"Teaching me how to fight?" I responded, raising my eyebrow.

"That's what I said... you aren't that bright are you?" Jeremy responded.

I ignored him, turning to Mr. Heywood. He gestured me towards him. I moved around Jeremy and walked up to him.

"Why do I need to know how to fight?" I asked him. "I mean, I know some basics but..."

"In case something like the other night happens and for some reason I'm not there to save you," Mr. Heywood explained, flicking my forehead. "I don't want to see you get seriously injured because of me."

"I'm not sure if fighting against them is the smartest idea though," I responded honestly. "Won't it just give them more of a reason to come after me?"

Jeremy scoffed. "They have reason enough already. Haven't you got into a mix with them twice already? Just knowing you know Chris is enough for them."

I frowned. That's what they said about Lance when I had told them to leave him alone the other night. What kind of people were these gangsters? Why did they hate Mr. Heywood so much?

"Mr. Heywood," I started, looking up at him.

"Chris," he corrected me.

"Chris," I said, frowning. "What exactly did you do to make them hate you so much?"

Mr. Heywood suddenly tensed, his fists tightening. "I told you already, didn't I? I left the gang."

"That's obviously not the only thing you did!"

"It is, now shut up about it."

"I'll shut up when you tell me the truth!" I argued, stepping in front of him. "Just tell me."

"Drop it, Holly."

"No!"

"Yes, now let's go," Mr. Heywood ordered, putting a hand on my shoulder, and pushing me forwards.

"I'm not going anywhere until you tell me," I responded boldly.

Mr. Heywood rolled his eyes. "Jeremy, grab her and take her out the back. I'll go meet you at my house."

"Will do," Jeremy responded, appearing behind me and grabbing me. "Let's go, kid."

"No," I said firmly, keeping my ground. "I want to know why they hate Mr. Heywood so much and why, otherwise I'm not moving anywhere."

"Chris," Jeremy corrected me, putting his hands on my waist. "Now let's go."

He suddenly hoisted me off my feet and over his shoulder. I gasped, flailing my arms widly. Jeremy chuckled, placing a hand on my lower back to keep my steady.

"Let me go!" I demanded, struggling against him. "This could be considered kidnap! Chris!"

Mr. Heywood looked at me with an amused expression. "Yes, Ms. Evers?"

"Tell him to let me go!"

"Will you willingly come along then?"

I hesitated, scowling at him. "Yes..."

Mr. Heywood chuckled. "Sure you will. Go on Jeremy. And watch your hand."

Jeremy laughed. "Okay."

Jeremy left the room with me in tow. I struggled to get out of his grasp. He chuckled at my fruitless attempts.

"What is up with adults thinking I can't walk by myself?" I growled, giving up.

"Technically, I'm not an adult."

"How old are you?"

"Twenty," Jeremy responded simply.

"That's close enough. You can be considered an adult at eighteen,' I told him, looking around to make sure no one was in the hallways.

"But technically, you're considered an adult at twenty-one, and you can drink at that age."

"Why does that matter?"

Jeremy laughed, turning a corner in the hallway. He looked behind him for a second, and then put me down. "What Chris doesn't know won't hurt him, so don't run away."

"I won't run away," I responded, frowning slightly.

"Good, now hurry, I want to beat Chris to his house."

Jeremy grabbed my upper arm and began jogging out of the building. I stumbled along, trying to keep up with him. His strides were longer and quicker, so I had to basically run to. We came to what I assumed to be his car, and he gestured for me to get in and buckle. I did so, and he got in, and not even five seconds later he was peeling out of the parking lot.

I looked over at Jeremy warily. "Don't tell me..."

He grinned back, shifting gears. "We are so going to beat him."

Fifteen terrifying minutes later, we pulled into Mr. Heywood's apartment's parking lot. Jeremy pulled into a parking spot and shut off the car. I stayed seated for a few moments, one hand still gripping the cup holder, the other holding onto the dash.

"That... was scary," I finally said, turning to look at Jeremy with wide eyes. "You drive like a maniac! I'm pretty sure we were over the speed limit the whole time!"

"I took back streets," Jeremy responded with a wave on the hand.

"It's still dangerous!"

"We are fine!"

My door suddenly opened and I turned to see Mr. Heywood frowning down at us.

"Holly, what's wrong?"

"I am never driving with Jeremy again," I told him, swinging my legs out the door so I could get out.

Mr. Heywood chuckled, moving out of the way. I heard Jeremy sigh deeply behind me.

"How did you get here so fast?" he huffed, crossing his arms. "I swear you left after us."

Mr. Heywood smirked. "Who used to win all the street races?"

"Street races?" I gasped, looking between the two.

"Forget it, let's go inside and get started," Mr. Heywood said, brushing me off. "I have somewhere to go at five."

The three of us trooped inside, and then up the stairs to Mr. Heywood's apartment. He took out his key and unlocked the door, gesturing us inside first. I went in eagerly. It was my third time being to his apartment, but it was still just as exciting.

"Holly, make me some coffee," he ordered.

I turned to him with a skeptical look. "This is your house."

He raised an eyebrow. "And?"

I scowled at him for a moment, but went to his kitchen anyway. I didn't even know where the coffee was!

"Stupid teacher," I muttered, opening the pantry and locating the can of coffee.

Five minutes later, I returned to the living room with three steaming mugs of coffee. I did my best to keep my smirk hidden as I placed Mr. Heywood's cup in front of him. I added an extra little surprise into his. I went back into the kitchen to grab the container of half and half I found in his fridge and the sugar jar.

I watched as Mr. Heywood poured unnecesary amounts of sugar and half and half into his cup. A habit I know found sort of cute. I blushed, looking down at my own cup and putting a few carefully measured spoonfuls of sugar. When I looked back up, Mr. Heywood was raising his cup to his mouth.

I couldn't help the smirk from spreading to my face as the cup pressed against his lips. He took a long drink, and to my surprise and disappointment, didn't even make a face. He let out a sigh and placed the cup back on the ground. When he caught me staring he raised an eyebrow.

"What?"

I frowned. "Nothing..."

Surely the tobasco sauce and salt I added to his cup would have made some difference. Or was he just sucking it up because he didn't want to let me know he'd been tricked?

Suddenly there was a gagging to my right and I looked to see Jeremy looking at his cup in disgust. He looked at me, his eyes narrowing.

"Just because I drove fast in the car doesn't mean you have to poison me!"

I gaped at him, trying not to laugh, but at the same time feeling bad. "I'm sorry! I don't know."

"Ugh," he groaned, covering his mouth. "I think I'm going to be sick... I need some water to wash this taste away."

He stood up and went into the kitchen. I heard the running of water and the clink of a glass being taken from the cupboard. I looked at Mr. Heywood who was innocently sipping his coffee. I sighed inwardly and picked up my own, taking a sip.

My eyes widened and I gagged instantly, doing my best to swallow the bilge in my mouth. Mr. Heywood looked at me curiously, a smirk slipping onto his face. I blushed and looked away.

How he had managed to slip whatever he did into my drink- it tasted like mustard- I didn't know, but I wasn't going to let him have the glory of tricking me. I wouldn't let him know.

Five seconds later, my resolve dissolved and I rushed to the kitchen, grabbing Jeremy's water out of his hand and quickly taking a sip, gargling and spitting it out.

"You don't screw with the master," I heard Mr. Heywood's voice float into the kitchen.

I lowered my head in defeat. He'd gotten me.

"Right, so show me how to make a fist," Mr. Heywood said, when we were all settled with fresh cups of cofee ten minutes later."

I frowned, holding out my hand. I clenched my fist, tucking my thumb between my middle finger and pointer finger. Jeremy snorted, bowing his head in silent laughter. I frowned at him.

"What?"

"Holly... how did you manage to punch those guys before with a fist like that?" Mr. Heywood said with a sigh. "Come here."

I moved myself over to the other side of the couch, where Mr. Heywood grabbed my hand, unclenching it. I blushed slightly at the contact, but tried to shake it away quickly. Mr. Heywood folded my fingers into a fist again, and then placed my thumb over my over my pointer and middle fingers.

"If you tuck your thumb, it will be easily broken," Mr. Heywood informed me. "Even if it's someone like you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Punch me," Mr. Heywood said.

"What?"

"Punch me," he repeated, rasing an eyebrow. "Surely you know what that means."

"I do, but why?" I responded, looking at him crazily.

"I want to see how hard you can punch. Do it, you won't hurt me, I promise."

He stood up and then forcefully pulled me to my feet. I scowled at him for a moment, yanking my arm out of his grasp.

"Well, you asked for it."

Using as much force I could I brought back my arm and then brought it forward, aiming to land a forceful hit on his chest. Before my eyes could catch what was happening, Mr. Heywood blocked my fist with his hand in ease. I blinked as he curled his hand around my fist.

"Well, you have some force," he commented, releasing my fist.

I pulled my hand back and frowned at him. "Teaching me how to fight won't help me win against whovever I'm fighting if I lack skill."

Mr. Heywood looked at me in surprise for a second, and then his face turned serious. "Holly, I'm teaching you how to defend yourself and be able to make a getaway. I don't want you even trying to take on anyone, that's too dangerous. If you aren't able to contact me, call Jeremy, or even the police if you have to."

"Whoa, no, I can't get involved with the police. My mom will flip!"

"It's better that than you dead," Mr. Heywood responded in a hard voice.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "So what are your tips for running away then?"

Mr. Heywood's face softened and he nodded his head. "There's a few key things to know if they try to attack you while fleeing- which they undoubtably will."

Jeremy rolled his eyes and propped his feet up on the coffee table. "I still say we just let her fight them."

"I'd be killed," I stated, frowning. "I don't even want to delude myself into thinking I could take on a gangster..."

Mr. Heywood nodded, sending a glare at Jeremy. "The most important thing is keeping you safe."

"How much do you know about fighting?" Jeremy cut in, looking at me curiously.

"I've watched a few movies," I responded, furrowing my eyebrow. "I know right hooks, left hooks, uppercuts..."

Jeremy looked impressed. "Anything else?"

"I took Karate for awhile when I was younger."

Jeremy looked at me in surprise then to Mr. Heywood. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place!"

I stared at him in confusion. "What difference does it make? That won't help me now!"

"The point is that you know some things, which means we only have to give you some advice the deals with fleeing or defending!"

Mr. Heywood cleared his throat. "Speaking of which, may I get started now?"

Jeremy grinned and nodded. "Aye, aye, sir."

"Let's start with punching. If you feel the need that you have to fight back, and by have to, I mean have to," Mr. Heywood started, putting emphasis on his words, "aim for the nose and lips."

I stared at him, blanking in surprise. "What? Why? The head is where it'd hurt--"

"You could easily break the smaller bones in your hand or collaspse your knuckle," Mr. Heywood explained. "Especially if you're a girl. The nose is the best spot. The temples, then the throat, and moving lower aim for the kidneys."

I raised my hand. Mr. Heywood's expression became amused for a moment and he smirked.

"Yes, Ms. Evers?"

"What do I do if my hands are... unable to be used," I said, wording my sentence awkwardly. "Like if they were holding my arms or something."

"Kick," Jeremy responded simply. "You're a girl. It shoudld be in your nature to kick violently if some man has his hands on you when it's not wanted."

Mr. Heywood nodded. "Kicking is correct. However, don't aim for the head."

"Why not?"

"They may be aiming to kill you, but I highly doubt you want a murder on your hands."

My eyes widened slightly, and I shook my head. "No..."

"Good because killing someone never leads to good things, right Chris?" Jeremy added, nudging Mr. Heywood in the shoulder.

Mr. Heywood shot him a glare before rolling his eyes. "Everyone knows that."

I frowned. "Yeah..."

"If you fall on the ground, roll," Mr. Heywood said, turning his attention back to me again. "Trust me when I say, they will not hesitate to kick you will you're down... or stomp on you."

I winced at the mental image in my head. "Will do..."

A phone ringing suddenly pierced the silence and Mr. Heywood stood up abruptly. He pulled his phone out of his pocket and looked at the caller ID.

"I'll be right back," he muttered, glaring at the phone before turning and going out into the hall way.

Jeremy and I exchanged curious looks, but I shrugged it off. Mr. Heywood always seemed to be chatting to someone on the phone. And he usually didn't end the call in a good mood. Jeremy patted my shoulder.

"I don't know about you, but I think Chris should just stick to teaching Biology. His... quote-unquote teaching about fighting isn't very good in my opinion."

"Eh," I muttered not in agreement, but no in disagreement either.

"Tell you what, I'll teach you some things on my own," Jeremy offered. "So you'll be better prepared. But you can't tell Chris."

"Why not?"

Jeremy smiled slightly. "I don't think he'd be happy about it. He's such a mother hen when it comes to you. I don't think I've seen Chris this worried over anything."

I looked down at my lap. "Like a mother worries over her childen, huh..."

Jeremy abruptly started laughing, and ruffled my hair. "No. A man worrying for someone he cares about."

I blushed and shook my head. "Not in that way!"

Jeremy smirked. "Oh, so you like him in 'that way'?"

"I don't love him!"

"Whoever said I was talking about love?" Jeremy responded, his smirk growing wider. "This is just too cute. You guys will make a great couple!"

I blushed harder and glared at him. "It's obvious he doesn't like me like that."

"I think he does."

"You're stupid then," I told him.

I did not want to get my hopes up. And after all, I was still a high school girl while he was an adult.

"You don't know him like I do," Jeremy responded. "I think you'd be good for him... especially because of how his life has been like up until now."

I looekd back up at Jeremy, who was frowning now. "What do you mean?"

"I mean that--"

The door opened and before I realized what was happening, Jeremy pulled me into a deep hug. I blushed, trying to get away.

"What are you doing?"

"Making him jealous."

I heard footsteps across the floor, and then they stopped behind me. I swallowed nervously, trying to slide my way out of Jeremy's grasp.

"I was gone not even five minutes, and you throw yourself on here?" Mr. Heywood asked, grabbing my shoulders and forcibly yanking me away from Jeremy.

I stumbled and fell back into his chest, blsuhing once again. Mr. Heywood steadied me before letting me go. I looked up at him and he thew a disapproving look to Jeremy.

"Can I trust you to take her home? Or will you attack her in the car?"

"I might," Jeremy said with a smirk on his face.

"I don't have time for this," Mr. Heywood snapped, glaring at the man. "Yes or no."

Jeremy sighed. "Yes. What's got you all hyped up? A date?"

Mr. Heywood smirked. "Something along those lines..."

Jeremy blanked and I froze.

Mr. Heywood had a date?