The Villains Must Win-Chapter 131: Reid Graves 11

"Oh no, the big elephant is marching our way—brace for impact!"

Fernan smirked as Tabitha approached. He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, radiating the smug confidence of a guy who thought he was untouchable.

"Well, well, if it isn’t the school’s resident elephant bodyguard," he sneered. "What’s the matter, Tabitha? Did your pet nerd put in a distress call? Or are you just here to remind us all that you could bench press a truck but still couldn’t bench press a decent fashion sense?"

His friends erupted into laughter, egging him on.

"Roman and his gang might go easy on girls—even on an ugly fatty like you—but not me. You know, for someone built like a brick wall, you sure cry like a glass window, remember that?" he continued, grinning from ear to ear. "Always getting worked up over nothing. Maybe if you focused less on throwing punches and more on throwing charm and loosing those fat, you wouldn’t scare off every guy within a five-mile radius. Or is that the plan? Keep ’em all away so you can—"

BAM!

Before he could finish his sentence, Tabitha’s fist met his face with the force of a runaway freight train.

The room went dead silent as Fernan, mid-smirk, went down like a puppet with its strings cut. One second, he was talking. The next, he was out cold, sprawled across the cafeteria floor, limbs splayed like a crime scene outline.

His friends stared in stunned silence. One even reached down and cautiously poked Fernan’s unconscious body, as if checking to see if he was still among the living.

Tabitha dusted off her knuckles and exhaled. "Huh. I thought he’d last at least three insults longer."

Reid, without looking up from his breakfast, casually muttered, "Statistically speaking, overconfidence increases the likelihood of miscalculating one’s limits. Fernan’s mistake was assuming his jaw was indestructible."

The rest of the cafeteria was still frozen in shock.

Tabitha stretched her arms and looked down at Fernan’s lackeys. "So . . . anyone else got something to say?"

Immediate head shakes. Absolute silence. Even the janitor, who had just walked in with a mop, took one look and decided it wasn’t his problem and looked away at the mess.

Tabitha grinned and sat back down, casually taking a sip of her juice.

Reid took a bite of his toast and nodded. "Efficient conflict resolution. Though next time, let’s see if we can get through breakfast without a concussion count. Though I doubt they would leave me alone after this."

"You just gotta man up."

"I’m not exactly built for any form of physical exertion," Reid replied, adjusting his glasses like he was stating an undeniable scientific fact. "In fact, statistically speaking, any sudden movement that requires more than fifteen percent of my daily energy output is considered a near-death experience."

Tabitha rolled her eyes. "Then I’ll be on your side always. Problem fix."

Reid raised an eyebrow. "That’s not going to be physically possible. Let’s analyze the variables, shall we? First, the likelihood of you never getting sick is statistically improbable—unless, of course, you’ve secretly unlocked some kind of superhuman immunity, in which case, I have questions. Second, you do realize that basic human biology requires you to use the girls’ restroom, right? Unless your grand plan involves smuggling me in and convincing the entire school that I’ve suddenly become invisible, I assure you, both security and social norms will not allow it. And third, even if by some miracle we defy all logic and stick together 24/7, what’s your contingency plan for, say, gym class? Are you planning to fight the system and enroll me in synchronized swimming just to keep an eye on me?"

He folded his arms, squinting his eyes at me. "Go ahead, enlighten me. I’m dying to hear how you intend to defy basic logistics."

Tabitha laughed, a rich, unbothered sound that made Reid feel like he was the punchline to a joke he hadn’t quite figured out yet. Then, without warning, she grabbed his hand and squeezed—firm, and steady which startled him a little.

"Come rain or snow, locked library doors or rampaging bullies, I’ll be there. Always. I promise."

Reid blinked, momentarily thrown off balance. Statistically speaking, the probability of someone actually keeping a promise like that was low—life was unpredictable, people even more so. Even the most well-intentioned vows were often casualties of circumstance. And yet . . .

For the first time in his life, despite all the cold, hard facts, despite every logical argument stacked against it, Reid actually believed her.

It was completely irrational. A statistical anomaly.

And yet, as he looked at her, sitting there with that ridiculous, confident grin, he found himself thinking that maybe—just maybe—some things weren’t meant to be calculated.

Reid narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What’s the catch?"

Tabitha blinked. "What?"

He took his hand from her hold and crossed his arms, tilting his head slightly as if analyzing a complex equation. "Well, statistically speaking, people don’t just dedicate themselves to someone’s lifelong protection out of the goodness of their hearts. There’s usually an ulterior motive—money, power, revenge, possibly a secret vow sworn under a blood moon." He leaned in slightly. "So what is it? What do you want?"

Tabitha gasped, pressing a dramatic hand to her chest. "Reid! How could you? Can’t a person just be nice?"

Reid adjusted his glasses. "Unlikely."

Tabitha huffed. "Fine. You got me. I want something."

He smiled. "I knew it."

"I want . . ." She leaned in, her expression dead serious. "Your brain."

Reid squinted at her, adjusting his glasses as if he had misheard. "I’m sorry, did you just say you want my brain?"

Tabitha nodded solemnly. "Yes."

Reid leaned back slightly, eyes darting around. "Okay, first of all, that’s a terrifying sentence to hear without context. Second, I need my brain. It’s kind of crucial to my survival."

Tabitha rolled her eyes. "Relax, Dr. Frankenstein, I don’t want it literally. I meant in exchange for protecting you and being your forever friend, I want you to help me with math and . . . well, basically every other subject out there." She sighed dramatically. "Or I’ll flunk. Hard. Like, ’rewriting the same grade with kids five years younger than me’ hard."

Well, not really. It was all part of the plan to get closer to him. The tutoring was just a convenient excuse—a perfectly crafted scheme. Spending weekends together under the guise of academic necessity? That was just an added bonus.

Heck, she had even failed on purpose just to get to this point.

Some might call it manipulation.

She preferred to call it strategic friendship development into becoming the potential bride.

Reid stared at her. "So . . . you want me to tutor you?"

"Basically, yeah."

Reid sighed, pretending to mull it over. "Hmmm. On one hand, it’s a fair exchange. On the other hand, this means I’ll have to witness whatever disastrous level of math incompetence you possess."

Tabitha huffed. "Hey! I’m not that bad!"

"You called algebra ’math spaghetti’ last week."

"Well, excuse me for not speaking fluent numbers!"

Reid took a deep breathe. "Fine, I’ll tutor you. But don’t blame me if I end up needing emotional support after seeing your test scores."

Tabitha grinned. "Deal!"

And just like that, Reid realized he had signed up for something far scarier than bullies—teaching Tabitha math and science.

"Now that we have a deal, how about we starts this Saturday, your place."

Reid froze. "Wait—what?" freewebnøvel.com

Tabitha beamed. "What? You thought we’d do it at school? Nah, too many distractions. Besides, your house is probably quiet, and you have, like, a million books, right? That’s the perfect study environment."

Reid squinted at her. "How do you even know that I have a million of books?"

Tabitha’s eyes widened in mock surprise. "Wait—you actually do have millions of books? Wow, what a shocking revelation! I never would’ve guessed, considering your entire personality screams ’I’d rather be reading’."

Reid gave her a flat look. "Hilarious. Truly, your observational skills are unparalleled."

Tabitha smirked. "Oh, I know. Next, I’m going to make another wild guess—you also own at least three different kinds of highlighters, and you definitely have a system for organizing your notes."

Reid crossed his arms. "I don’t see how that’s relevant."

"Oh, it’s relevant," she said smugly. "Because that means you’re the perfect tutor. So! Saturday at your place. Be ready."

Reid sighed, already feeling a headache forming. "I feel like I’m being scammed."

"You are being scammed," Tabitha admitted cheerfully. "But in a friendly way."

Reid pinched the bridge of his nose. "I should’ve seen this coming."

"You should’ve," Tabitha agreed, grabbing an extra piece of toast from his plate like she had every right to it. "You’re a genius, after all. But sometimes, even geniuses get played."

Reid sighed as he watched her take a huge bite of his breakfast. "And I assume I have no say in this arrangement?"

"Nope," she said through a mouthful of toast. "I mean, you could say no, but then I’d have to dramatically sulk, fail all my exams, and blame you for my tragic academic downfall."

Reid gave her a long stare. "That’s emotional blackmail."

Tabitha grinned. "See? You’re already teaching me things."

Before he could protest further, the school bell rang.

Tabitha stood up, dusting crumbs off her shirt. "Alright, genius. See you on Saturday. Oh! And stock up on snacks—I think better when I’m well-fed."

Reid watched her walk off, then muttered to himself, "This is going to be a disaster."

But, strangely enough, he didn’t entirely mind.