Bimbo Builder Academy

What do you say, when you're trying to break up with someone who's perfect for you in pretty much every way?

"Hey, Jules..." I crawled into the bed, ran my hand gently up the sweep of her long leg under the sheets. "Wake up, angel..." My tone was gentle, soothing, even though the voice in my head was ranting and raving and desperate. I couldn't stay with Julia. Not knowing who I was. Knowing I was a liar and a cheater. Knowing that my gorgeous, smart, amazing girlfriend was too good for me.

"Mmm..." she murmured quietly, rustling.

"Hey..." My hand caressed her hip, easily. "I need to talk to you about something..."

I shut down the voice in my head that told me I couldn't. That told me this was

Absolutely the wrong time to be doing this

. I needed to get this off of my chest. I needed it to stop. If I didn't do this now, I wouldn't be able to live with myself. And I wouldn't be able to solve the problem that was the Brighton Barnsworth Academy.

"Morning..." my girlfriend mumbled. "Talk inna morning..." She rolled over, dark hair spilling across her shoulder and over the pillow.

I needed to solve it. I needed to

escape

it. But so long as I was still doubting myself, still tearing myself up from the inside out, I couldn't give the problem my total focus. "I'm sorry, Jules." I shook her gently. "It has to be now." I wasn't going to sit for hours, falling deeper and deeper into my own pit of despair. I wasn't going to wait for her to wake up and walk out and see a strange girl sleeping on our couch.

Sleep...

The idea of sleep was wonderful. I knew I was too tired, that my brain wasn't sharp. But it didn't matter. I was going to have to do this at some point. Might as well be when my brain wasn't all there to bear the full brunt of the pain.

For the first time in months, I wanted a drink. For real.

"What...?" Julia's eyes opened for the first time, blinking sleepily. Her hand came up and rubbed at her face.

Logistics tried to flash across the field of my mind, variables whirling and rearranging themselves. What do you say, when you've messed up so bad you can't go back?

She came up on one elbow. "What's wrong, baby?"

I almost couldn't say anything, when it came down to it. All of my flaws, my massive mistakes, were so wrapped up in the Academy that I couldn't tell Julia about them because of my own conditioning. I knew that. Or, at least, that was what I told myself. Because it meant that I didn't have to tell Julia what I'd done.

My jaw tightened. I took a deep breath, but I don't think I got any air. "Julia..." My tone got her attention and she sat up, tugging the sheets up to her chin. "We... I..."

She furrowed her brows.

"I need to break up with you."

Silence.

I couldn't have surprised her more. Kneeling next to her on the mattress, just wearing my suit jacket and slacks, hand still resting on her hip.

"What?" Her expression was incredulous.

I swallowed. "I can't be with you anymore. We need to break up." I had hoped it would be less painful if I said it again. It was not. It was more painful, instead.

"Mitch... What are you talking about?" She squinted at me like I was insane.

I shook my head. There was something hard stuck in my throat, making it hard to breathe. But no... That was just a lump of pain and regret. "I'm so sorry, Julia. This couldn't wait."

Julia was awake now, her eyes wide and shocked. "I don't understand. I don't... I don't..."

My tongue wet my dry lips. "Just... What I said. We need to break up. I'm... breaking up with you."

Holy crap why did this hurt so much?

"Is there someone else...?" She was biting her lip, nervously. Her face was drawn together, but I don't think it had really hit her yet.

"No!" My voice was sharp as I lied. Again. "No no no... There's no one else." Pause. "I love you, Jules..."

I knew it was wrong as soon as the words left my mouth.

Why did you have to say that?

The voice in my head was back. Couldn't keep it quiet for long.

Idiot. Just making it hurt more.

You

need

to get this done.

"I just... We can't be together."

"What happened?" She was eyeing me suspiciously, like she could tell there was something wrong.

You imbecile. Of course something's wrong.

This

is wrong.

"What's got you so riled up? Was it something at the party? Is that why you felt so awful coming back?" She was smart, sharp, as always. She knew me so well.

Yes,

I wanted to say. Just so I wouldn't have to lie again. "No." I shook my head. "It's... I'm just... I'm not good enough for you."

My girlfriend tried to smile. It was painful. "Silly," she muttered. "You couldn't be more wrong. Besides, you've got to let

me

worry about that."

But I swallowed again, and shook my head. "I'm sorry," I said. It was like there was a rock in my chest, slowly sinking down into my stomach. It hurt my heart as it dragged past, opening up a long, jagged tear.

"You can't just

say

that." My girlfriend was shaking her head now, too. "This doesn't make any sense! What's going on?"

"I'm sorry," I whispered. The rock was crushing my lungs now, making it hard to breathe. Why did I do this now? I wanted to escape, but I had nowhere to go.

"Mitch! Stop it!" Her voice was loud. "Just stop talking." It hurt, and I knew I had to make the pain end. For both of us. I had to end things, but it hurt too much.

Oh...

The idea struck me from nowhere, from the most unexpected source.

"No," Julia reached for my hand. "Wait. Do talk. Explain what's going on. Please..."

"Professor Sands..." I murmured.

Ah...

That was what I needed.

My girlfriend frowned, leaned forward. "What?"

"Professor Sands..."

I whispered, pulling back a little more. The sound of the rustling sheets under my body muffled the sound of my words. The warm, calm, relaxation dulled my mind.

"God damn it, Mitch! What are you doing?" She hit the bed with one hand, punching the pillow where I should have been sleeping.

But it was okay. Things were going to be okay. I would be okay. "I'm sorry, Jules." I pushed back, so there was a little bit of space between us. My voice was even now and I met her eyes, staring into them. I knew my face was expressionless, because I'd made sure to drain all the expression away from it. It was easier now. "I'm going to go... I promise, it will hurt less than if I stay."

"Mitch! Don't you dare move!" Her eyes flickered to my clothes, and she looked confused. Like she wasn't sure if I was planning to just walk out without a shirt, but she wouldn't put it past me.

I stood from the edge of the mattress. "I'm sorry." I grabbed my wallet from the bedside table. My keys were by the door. I could take my keys. My mind was wandering ahead, planning, my pesky feelings no longer in the way.

"Mitch, you bastard. Stay right

here!

I love you and I'm not letting you go for no

fucking

reason!" Julia threw the sheets off her legs and started to stand, but then she froze.

I blinked. Her eyes weren't on me. They were on the doorway.

I spun. Lena was standing outside in the living room, hood down, blonde hair falling around her shoulders.

"Julia..." I turned to see my girlfriend draw back under the sheets, covering her mostly-naked body instinctively.

"Who the

hell

are you?!" My girlfriend's voice was a hard bark. Her eyes darted to me. "Who the

hell

is that?"

Her anger was obvious, but it didn't penetrate the haze that swaddled my mind and my heart. "It's not what you think, Jules..." It was all I could manage, my voice far away. I knew it wasn't the right thing to say. But there were no right things. "I have to go now."

"Mitch! Don't you fucking lie to me... Who the

hell

is that?"

I just shook my head.

This isn't going anywhere...

A mellow, easy voice told me.

Just have to cut your losses. More negatives don't make a positive, you know...

I stuffed my wallet in my pocket. My phone was there, already. I walked out the door, into the living room. It was only slightly better illuminated, moonlight and city lights.

"Mitch!" I heard fumbling behind me, like she was trying to stumble around the room and stab sleepy limbs into cloths.

"Lena," I said quietly as I reached her side. My voice was firm. The girl looked up at me with wide eyes. "Come on." I scooped up the keys to my car.

"Don't you fucking walk out that door, Mitch!"

We walked out. I shut the door behind me. I wasn't sure if she'd follow, but we would be in the car quickly. We would make a swift escape.

"I'm so sorry, Professor Sands..." Lena's voice was worried and tense. But she'd said exactly what I needed to hear.

I blinked. We were in the stairwell.

Right,

I thought.

Faster than the elevator.

In case Julia came after us.

"I didn't mean for this to happen..."

"Hush, Lena." My voice was calm. It sounded far away. Was it echoing, slightly? Maybe because we were out of the stairwell now and in the underground garage. The automatic light blinked on, orange glow on grey concrete. "It's all going to be fine." I held out the keys. "But I need you to drive."

Beep.

The sound of the unlocking car.

Thud.

My door closing behind me.

Click.

Seat belt.

I'm sorry.

Lena had to ask me several times before I looked over and shook my head slightly.

"What?"

"Where are we

going?"

Her expression was tense and frightened.

I shrugged. "Hotel. Away from here. Please drive..."

We were backing out of the garage when Julia shoved through the door. Her dark hair was a mess around her face. She had thrown on a pair of sweats and a bathrobe that had fallen partway open. She saw the car and waved her hands. She was yelling something.

Luckily, we were too far away for me to see if she was crying.

"Professor Sands..."

I muttered quietly to myself as Lena shoved her foot down on the gas pedal and we screeched forward.

"Professor Sands..."

I closed my eyes.

I felt the cold trails of tears on my cheeks. But I couldn't really feel anything else.

Just warm. Relaxed. Easy.

Goodbye...

* * *

I became aware once again, standing in the front room of a hotel suite.

"I'll pay you back," Lena was saying. "I can give you cash. Or Venmo. Or something. But I wasn't going to take us to some sketchy motel. Things are screwed up enough as they are."

The girl was sitting in the middle of the couch, cross-legged, hood down but arms wrapped around her stomach. Like she was cold. But it was so nice and warm in here.

I shook my head and forced myself to focus. There was a dark, painful something that my mind was trying to touch, but I diverted my attention away from that, too. Instead, I looked around. "Oh, wow..." I muttered.

The place was gorgeous. Like the kind of place you stay if you're used to flying first class on airplanes and have a summer beach house on the shores of a distant, exotic island. Usually, I would look at this kind of opulence and see only subtraction — the numbers in my bank account dwindling — but tonight there was a far larger division to think about. The division between me and...

Only I wasn't going to think about that. I was thinking about anything

but

that.

"Professor—"

"Please," I interrupted sharply, turning. I shook my head. "Call me Mitch. Please." I stared into the girl's face for a moment, registered that she was as worried as I was, and shook my head. I looked away, out the big window. "I'm sorry... I'm kind of... I'm not myself right now. Just... Please call me Mitch. Okay?"

"Okay." Lena's voice was soft.

Silence.

"Mitch?"

I turned around again, fully this time. "Yeah?"

The young woman worked her mouth for a moment. Then, "What are we going to do?" Gone was the distant, cold and bitchy persona she'd affected ever since I'd known her. Now, she was just fragile and scared and looking for help.

Shit.

I was not in the right state of mind to be dealing with this kind of question. I swallowed, and tried to figure out how to tell her that I had my own crap to work through at the moment. Then, I remembered what Lena had been through tonight. What she'd been forced to do. And what I'd done to her.

You're mine.

The words resonated silently in my head. I couldn't even begin to fathom what impact they'd had on her. But my words had been enough to break through her other conditioning, conditioning that had been strong enough to control her every interaction with me for weeks. Which probably meant that whatever

I'd

done... it was even stronger than that.

I had a responsibility now. Beyond just myself. And I was

not

ready for that.

Crap.

I realized I'd been standing silently, staring back at her blankly, for too long. I nodded slowly, then blew out a breath. "I... I don't know, Lena." I looked into her eyes and tried to convey some sort of reassurance. "But I promise..." I paused, "I promise I'm going to do my best to solve this problem."

"Okay." She seemed reassured, as far as that went. At least a little bit. Which was more than I'd expected.

We stared at each other another minute before I looked away. No time for standing around. My tired brain was asking for sleep, but I couldn't give in. At least, not before I'd taken stock.

Okay, Professor,

I thought.

What do you have at your disposal to help you take down an uber-wealthy, mind-controlling maniac with years of experience and the kind of connections that could probably send an elite commando strike force to this hotel room right now just to eliminate you from the face of the planet?

I felt around in my pockets, adding everything up. Wallet. Phone. I wondered where my car keys had gone, then remembered that Lena had driven.

Of course.

And, in my other pocket, the cold, hard frame of...

I pulled my hand free and stared at the LucidSpecs.

And what am I going to do with these?

I glanced over at Lena, walked to the couch, and slumped down next to her. I gave her room, enough space so that she didn't feel crowded.

The girl looked at the glasses in my curled fingers, and then back up into my face. There was a trepidation there, I could see it when I studied her, but there was also something else.

Excitement?

I could see that her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes had a strange spark to them. It made me question just how powerful these glasses were. Or, more accurately, how powerful the conditioning was that Lena associated with these glasses. But that wasn't the most important question right now.

I emptied my pockets onto the glass-topped coffee table in front of us. Wallet, phone and glasses in a neat little row. My phone lit up, and I saw that I had about a dozen missed calls and twice as many texts.

I'm sorry.

I picked my phone up, turned it off, and felt another stab in my chest. There was a touch on my shoulder and I flinched instinctively.

Lena had scooched a little closer and one slim hand rested on my shoulder. Her expression was as far from high-society, snobbish disdain as I'd ever seen it. Instead, her delicate features were composed in a look of quiet understanding. "Thank you." Her words were soft and weren't said with any particular force. But I knew that she was thanking me for helping her when she had nowhere else to turn. No one else she could possibly trust. And I wondered what had made her trust me.

You're mine.

I nodded. "Yeah." There wasn't much else to say.

Her hand left my shoulder and we sat in silence for another moment.

Thoughts raced through my mind, each one more jumbled and sleep-deprived and off-the-wall than the last. I just wanted to make it all stop, to make the world slow down for a minute so I could work things out neatly. I hesitated, then glanced around. I wasn't sure what I was looking for until I saw the minibar.

I could practically feel the burn of alcohol on my tongue, down my throat, washing away my worries. Just washing them away for a little while. Just until morning.

"I'm going to go to bed."

I blinked as Lena's voice distracted me from the magnetic pull of the fully-stocked fridge. "Okay," I said with a nod. "Probably a good idea."

We can think about things in the morning,

I thought. I hadn't looked at a clock in a while, but it was probably coming up on morning already.

The girl paused, glanced away, and then stood up. She walked around the coffee table and toward the door to the darkened bedroom. My eyes followed her slim figure on instinct, watched as she reached down to grab the hem of the bulky sweatshirt and tug it over her head.

No,

I ordered myself sharply. I wasn't going to allow my mind to go down that road. Not after everything that had just happened. Not after tonight, and Julia, and the party, and the Academy, and everything that was...

My eyes slid back toward the minibar.

Just one drink.

Or maybe two.

* * *

I woke up slowly. Painfully.

I groaned, reached out my hand for Julia.

Where are you?

My hand touched crumpled sheets and an empty pillow. I squinted, blinked several times, and my vision cleared.

The room was dark, and I was alone. I didn't remember coming to bed, but I suppose I must have.

Everything hit me at once, along with a sudden wave of pain and nausea.

Shit.

I tripped on my way to the bathroom, stubbed my toe, fumbled with the handle and then fell to my hands and knees on the cold tile. My hand gripped the edge of the toilet as I shoved up the seat. Then, I threw up the contents of my stomach. And then again. I gave in to the sick, twisted sensation of tight, clenched, heaving pain. I was grateful for it, even, because the pounding in my head made me forget what had happened.

It was over too soon.

I rested my face against the cool ceramic for a moment, then struggled to my feet. I flushed, fumbled to the sink, pressed my hands to the marble counter, and stared into my face. My face was red and my eyes were bleary.

I ran cold water, splashed some in my face, and then pressed my palms to my throbbing eyes. "How much did you drink last night?" I asked myself, groaning softly.

"Not a lot, actually."

I flinched and jumped, banging my hip on the counter. I twisted, water spinning away from my face.

But it was more from surprise than alarm, because the voice was soft and gentle. Lena stood in the door to the bathroom. She had a white mug in one hand, with steam rising over the lip. The smell of coffee wafted into the bathroom. She wore one of the hotel bathrobes, the V of tanned skin making me think she wasn't wearing anything underneath. Her hair looked like it had been recently toweled dry.

"Will this help?" The young woman held up the mug.

If I hadn't already been red in the face, I probably would have blushed with embarrassment. Here I was, still wearing my dress slacks, feet bare, no shirt, and hungover, the entire mess of me right in front of one of the most gorgeous women I'd ever met.

"Good morning," I croaked. My throat burned, and I instinctively checked the bathroom counter. Thankfully, this was one of those places with free toiletries. I hastily twisted the top from a bottle of mouthwash, swished thoroughly, and spat.

I felt fractionally less disgusting.

Lena was still standing there when I looked back. She was watching me patiently.

I considered, ran a quick check of my nausea levels, and then padded forward. I accepted the mug, carried it with me back to the sink, gulped down a quick, hot mouthful. "Thanks." I leaned back on the cool marble, steadying myself on the counter just in case I felt another wave of incoming discomfort.