When Perfect Meets Crazy

Chapter 10: 10 - Inclined towards sophisticated wit

“How did you learn to type so fast?”

I jolted, my heart jumping to my throat. The book I had been about to place on the shelf clattered to the

ground.

“Jesus Christ!” I hissed, mentally willing my pounding heart to calm down. “Do not sneak up on me like

that.”

As the heat of the moment passed, a twinge of panic born of the knowledge that I hadn’t heard him

arrive, much less creep up on me settled in my chest. If he wanted, he could have hurt me before I

even got a chance to react. How is he even quiet with those unnecessarily long limbs?

I still had a few minutes before the end of my shift and although, I was gradually getting used to him

randomly showing up, it still set me on edge.

“First things first,” I said, forcing myself to take calming breaths. “Where’s the contract?”

“How did you get so fast with your fingers?” he reiterated, closing the small gap between us. “I asked

first.”

“I’m sure that came out dirtier than you meant it to,” I replied, stepping back to put much needed space

between us again. “And technically, I asked first. Two days ago. When I gave you the contract.”

“Technically.” He drawled the word out condescendingly. “I get precedence because I don’t trust you

which I made very clear a long time ago.”

I flashed him an unimpressed look before bending to pick up the fallen book.

“Are you really trying to outsmart me right now?” My tone conveyed incredulous amusement. “Haven’t

we already established that even drained, crying and with a headache, I can still outwit you? Seriously,

don’t embarrass yourself.”

If eyes could shoot, I’d be riddled with bullet holes.

“Glaring like that isn’t going to change anything,” I pointed out. “Which reminds me, what did your

lawyer say? About the contract?”

I didn’t think it was possible but his scowl darkened dramatically. It went from ‘I want to kill you’ to ‘I will

decimate you and everything you care about.’

“I take it he was impressed,” I deduced.

“It was okay,” he bit out.

“Okay?” I scoffed. “You’re looking at me like you’d like to teach me a lesson or two in a dark alley. You

don’t do that for just ‘okay’. Come on, just admit it was spectacular.”

His nostrils flared.

“It didn’t have any mistakes. You win,” he gritted out, his gaze trained on the opposite shelf above my

head.

I knew he definitely wasn’t interested in horticulture so it had to be something else. Some other reason

why he couldn’t meet my gaze.

“I more than win, don’t I? He loved me, didn’t he? What did he say? I want his exact words.”

Mother of all shockers, I found out he wasn’t at scowling capacity yet because his scowl darkened even

further. Enough that I was starting to debate the wisdom of goading him in a remote aisle.

I took a step back reflexively.

“He offered you a job.” The words were forced out of jaws so tightly clenched it was a surprise they

were audible at all.

His revelation was followed by a sharp bark of laughter from yours truly. In my defence, I couldn’t help

myself. What was I supposed to do? Not laugh? It was too precious.

“That had to have burned,” I goaded.

“Can we get back to the question about your typing now?” His gaze remained fixed just above my head

as an embarrassed blush made its way up his neck.

“Sure,” I acquiesced. “But you signed it, right?”

There was no point if it wasn’t signed.

He nodded reluctantly.

“Doesn’t mean I trust you to honor it. I just signed it as an extra layer of protection since it nullifies your

testimony and stuff. For the record, I’m still going to follow you around. The problem isn’t you talking to

the cops, it’s you talking to... other people.”

‘Other people’? Seriously?

I held out my hand for the contract, stifling the urge to roll my eyes. At least he signed it. I could work

with that. Take that, voodoo doll witch.

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed that you keep skirting my question.” The chill in his voice could’ve

competed impressively against the seventh circle of hell.

I stiffened at his tone a light shiver running down my spine as I looked up from the contract.

“Feeling threatened by my superior gaming skills?” My tone was light and forced. A failed attempt to

lighten the mood.

He ignored my generous olive branch.

“Your skills are good but your hands are very fast. And for someone who’s bent on keeping it a secret,

you’re irritatingly proud of your gaming skills,” he said in a snippy tone.

“I don’t see what one thing has to do with the other,” I answered congenially.

I was being kind, magnanimous even, with this second bone but that had more to do with the fact that

we were slightly secluded from the rest of the library and for the first time ever, he actually seemed like

a criminal.

“A hacker is fast. Like you,” he insinuated, letting the sentence hang accusatory between us.

I rolled my eyes exaggeratedly. Oh please. The story there wasn’t even that interesting.

“I used to help my mom with her work when I was much younger. Like when I was in elementary

school,” I began.

My list of crimes could very easily be counted on one hand with fingers to spare; Olly and drag racing,

Olly and the underground fighting syndicate and that other thing I was going take to my grave. Not the

underwear incident. This was a different to-my-grave secret. One that no amount of alcohol at any

college rave would get out of me. That was all. All my crimes. I would never try hacking. If I got caught

hacking, my parents would kill me. If they lost face in front of their friends because of me, I would be

finished.

“She’d bring home case files she was done with and assign us tasks. My sister and I. It was supposed

to be educative and probably get us interested in law. She started off giving us fun tasks like

highlighting all call logs to a specific phone number and things like that.”

Since the contract had been signed and delivered, I had no issue with satisfying his curiosity. That and

I had no choice.

I placed the next book in its appropriate spot then moved on to the next aisle, pushing the cart ahead of

me. Masked Idiot trailed closely behind.

“It was fun at the beginning. Like playing a work version of dress-up.” My lips curved up in a wistful grin.

In my periphery, I caught him rolling his eyes.

“A little while later, the company hit a rough patch. The company itself was facing a lawsuit. Cases

weren’t coming in as much and a lot of their clients were jumping ship so they had to let some

employees go. My mom wasn’t high up on the chain back then so her secretary had to go too. Her

workload increased so she started giving us real work. Cases she was still working on. It was probably

a breach of confidentiality but...” I shrugged unapologetically.

He nodded slowly, almost carefully in a way that had me doubting if he truly understood.

“At first, she used to crosscheck but she was usually too busy typing up her reports to spend time

worrying about us. Especially since there were almost never any mistakes. I didn’t make any and I

used to correct Olly’s before we gave them to her. Though in Olly’s defence, she only made very, very

few mistakes.”

“I’m not seeing the connection to the question I asked,” he said.

“I’m getting there.” I rolled my eyes. “Back then, we were too young to cook so I started helping her

type up her notes whenever she was busy in the kitchen or taking a bath, stuff like that.”

She never explicitly told me to do it but I could tell she was swamped and I wanted to lighten her load.

It was my cursed caregiver instincts acting up, even at that age.

“Anyway,” I carried on, pausing to slip another book into its appropriate slot. “She used to crosscheck

that too at first but she soon realized I wasn’t the type to make mistakes. I was a bit slow. I mean, I was

a child so yeah, I was slow.”

I couldn’t help the instinctual urge to defend myself even though rationally, I knew I had no reason to do

so, especially to a criminal who had shown an above average inclination for idiocy but it had been

hammered into my head since I was a kid. I had to be excellent at everything. Always. Defending

young me who didn’t instantly become an expert at typing wasn’t an urge I could curb.

“But I never made mistakes so she let me. Started asking me to do it even.”

I never made mistakes. I wasn’t that girl. I was the girl who people would look at and say, ‘how is she

so perfect all the damn time?’ I always did everything perfectly. It’s all I knew. My mom had drummed

into my head how crucial perfection was that I constantly felt like I couldn’t afford to be any less.

I sighed wearily. Mission failed, mum. I made the worst mistake ever.

“What?” he questioned, suspicion coating his tone as he took in my forlorn expression.

“You,” I answered tiredly. “You’re the one speck of imperfection in my perfect little life.”

He frowned.

“Anyway,” I pasted a smile on my face and forged on, “that’s how I started typing and now, I’m fast at

it.”

“Sometimes you seem like you’re just a law abiding straight ‘A’ student.”

“I am just a law abiding straight ‘A’ student.” It came out more hopeless that I intended so I added, “I

don’t like being defined by it but yes, I’ve been a straight ‘A’ student since birth.”

Yes, I was deflecting and yes, it was a textbook defence mechanism. Sue me. Humor, bringing joy and

masking hurt since 128B.C.

“Your humility is a model to us all.” He rolled his eyes. “You’re practically a saint.”

“Happy to be of help.” I bowed.

“You know,” he began, “for someone who doesn’t want to be defined by her academic success, you’re

quite the smartass and super fucking proud too.”

“Of course, I am proud of it. People work really hard to get good grades.”

“People?” He arched one bushy eyebrow. “Admitting that you study hard is not such a smear.”

“I don’t,” I answered candidly. “School comes easy to me. I didn’t even always know that school was

supposed to be hard.”

His face scrunched up in a confused frown.

“What do you mean you didn’t always know?”

“I just didn’t know.” I shrugged. “As crazy as that sounds. I thought...”

I glanced at the ceiling, then back to him, absently wondering why I was humoring him by answering.

Yet, I still felt the need to do it.

“I don’t know. I thought everybody was like me or just pretending because they wanted to. Because

they were lazy. Anyway,” I shook my head, regaining control of myself, “it’s not important. What I was

trying to say is that I don’t see what that has to do with not wanting to be defined by it. This is why

people feel the need to have safe spaces. Because I don’t want to be defined by something doesn’t

mean I should have to hide it or be humble about it.”

He remained silent, eyeing me with distrust.

“And for the smart ass bit, I prefer the term ‘heavily inclined towards sophisticated wit’.”

He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “Of course you do.”

I pressed my lips into a thin line to hold back a smile.

“Here,” I shoved a stack of books into his arms, “go arrange those.”

“I’m not here to--”

“The longer it takes me to finish this, the longer we stay here.”

“Fine,” he huffed.

“Finally!” he exaggerated, stretching his arms above his head.

I rolled my eyes. If he was so bored, here was an idea; stop fricking following me around.

“Here’s the deal, my tutoring job is today and I’m not taking you in with me.”

His eyes narrowed, suspicion filling his gaze.

“Why not?”

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. If I really had something to hide, I wouldn’t stupidly give it away by

telling him. I was much much smarter than that. If I wanted to fool him, I damn well could and he

wouldn’t suspect a thing. He needed to calm the heck down.

“Because his parents are friends with mine and they could tell my parents about you.”

“I’m coming with,” he stubbornly insisted, eyes flashing.

“You’re welcome to do that but just know that you’ll be standing outside until I’m done. And when you

can look into who stays there later, you’ll find out that it’s a harmless upstanding family.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He grunted.

“Have at it. Feel free to lose track of me on the way.”

“You wish.”

He must’ve thought I was joking about having him stand outside. I certainly didn’t give him any reason

to think so but when we got there and I waved him away, he blanched.

“Go,” I ordered.

“But...”

“But nothing. Your presence here can make it to my parents’ ears. I’m taking that risk. Go away.

Disappear.”

“You expect me to stand out in the sun for an hour?” he inquired incredulously, switching tactics.

“An hour and a half,” I corrected, arms folded across my chest. “Give or take. And I don’t care what you

do. Feel free to stand, sit or lounge if you so please.”

“You can’t be serious.” He scoffed.

“What exactly is giving you joke time?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“The idea,” he exploded, throwing his hands in the air, “is a complete joke.”

“Which part?” I calmly questioned. “Because I’m not seeing it.”

“The part where I stand outside.”

“You can sit. Lie down. Do whatever you like.”

“That’s not the point!”

“I don’t have time to debate the point. Go. Now. You can explain yourself later.” Published by Nôv'elD/rama.Org.

“After standing outside for ninety minutes?” he countered incredulously.

“You’re going to do it even if we debate it now,” I bit back harshly. “It’s not like I’m going to lose an

argument to you.”

He must have not processed the last part well because he actually went on to try to argue the point

with me. Idiot. I scoffed inwardly.

“I’m investigating you. I’m meant to follow you everywhere until I’m satisfied you’re not some secret

spy. The fact that you’re so bent on keeping me out of there is very suspicious.”

Suspicious? I literally just told you why.

He must have mistaken my temporary silence for concession because he was already drumming up his

victory smirk. Cue my infamous eye roll. Had he been not listening? I’d never lose to him. Or anyone

but my mom and even that was only a matter of time. By the time I was done at Harvard, even Harvey

Specter would have nothing on me. Although he was only a fictional lawyer.

“First,” I cut him off, closing the distance between us until I could see the tiny flecks of gold in his coffee

coloured eyes. The smell of his expensive cologne surrounded me. A distant part of my mind noticed

that the green of his shirt really brought out his eyes. “Don’t threaten me. Ever.”

He blinked.

“Second, if there’s a second thing we’ve established so far, the first being that you have a high

propensity for idiocy, it’s that your investigative people-reading skills are absolute rubbish. When I left

the arena that day, never seeing you for the rest of my life would’ve been too soon. You’re investigating

a straight ‘A’ student who wants nothing to do with you, yet you think you’re Sherlock.” My tone was

biting. “If he was anything like you, none of his books would’ve sold half as much. Except as maybe

humor. And not the flattering kind.”

He opened his mouth to respond. I held up my index finger, stopping him.

“I’m not done yet. Third, if we hadn’t struck that deal, you wouldn’t be privy to listen in on my

conversations. The only reason I’m letting you is because I think it’ll help you figure out faster that I

have and want nothing to do with your world. Now, I’m temporarily retracting that privilege but if you

keep this up, it’s going to become permanent.”

He scowled, looking the very definition of irritated.

“Is this how you win your debates? No wonder, that guy was gunning for you.”

“No.” My smile was ugly and vicious. “When I debate, I actually put in some work.”

With that parting remark and some choice words from him as background music, I strutted up to the

house.

“For the record, I still crushed Eric,” I called over my shoulder with all the sweetness of a girl’s scout.

“See you in ninety minutes.”

I rapped my knuckles on the door smartly, tapping my foot impatiently while waiting for it to be opened.

The door swung open.

“Hey.” The person on the other side beamed.

“You failed four out of the last assignment I gave you.”

The boy in question rolled his eyes.

“Hey to you too. How’re you doing?” he remarked snidely.

I smirked.

“Hey to you too. How’re you doing?”