The Villains Must Win-Chapter 139: Reid Graves 19

The school gym had been transformed into a dazzling wonderland of fairy lights, glittering drapes, and an overenthusiastic amount of balloons.

The DJ was already playing questionable early-2000s pop songs, and the punch table had a suspiciously long line (probably because someone had already spiked it).

And then there was Reid.

If there was ever an award for "Most Nerdy Prom Attire," Reid would’ve won it without contest. He showed up in an ill-fitting beige suit, a plaid bowtie that was definitely from a thrift store clearance bin, and a pair of oversized glasses that magnified his eyes to the point where he looked permanently startled.

His hair? Slicked white hair with way too much gel, making him look like a cross between an old-timey accountant and a guy who had just lost a spelling bee in the final round.

As soon as he stepped inside, Roman and his group of friends, dressed like they had just walked out of a designer catalog, zeroed in on him like hawks spotting a wounded rabbit.

"Reid, buddy," Roman smirked, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "You lost on your way to the National Quiz Bee?"

Another one of Roman’s goons, Travis, let out a dramatic gasp. "Wait, no—guys, this isn’t the quiz bee! This is his funeral! You know, because that suit? It’s gotta be for a wake."

The group burst into laughter while Reid stood there, unbothered, adjusting his bowtie like a man with zero regrets.

"Funny," Reid deadpanned, "considering that statistically speaking, dressing well doesn’t increase intelligence, which means you still sound dumb, even in your overpriced suit."

"OHHH!" A passing student, overhearing the exchange, let out a dramatic "burn" sound.

Before Roman could think of a comeback, a ripple of whispers spread through the room. The kind of murmurs that only happened when something—or someone—completely unexpected entered the scene.

Then, she stepped in.

Gwendolyn.

But not just Gwendolyn. This wasn’t the quiet girl who always hid behind thick glasses and messy buns, who sat in the back of the classroom scribbling notes. No, this was a completely transformed version of her, wearing a stunning white dress that shimmered under the dim lights, her once-hidden features now fully visible. Her hair, free from its usual disastrous state, cascaded down her back in perfect waves, and—most shocking of all—she wasn’t wearing her glasses.

There was a collective gasp. Someone actually choked on their punch.

"Who is that?" one girl whispered.

"No way that’s Gwendolyn," another student muttered.

Reid adjusted his glasses and blinked. "Ah, yes. The ’glasses-off transformation trope.’ Scientifically proven to shock people who never paid attention in the first place."

Roman, who had been more than happy to make fun of Reid a minute ago, was now striding toward Gwendolyn like a man on a mission. His usual cocky grin was replaced with something softer, but still annoyingly smug, and without hesitation, he reached for her hand.

"You look . . . beautiful," Roman said smoothly, lifting her hand like he was about to kiss it. freewёbn૦νeɭ.com

Gwendolyn, to her credit, did not fall into his arms like a lovestruck fool. Instead, she narrowed her eyes at him and muttered, "Try anything funny, and I will punch you."

Her cheeks, however, were undeniably red.

Roman only chuckled. "That’s my girl."

Reid rolled his eyes so hard he nearly sprained something. "Ugh, I swear, attraction to overconfident idiots should be classified as a psychological phenomenon, and falling in love with your bully should be classified as an extreme mental condition."

But as much as the scene in front of him screamed "main character love story," Reid wasn’t invested. No, he was waiting for someone else. Tabitha.

Where was she?

Another thirty minutes passed, and Reid called her again.

"Where are you?" Reid asked, for what had to be the hundredth time that night.

"Five more minutes, hon. Your date is still getting ready and beautifying herself," Tabitha responded, sounding completely unbothered.

"Is that even a word?" he muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"It is now," she said cheerfully. "Anyway, wait patiently for me there, loverboy. I’ll be right there."

And with that, the line went dead. Reid exhaled heavily, tilting his head back toward the heavens.

"Tabitha’s not here yet?"

Reid turned to find Gwendolyn approaching, a drink in hand. Her cheeks were flushed, and she swayed slightly as she walked.

"No," he said, eyeing the drink warily. "She said she’s still getting ready. And are you sure you should be drinking that? I saw a couple of guys suspiciously hovering around that punch bowl earlier. I think you should stop."

Gwendolyn hiccupped and smiled at him, an unmistakable sign that she was, in fact, drunk—and it hadn’t even been an hour since prom started.

"Did Roman know you’re drunk and drinking that?" Reid asked, frowning. "Or was he the one who put you up to this?"

Gwendolyn hiccupped again and pouted. "What? No one put me up to this. That jerk is an arrogant, overbearing prick—so the moment I got free of him, I grabbed myself one of these!" She raised her glass triumphantly, as if she’d just discovered the cure for stupidity.

Reid sighed. "You should stop drinking and go home, Gwen. You cannot handle alcohol. You can’t even handle low-percent alcoholic wine. Do you remember last year when you had a sip of cooking sherry and started reciting the quadratic formula like it was slam poetry?"

"Don’t be such a party pooper, Reid. Come on, let’s dance!" She reached for his hand, but he took a step back like she was a contagious disease.

"I’d rather not," he said flatly.

Before Gwendolyn could protest, a sharp voice cut through the noise of the prom.

"Hey!"

Reid barely had time to react before Roman stormed toward them, his jaw clenched and his fists tight at his sides. His tuxedo was slightly undone at the top, giving him that classic bad boy who doesn’t actually own a tie clip look. His eyes darted between Reid and Gwendolyn, narrowing into a glare.

"What the fuck are you doing with my woman?!"