Page 135 of Kiss the Villain

The archery range reception has only one staff member. A middle-aged woman with gold-framed glasses eagerly lets me buy a one-day pass and keeps talking about their monthly and yearly memberships, which I cut short. Because I’m not here to talk to her.

After she gives a quick explanation about the facilities and shows me to the locker room, she finally leaves me alone.

I shrug off my coat at record speed and take one of the rental bow and arrows as if I have a clue about archery.

In reality, I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t have asked Jethro to track Gareth down either, but he was pushing it.

He’s been ignoring me for three days, and while that amount was tolerable in the past, now it’s no different than walking around with one lung. It’s suffocating, and I can’t breathe properly.

All the toxins are gathering in my one lung and causing pressure in my chest.

When I tried to text him, he was elusive.

Me

I’ll be home by seven. How about you?

Little Monster

Won’t be coming.

Why?

Because.

Can you elaborate on the reason for this episode?

You should ask yourself.

What have I done?

Something annoying af.

Full words, Carson.

Something annoying AS FUCK.

Language. And what is this annoying thing?

I can’t read your mind so if you don’t tell me, I won’t know.

Carson. If you don’t reply, there will be dire consequences. I will put you on my knee and punish you, are we clear?

He didn’t reply to any of my last texts and he didn’t come over either. He knows I can’t just go knocking on the door of the mansion he shares with his friends. Or grab him by the arm on campus, bend him over on my desk, and fuck him.

Though I did fantasize about that countless times, but it’s too risky. Being a popular professor in college is infuriating because my office is always full of students and other professors.

And while I don’t give a damn about my position, Gareth is a genius student and I don’t want to sabotage his studies.

Fucking ironic, really.

So I tried bribing him with pictures of ripe strawberries, telling him Mom sent them over for him—though, really, I asked her to.

Tonight, I sent him a picture of the package of strawberry-flavored hot chocolate I scoured the internet for since he loves everything with strawberries, but he didn’t see it. And when I called his phone, he didn’t reply. That’s when I asked Jethro for help, and he sent me this location.

I walk into the indoor range, where two other men are practicing, but there’s no trace of Gareth.

He couldn’t have possibly been on the outside range in this fucking weather?—

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