The Villains Must Win-Chapter 137: Reid Graves 17

"Prom only happens once in your life, Reid," Tabitha said, leaning closer. "It’ll be fun."

Reid finally looked up, giving her a skeptical stare. "Statistically speaking, prom is not an enjoyable experience for at least forty percent of attendees due to social anxiety, bad music, overpriced tickets, and cheap food."

Tabitha rolled her eyes. "Okay, Professor Buzzkill. But that still leaves sixty percent having a great time. And since I’ll be with you, your odds are even better."

Reid narrowed his eyes. "That’s not how statistics work."

"That’s exactly how statistics work when I’m involved," she shot back. "Now, stop overthinking it. We’re going."

Reid hesitated, but Tabitha caught the tiniest hint of a smile on his lips. "Fine," he muttered. "But if it’s terrible, I reserve the right to say ’I told you so’ for the rest of my life."

"Deal," Tabitha said with a wink. "Now, let’s just hope you can dance."

"No promises," Reid deadpanned.

=== 🖤 ===

One sunny Saturday.

Tabitha grunted as she swung the baseball bat, smacking the ball with a solid thwack before propping it over her shoulder with a smug grin.

"Alright! See that just now, Reid? The way I swung my hips? Right here? Nice and easy. Now, your turn—come on."

They were in a baseball training facility, and Tabitha was on a mission: teaching Reid how to hit a ball so he wouldn’t completely flunk his P.E. class. He was running for the number one spot in the entire campus upon graduation, but of course, the one thing holding him back was—of all things—physical education. The universe was cruel like that.

Reid, standing stiffly beside her, adjusted his glasses with a sigh. "You know, when I agreed to let you help me, baseball wasn’t exactly what I had in mind."

"Oh yeah?" Tabitha arched a brow. "Then what was on your mind?"

"Table tennis," he said flatly. "Something where you aren’t at risk of getting smacked in the face with a rock-hard projectile."

Tabitha threw her head back and laughed. "Table tennis? That’s for old men and women at retirement homes. Real men play real sports. Now, come on. It’ll be easy."

"I highly doubt that."

"You’re acting like I’m torturing you. Come on. This is fun."

"Believe it or not," Reid muttered, "my childhood memories regarding sports aren’t all pleasant."

Tabitha waved him off. "Come on, just one game, Reid. I promise you’ll get the hang of it. Once you pass your P.E. class, you’ll never have the chance to play again."

"Perfect. Can we leave now?"

"Reid."

Reid let out the longest, most exhausted sigh known to mankind before dragging himself toward the batter’s box, gripping the bat like it was a foreign object he had never once encountered in his life.

Tabitha clapped her hands together. "Alright, Reid! Here we go! Eyes on the ball." She pressed the button on the pitching machine, and the ball came flying toward him.

Reid swung. He missed so badly that even a toddler would have done a better job.

Tabitha blinked. "It’s fine! First try! Here comes another one."

Reid, however, wasn’t listening. He was mumbling to himself, eyes squinting in deep thought. "Gravity plus drag coefficient plus Magnus force . . . I see what you’re saying . . . If I adjust the velocity of my swing at precisely—"

Tabitha cut him off. "I never said that! What I am saying is—get out of your head and be in the moment! Feel it, Reid! Just feel it!"

"Feel it. Feel it." Reid repeated, adjusting the cuffs of his long-sleeved shirt.

(And who in their right mind wore a button-up dress shirt to play baseball anyway?)

Tabitha grinned, setting up the next pitch. "Alright, here it comes!"

Reid swung.

Nothing.

"You’re not doing it right," Tabitha hollered. "You need to feel it more."

"I feel like an idiot." Reid exhaled.

Tabitha doubled over laughing.

Before she could throw more motivational wisdom at him, her phone rang. She glanced at the screen before letting out an exaggerated gasp. "Oh, sweet justice. Today is your lucky day, my dear genius. I’ve got an emergency errand I have to run."

Reid practically sagged in relief. "Oh, thank God."

Tabitha smirked as she started packing up. "Alright, but let me ask you one thing."

Reid, still gripping the bat, looked up warily. "What?"

"Would you rather fail P.E. and not graduate as the number one genius in the school or just do this onetime event and move on with life?"

Reid opened his mouth, but for once in his life, no words came out.

Of course, he wanted to graduate at the top of his batch. It was the one thing he could be proud of, the one thing he could show off. He had no interest in sports, school dances, or socializing, but being the smartest? That was his identity. That was who he was.

And yet . . . this ridiculous requirement—this unnecessary physical struggle—was standing between him and his rightful throne.

He scowled at the bat in his hands like it had personally wronged him.

"Just think of it as another problem to solve," Tabitha called over her shoulder as she headed for the exit. She paused, turning dramatically. "Oh! And remember—swing those hips and feel it!"

"Yeah . . . feel it . . . right," Reid muttered, staring at the bat like it might give him an answer. He gave it a half-hearted swing, nearly knocking himself off balance. freёwebnoѵel.com

This was going to be a nightmare.

Meanwhile, Tabitha practically skipped out of the training facility, her mood doing a complete 180.

She had somewhere important to be.

The rental dress shop.

She was finally going to try on her dress for prom.

She bit her lip to stop herself from grinning too hard. She knew she was acting a little too giddy over this, but she couldn’t help it. After all . . . this was her second chance.

Back in her original life, she never got to go to prom.

It wasn’t just because she was unpopular. No, no. It was much worse than that.