CHAPTER 5 – KEVIN: LOCKED IN!
How could one person be so—so unbelievably sharp, irritatingly precise, and infuriatingly confident? Every fiber of my being wanted to explode. There was no escaping her presence, no pretending to be invisible. I had to deal with her face-to-face, no matter how much I wanted to avoid it.
I met her gaze and slowly removed my glasses, trying to steel myself. "How… how did you know?" I asked, my voice more serious than I intended, my blue eyes locked on hers.
"Simple," she replied, her tone crisp, unflinching. "I'm not an idiot. And don't worry—I don't care about your secret. I don't care about you either."
I blinked, slightly taken aback. Wow. Cool. I could get used to girls like her—direct, fearless, untouchable. No fawning, no gaping at a guy like me. No dramatic first impressions.
A tense silence fell between us, thick and almost tangible, broken only by the sharp click of her heels against the lab floor. Suddenly, without warning, she stormed toward the door, slamming her fists against it, twisting the handle with a force that made the entire lab vibrate. The noise ricocheted off the walls, and my temples throbbed from the racket.
"Shit! I hate being trapped in a place like this!" she screamed, letting loose a torrent of anger that had obviously been simmering since we'd been locked in. I flinched at the volume, my patience fraying.
I couldn't take it any longer. I stepped forward, lowering my voice in an attempt to calm her. "Hey… stop it. Seriously. It won't do anything, and you're only hurting yourself."
She froze, her hands slowly falling to her sides, and we both returned to our seats, the tension lingering in the air like a live wire.
I leaned back, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. "You know… if you were any other kind of girl, I'm pretty sure you'd wish to be stuck here with me forever," I said with a wry smirk, trying to lighten the mood.
"And luckily for you," she replied, cool as ice, "I'm not that kind of girl."
Her words were confident and precise, like every syllable was measured. I raised an eyebrow. "How can I be sure you won't reveal my identity?"
Her gaze flicked to her wristwatch, and I did the same. Thirty minutes until six-thirty. She didn't look at me as she answered. "Simple. I stick to my word."
I couldn't help but be intrigued. She was fearless, unapologetic, and untouchable. I wanted to know more about her, even as my pulse began to quicken in this cramped, locked-up lab.
"Did you notice anyone following you when you came in here?" she asked suddenly, her eyes narrowing slightly.
"Yeah," I admitted, my voice low. "Nikko Larfell."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Damn. I knew it." She kicked the chair beside her with a quiet thud, frustration evident in the movement.
I couldn't stop myself from noticing her again—the black miniskirt, the long, pale legs, the athletic yet undeniably feminine build. She moved with such confidence that it was almost ridiculous. And yet, her demeanor, her gestures, her casual boyishness—everything about her screamed that she didn't care about appearances and didn't follow the usual rules. She was a paradox: perfect in looks, wild in behavior.
"She even dragged you into this," she said, finally breaking her stare. "Tomorrow… he's going to pay. Not for you, but for locking me in here."
"He wants to get even with me," I muttered.
"Why?" she asked, tilting her head slightly, curiosity flickering in her eyes.
"I… bumped into him earlier, and he blamed me for it. He pushed me, and I… I lost control. I punched him. His nose bled, and he ended up with bruises."
Her eyes widened, a mix of shock and amusement crossing her face. "Seriously? You actually did that? I thought you were weak… a coward."
I chuckled, the sound low and wry. "Don't judge a book by its cover."
"I know," she said, smirking slightly. "But… it's inevitable, isn't it?"
The minutes ticked by, slow and torturous. Fifteen more until our liberation. I slid my glasses back on, adjusting them as I watched her with a mixture of admiration and exasperation.
"By the way," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, "don't go easy on me just because you're afraid I'll expose your little secret. I promise… I won't tell a soul."
Her eyes met mine, sharp and unflinching. "I don't want people to act nice just because they're afraid of me. I hate fake people. How did you get away from him anyway?"
"One of the teachers saw what happened and dragged him to the office."
She nodded, her expression unreadable. "Good for him."
Minutes crawled by. My fingers tapped nervously against the edge of the counter. The tension between us was electric, silent yet alive. I couldn't stop myself from stealing glances at her—at the way she moved, the way her lips pressed together in thought, and the way her eyes occasionally flicked to me.
Five minutes… Four… Three… Two… One.
The door creaked and slowly swung open, revealing the maintenance staff. Francine was quick—she approached the woman first, steadying her by the shoulders. "Thank you," she said, her voice calm, measured, yet commanding.
I stepped forward next, offering my own thanks. As I turned to leave, I heard her voice stop me.
"Sir?"
I turned back, raising an eyebrow. "Yes?"
"Are you okay? You weren't hurt?" Her concern was genuine, her tone soft.
"I'm fine," I said, a little taken aback.
Her lips curved into a small, relieved smile. "Good… because Ms. Francine is the most feared student in the school. People… well, they usually end up in fights with her."
I raised an eyebrow, smirking despite myself. "Doesn't seem like it to me. Anyway… I should get going." The day had been long and exhausting, and I was eager to go home, to breathe, to process it all.