When Perfect Meets Crazy

Chapter 21: 20 - You arrested who now?

“You’re unusually aggressive today.” He panted, retreating under the force of my blows.

“I’m feeling aggressive today,” I ground out, catching him in the side with perfectly aimed kick.

He stumbled backwards, clutching his side even as a smile spread across his face.

“You’re also unusually careless today,” he pointed out.

To illustrate his point, he dropped into a crouch and swept my feet out from under me in one smooth

calculated move. I fell with an audible thud, air escaping my lungs in one swift whoosh.

“Ahh.” I grimaced, rolling onto my side, waiting for the pain to subside.

I filled up my lungs with a deep breath and braced myself for the pain that would come with getting up.

“What’s wrong?” Parker asked, offering me a hand up.

“Nothing.” I slapped the hand away, forced myself to my feet and fell into position. “Let’s go again.”

He blinked, one part surprise and two parts amusement blossoming on his face. “Really?”

I responded with three quick consecutive blows. All of which, infuriatingly enough, he managed to

dodge.

“Something is definitely up.” He grinned, dancing just out of my reach. How I had never noticed how

annoying he could be was beyond me. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this keyed up.”

“Well, enjoy your front row ticket.” I hissed, launching myself at him.

How infuriating. I was on the mat again in less than two minutes.

“You’re being sloppy,” he stated, helping me to my feet.

I gritted my teeth.

“And for the love of God, your footwork is better than that. Stop giving yourself away and stage your

attacks better,” he added, falling to sparring stance again.

“I did not come for a sparring lesson. I came to vent so thank you, but kindly lay off the advice,” I

snapped, baring my teeth in a snarl.

As soon as the words were out, as soon as my brain properly processed what I said, I gasped, slapping

a boxing gloved hand across my face.

“Dammit.” I raised my face skyward, roughly brushing away the tendrils that had escaped my bun as I

drew in a deep centering breath. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t--”

“Hey,” he said, lips curing upwards in a smile. “I’m not offended. Chill out.”

I looked at him. Really looked at him. At his short blond hair, his electric blue eyes, his pretty boy jaw

and the fond, open smile on his lips. There wasn’t a single hint of malice on him. I breathed a sigh of

relief and smiled back, the tension in my shoulders easing just a little.

“Clearly, I’m not having a good day so tell me, what’s been going on with you?” I asked.

“The downtown robbery cases have the whole station on edge but the mood has improved a little

recently.”

“Big bust?”

“Yeah, members of an illegal gambling circuit. Apparently, they bet on unsanctioned boxing matches

but, other than that, it’s been pretty quiet at the station,” he answered. “Want to go again? Maybe tell

me what’s bothering you while we’re at it?”

My brain completely stopped processing his words after ‘they bet on unsanctioned boxing matches.’ A

sudden chill took hold of me.

“Unsanctioned boxing matches?” My voice sounded hollow and far away, even to my ears.

I prayed he wouldn’t notice.

“Hmmm.” He nodded and gestured for me to come at him.

I swallowed, frozen in place.

“Boxing matches?” I stupidly repeated. “Like illegal boxing?”

“Yes,” he answered, cocking his head to the side as he regarded me curiously. “What?”

I blinked. Content is © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“Nothing.” I stiffly fell into position, pasting a smile on my lips even as my imagination mentally ran

away with my common sense.

Masked Idiot. It had been over a week now since I last saw him. He just disappeared. Him and the

creepy gaze I always felt following me on the days he wasn’t physically within my sights. I had

assumed it was because he finally got the message; that I wasn’t some spy. He definitely could’ve

informed me of the revelation before wilfully disappearing but what if he wasn’t gone because he

believed me? What if it was because he got caught? Because he was in jail? What if that was why he

had been MIA?

I swallowed.

For some reason, the idea offered very little comfort or relief. I, oddly, was more comforted that he

hadn’t stayed away of his volition than I was by the fact that his incarceration would mean he was no

longer a problem for me.

I needed a good blow to the head. Clearly some screws up there weren’t properly keyed in.

“That’s crazy,” I said as casually as I could manage. “How old were they?”

“They didn’t give up much but the ones we got hold of have all done time before. All in their early 30s.

One late 20s. 28,” he divulged.

My breath left me in a soundless sigh and relief spread through me like sinking into a hot bath after a

long day. I could breathe properly again. There was no way Masked Idiot was up to 28 years of age.

“Yeah?” I intoned, hitting my gloved hands together to signify that I was ready.

Parker nodded and gestured for me to make the first move. I immediately went in.

“Are you really not going to tell me what’s up with you?” he questioned, smoothly parrying my blows.

It would’ve been far more annoying how easy it was for him to dodge my attacks if I didn’t know for a

fact that he was possibly the most skilled cop at the station and that I was being a little sloppy with my

attacks. Even I could spot the amateur mistakes I was making with my footwork and form. Masked

Idiot’s absence, as much as I hated to admit it, was messing with my focus. A lot.

It wasn’t like I wanted him to stay but he should’ve at least told me if he was never going to show up

again. It was simple courtesy. Disappearing without a word was such a rude thing to do. The last thing I

remembered was eating pizza and telling him Olly was out for a sleepover. He should’ve at least

showed up the following day to check if I was feeling better. That was just the normal and the polite

way to do things. I wasn’t being irrational. Logically, that was what was expected of him.

I cursed under my breath, narrowly avoiding taking a blow to the face.

“Let’s call it a day.” I gave in.

• • •

“Are you really kicking back with us tonight?” Zach asked skeptically.

I rolled my eyes.

“I said I was.”

“Well, you’re always off with the girls these days and your 19 different jobs. We’ve hardly hung out

lately.” He shrugged.

Aaron nodded on his right, passing the joint to the boy on his other side.

I frowned.

“Well,” I leaned forward, “I’m all about the boys tonight so go ahead. Get me high through passive

smoking.”

Zach smirked. It was soft and kind in a way that smirks rarely ever were. It informed me that he really

had missed my company. I smiled back, my nose scrunching up as a warm fuzzy feeling filled my

chest. My friends, my real friends, were really important to me even though they didn’t know it. If you

asked them, they would probably say I didn’t care as much. That they cared more. I wasn’t big on

showing it but they mattered a lot. They made me laugh every now and then when we got to really kick

back. It meant a lot.

“So,” Zach slung his arm around my shoulders and pulled me in to his side, “want to hear the new play

I came up with?”

I bit my lip to keep from smiling as the guys in our small circle let out a collective groan.

“Do I have to?” I moaned, playing along.

While the ‘girls’ as Zach put it and most of the other partygoers were inside Lim’s house chatting and

drinking, Zach, Aaron, the other people willing to gamble with their lungs and I were out on the patio

either actively or passively smoking.

It was a mid-week party which I normally would not have gone to but I didn’t really feel like being home

alone tonight. Olly was working hard on her violin piece all the time these days, our dad was still

working late thanks to the unsolved robbery case and our mom still hadn’t returned from her trip. Turns

out, things weren’t going so great over there.

Anyway, staying home would’ve meant more time agonizing over Masked Idiot’s disappearance. I just

didn’t get it. It didn’t make sense unless he had gotten caught and was in jail. The least he could’ve

done was let me know in advance if he was going to pull a disappearing act. He should have officially

terminated our stalking agreement. We even signed a contract and everything. He should’ve informed

me if it was over. The possibility that he disappeared because something bad happened to him was

eating at me. What was I supposed to do if that was the case? Call the cops and reveal everything? Or

not call them and save my ass? What if he really was in danger?

I muttered a curse under my breath and downed what was left of my beer. Damn you, Masked Idiot.

“What’s been up with you anyway?” Zach asked, gently nudging my elbow.

“Hmmm?” I looked up, distracted. “What?”

“You’ve been off lately. What’s going on?” he expanded.

I frowned, nibbling on my lower lip as I contemplated how much to not reveal.

“I... made a bad decision.”

“Yes! You don’t do enough of that,” Aaron chipped in, pupils a little too dilated.

I shook my head exasperatedly even as a smile spread across my lips.

“What did you do?” Zach asked more seriously, leaning into me as he reached over to pass the joint to

the guy on my other side.

His perfume engulfed me and I got a peek through the neckline of his shirt. My breath hitched. He

definitely was an athlete. What I saw was toned and defined. Coach must be proud.

“What did you do?” he repeated as he moved out of my personal space.

The urge to pettily pinch him for invading my space gripped me. I drew in a much needed breath to

steady myself.

I clenched my fists at my sides. Calm down.

I glanced around the circle, taking in the curious gazes directed my way. I could more or less hear the

‘what bad decision could Avy Johnson possibly have made?’

“I went somewhere,” I disclosed in a stage whisper. “Somewhere I shouldn’t have gone.”

I threw in an exaggerated wink and smiled inwardly as I watched their imaginations immediately jump

to nightclub and scenarios involving fake IDs. Body language was the master of all lying techniques. It

was like deceiving with the truth and I was a master of the art.