Chapter 26

Krista

I’m having a total spastic moment.

I mean, I’m not a total nerd, but Professor Smith’s definitely one that I would have at my dream dinner.

You know what I’m talking about, right?

You know, the dream dinner—if you could pick like six people to have dinner with, alive or dead? Well, anyway, Professor Smith’s at the top of that list.

I try not to sound eager or like a crazed fangirl while I talk to him, but he knows literally everything about the mines and coal.

To say I admire him would be the understatement of the century. He’s epic, and I respect him immensely.

He’s published books regarding his findings, research, and studies on the mines, and I want to pick his brain forever.

Only I can’t do that. I have a job and a life, and I’m sure he does, too. The prospect sure sounds appealing, even if it’s beyond unreasonable.

Yes, I have indeed read all his books. Twice. Okay, three times.

So sue me! I’m passionate about my work and willing to take it above and beyond what a normal person would consider appropriate standards.

“So how’s your research going?” Professor Smith asks me with genuine curiosity, folding his hands delightfully.

“It’s going really well,” I tell him.

I don’t want to mention the guys too much, although they do deserve worthy praise for all their hard work and efforts to help me.

Not to mention, they seemingly have my back during the series of annoying and unfortunate occurrences that nobody can pin down to a suspect.

“Please, let me know if you need help with anything—anything at all,” Professor Smith chimes with a friendly demeanor.

“Yes, of course, absolutely.” I nod passionately, maybe a little too desperately. “When we need help, you’ll be the first one we run to,” I add with a sheepish chuckle.

I’m in the middle of class and enjoying every minute of it when a utility worker for the school brushes past the students, interrupting class.

“I need Krista,” he asks, looking around.

“I’m Krista.” I hold up a hand and give him a polite smile.

“Good, come with me.” He beckons with an uninterested wave of his hand.

“Um...can you tell me what this is about?” I chuckle nervously, glancing around.

“Somebody’s looking for you outside,” he says a little more hastily, leaving me to believe that this must be some sort of emergency.

I excuse myself and follow the worker outside, and I stop dead in my tracks when I notice Brandon standing there across from me.

Disappointment floods me, and all I want to do is run away from this jerk. Why the hell does he insist on continuously bothering me?

Can’t he take a damn hint that I’m not interested in him anymore, like whatsoever?

Do I need to explain it in ten different fucking languages until he finally gets it through his thick skull to move on?

You know what? I’m a strong, independent woman who can survive on her own. I don’t have to answer to any man.

Before you start telling me I sound like a viral video, just hear me out.

First, though, I’m going to flee the scene. I spin on my heel and prepare to give Brandon the cold shoulder without speaking to him.

Fuck! He grabs me before I get the smug chance to abandon him in the hallway. I try to shrug him off my arm, but he’s got a pretty good grip on me, as if he’s been training for the Olympics or something.

I flash my eyes up at him and immediately notice that he’s calm and appears rational.

Now that’s a first when it comes to this unequivocally seasoned, irate asshole.

I also notice his eyes. It looks like he’s not sleeping well. His pupils are dilated and hollow, and he has large dark bags underneath his eyes.

“You look horrible,” I state flatly, getting solid vindication by saying something offensive directed toward him.

He gives me a wounded bunny look, and against my better judgment, I decide to stay and hear what he has to offer.

Who knows, maybe this’ll be my entertainment for the day? I wish I had a bowl of popcorn to go along with it now.

Maybe it’s the fact that he looks so pitiful, and I’m in a good place in my life, aside from the secret research sabotage and veiled perpetrator.

“Okay, Brandon, what the hell do you want?” I sigh with annoyance.

I want to go ahead and get this shit over with.

“I want you back.” His eyes plead for mercy. He’s still singing the same song, doing the same shoddy dance.

“Brandon—” I begin with my own impeccable quality to hash out unfavorable opinions, but he interrupts me yet again.

“Hear me out,” he pleads pathetically. “I can compromise about your work.”

I scoff. “What the hell is that supposed to mean exactly?”

Brandon licks his lips and glances around nervously. “I can change for you,” he says as if he’s desperate.

“You don’t need to change for me,” I say, sighing and shaking my head. I turn to leave. “Goodbye, Brandon. I wish you the best of luck. Honestly.”

Brandon locks his hand around my arm so hard that he squeezes it and makes me gasp in pain.

“What the hell are you doing?” I glance up at him in panic. “Let me go, you freak.”

His eyes look wild, and I recoil with regretful fear. What the hell am I thinking? I should’ve run from him when I had the chance.

“I mean it,” I hiss. “Let me go. You can’t control me or keep me here.”

“I can do what I want,” Brandon says with a fanatical expression on his face.

Shit. I hope I don’t wind up on some Dateline show. The last thing I want to have happen is to be kidnapped by this emotional basket case.

“No, you can’t do what you want,” I exclaim sternly. “I’m going to ask you one more time. Let me go!”

Unfortunately, he’s not listening at all.

Brandon’s stronger than me, and my efforts are in vain. No matter how hard I struggle, he just seems to be that much stronger.

He’s twisting my arm so hard that I am certain I’ll wake up with a bruise tomorrow. This shit’s the last fucking thing I need on top of everything else going on lately.

“Come on, Brandon.” I stop fighting him, realizing that if I pretend to be a negotiator, he’ll let me go eventually.

Only I forgot one pretty significant detail of this circumstance.

Mind games and head tricks don’t work on Brandon. He’s an idiot, but he has street smarts, and he’s a master manipulator.

He doesn’t buy into my load of crap, no matter how submissive I pretend to be so that he’ll let me go.

“You’re hurting me,” I say forcefully through gritted teeth.

“You hurt me, too,” he argues, as if that’s the best fucking comeback on earth.

“People break up all the time,” I remind him. “More importantly, they always move on.”

“I don’t want to move on.” Brandon struggles as I squirm around, trying to free myself. “I want you.”

“Well, this isn’t exactly the best way to court a girl,” I joke, hoping to get him to loosen up...both literally and figuratively.

Brandon ignores me and tries to drag me down another hallway. I grimace with the pain, and before I know what’s happening, something dark flashes in front of my peripheral vision.

What the hell is going on? Is there a bat lose in the school just flying around?

Never mind. It’s King!

King to the rescue! He’s going to live up to his namesake potential. Not that I ever doubted he had the qualities anyway!

Brandon’s just as jolted as I am at the rescue. Well, in Brandon’s case, it wouldn’t be considered a rescue—more like a road block hindering him from his abduction attempt.

The next thing I see in my vision is King’s arm going up and swinging back down to clock Bandon right in the face.

Gloriously, all this is unfolding before my eyes in surreal slow motion. I smile and squeal, jumping up and down as my true hero comes to my aid.

Brandon naturally topples to the ground, crumpling like a heap of dirty laundry upon impact at King’s fist meeting his face.

King turns to face me, heavily panting and with a mixture of pride and concern splashing across his face.

“Are you alright? Are you hurt?” He sounds nervous as he rubs my bruised arm.

“I’m okay,” I reassure him with a smile. “Thank you. That’s so awesome. I want to relive him going down forever.”

Speaking of which, I guess King’s not through with Brandon because he stands in front of him while Brandon’s still lying on the floor, wincing and withering in pain.

“You son of a bitch. I’m going to kill you,” Brandon mumbles and clutches his wounded face.

“Wrong, asshole. If you ever bother Krista again, I’m going to kill you,” King threatens Brandon, who just glares back up at him.

My heart leaps with relief that the ordeal is over, and I can walk away with King, my hero of the day.