication, leading to instantaneous data transfer beyond light-speed limitations. But if I go into biomedical nanotechnology, I could develop microscopic robots that cure diseases from within the human body. Computational neuroscience, on the other hand, could allow me to map human consciousness onto a digital format—"

Tabitha clamped a hand over his mouth. "Okay, okay, I get it! You’re a walking Wikipedia."

Reid pulled her hand off, frowning. "You asked."

Tabitha rolled her eyes. "Yeah, but I didn’t ask for a TED Talk. Look, all those fancy things sound cool and all, but have you considered—and hear me out on this—becoming an FBI detective?"

Reid stared at her like she had suggested he start a career in clown school. "Excuse me?"

"You know! Like a profiler. You’re a genius, you analyze things quickly, and I bet you could take one look at a crime scene and go full Sherlock Holmes—’ah yes, the murderer has a slight limp, probably drinks his coffee black, and was emotionally neglected as a child.’" She gestured dramatically, nearly knocking over his book pile. "It’s basically a nerd’s dream job!"

Reid scoffed, looking deeply unimpressed. "That’s absurd."

"No, you’re absurd," she shot back. "Think about it! You’d get to solve crimes, catch bad guys, use all that scary brainpower for good. Plus, you’d get to wear a cool trench coat and sunglasses indoors like an absolute badass."

"I wear glasses already," Reid pointed out.

"Then double up for extra mystery," Tabitha countered. "Besides, imagine all the fun we’d have if I was your partner. You’d be analyzing DNA strands, and I’d be interrogating criminals by staring them down until they cry."

Reid pinched the bridge of his nose. "Yes, because that’s how law enforcement works."

"You have to admit," she pressed, grinning, "it would be pretty cool."

Reid was silent for a moment, considering.

Then:

". . . No."

Tabitha groaned. "Ugh, fine. But when you’re stuck in a lab one day doing boring quantum whatever, don’t come crying to me when you realize I was right."

He smirked. "Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it."

"Oh really? Wanna bet on it?" Tabitha challenged, crossing her arms with a grin.

Reid didn’t even look up. With the kind of arrogance only a nerd could pull off, he flipped the page of his book at lightning speed—faster than Tabitha could roll her eyes. "I don’t need to bet on it," he replied smoothly. "Detective work is not for me. For one, I’d definitely fail the physical exams. They expect you to do things like run, jump, and—God forbid—exercise. I’d rather die."

Tabitha snorted. "So you’re considering it?"

"I consider everything," Reid said, finally glancing at her over the top of his book. "However, statistically speaking, it’s an improbable career choice for someone like me. The FBI requires a grueling Quantico training program, including a rigorous fitness test, firearms training, and hand-to-hand combat proficiency. Given my current muscle mass—or lack thereof—I would likely collapse before completing the first lap of their obstacle course."

Tabitha tapped her chin. "Okay, fair point. You are built like a human chopstick."

Reid ignored her. "That being said, if I were to work with law enforcement, I wouldn’t need to physically exert myself. I could instead pursue a career as a consultant—using my expertise in psychology, criminology, and forensic analysis to assist in high-profile cases. I could specialize in criminal profiling, behavioral analysis, and deductive reasoning, much like Sherlock Holmes, minus the Victorian-era pipe and social dysfunction."

Tabitha burst out laughing. "Oh, Reid, honey, you are socially dysfunctional."

Reid frowned. "That is categorically false."

Tabitha gave him a look. "Name one friend outside of me and Gwen and the math and science club."

Reid opened his mouth. Paused. Then slowly closed it.

"Exactly," she said, grinning. "But hey, if you ever become some fancy consultant for the FBI, I better get to be your assistant. I’ll be the cool one in sunglasses and leather jackets, and you’ll be the grumpy genius who explains everything with math and big words no one understands."

Reid sniffed. "I refuse to be reduced to a mere trope."

"Too late," Tabitha teased. "Now, let’s make this bet official." She held out her pinky.

Reid raised a brow. "A pinky swear? What are we, five?"

"Five-year-olds are more mature than you," she shot back. "Now, if you ever, by some miracle, end up working in crime-solving, you have to take me as your assistant. Deal?"

Reid hesitated, then finally sighed and linked his pinky with hers.

"Fine," he muttered. "But I assure you, it will never happen."

Famous last words.

Tabitha laughed as she continued talking to Reid about all sorts of things, from the absurdity of school rules to the questionable ethics of pineapple on pizza. Somehow, this had become their routine—a bizarre yet oddly comfortable dynamic.

Gwendolyn, who had once been Reid’s primary conversational partner, had been absent lately, thanks to Roman. By now, Roman was in full pursuit, chasing after Gwendolyn like a man on a mission, and she was busy dodging him. But, as fate (and cliché romance narratives) would have it, sooner or later, she’d fall for him just like the story wanted.

Tabitha didn’t care about any of that. In fact, she was thrilled that Gwendolyn was preoccupied with Roman. Good, she thought smugly. Now I can have Reid all to myself.

Reid, for his part, was still engrossed in his books. Or at least, that’s what it looked like. But every so often, he’d sneak a glance at Tabitha, his expression unreadable.

Maybe it was her presence that had changed things. The usual bullies who used to pester him had mysteriously backed off, keeping their distance as if a force field had been erected around him. And honestly? He wasn’t complaining.

With Tabitha around, school had been peaceful—well, somewhat peaceful, since her new favorite pastime seemed to be him.

For some reason, she loved talking to him.

And what was even weirder? She actually listened.

No one in their right mind, with a lower IQ than him, had ever voluntarily engaged in conversation with him before. Most people either ignored him, misunderstood him, or gave up halfway through his explanations. But Tabitha? She sat there like it was the most natural thing in the world, nodding along—even when he was clearly rambling about some obscure theorem.

Sure, she probably understood about 10% of what he was saying or probably 1%, but she never dismissed him or made fun of him for it. Instead, she’d counter his long-winded explanations with some ridiculous but oddly witty comeback that made him—against all odds—smile.

It was confusing.

She was confusing.

On paper, she should be terrifying. She was built like someone who could deadlift him and his entire collection of books without breaking a sweat. Her fashion choices were...questionable at best, erring on the side of "goth biker gang leader." And yet—when she grinned, dimples appearing, she looked . . . nice. Charming, even.

"What?" Tabitha suddenly asked, catching him staring.

Reid blinked, caught red-handed. He cleared his throat, searching for a scientific excuse to cover up whatever the hell had just happened.

"I was simply observing the kinetic fluctuations in your facial muscles and how they affect the overall perception of human attractiveness," he stated matter-of-factly. "It’s a phenomenon known as the ’Golden Ratio of Aesthetics,’ wherein—"

"Reid," Tabitha interrupted, deadpan. freēwēbnovel.com

"Yes?"

"Did you just say I look hot in nerd language?"

Reid’s ears immediately turned red. "That is not what I said."

Tabitha smirked. "Mhm. Sure."

Reid quickly buried his face back in his book, flipping the page aggressively. This is fine, he told himself. Totally fine.

He did not just indirectly call Tabitha attractive.

. . . Right?