Page 1 of Bound by the Mad Scientist

Chapter One

They didn’t do Halloween like that back in Kansas. Not saying the girls were any more dressed, or the guys any less drunk back home. But something about New England fall really made the whole spooky vibe come alive. And wave after wave of sexy cats, sexy nurses—I even saw a sexy traffic cone—made me more than happy to be there.

I was new at Whitcomb, after transferring for my sophomore year from Independence Community College. It was the best decision I ever made. Well, I didn’t exactly make it. I was finally approved for a track and field scholarship. I would’ve never been sitting at that Halloween party otherwise. That and taking an 8:00 a.m. Microbiology course. That’s where I met Kelvin Manchester, the course assistant, as he’d put it, or lab jockey, as anyone else would.

Kelvin had invited me to the party, full of mostly seniors like him, and probably the coolest social event I’d ever been to. I’d never even seen a house as big or old as the Whitcomb Union house, or manor, I guess they call it. No bricks, all stone, dark wood-paneled rooms, and decorated like a Hollywood haunted house set.

Kel had said to come any time after ten, and that he’d meet me there. But it was getting closer to ten thirty, and I still hadn’t seen him. I don’t get awkward easily, but showing up alone in costume had my stomach wobbly and my head on a swivel. It was uncomfortable, and I felt like everyone was looking at me. Not because I was shirtless in my old overalls, a straw hat, boots, and nothing else—there were several shirtless Roman soldiers and firemen—but I must’ve looked like a weirdo squinting at everything. My six-month-old contact prescription already wasn’t strong enough.

I’m good at making friends, but for some reason, every time I approached someone that night, my tongue just tied right up, or they politely dismissed me. Especially the girls. Even the ones in my year wanted nothing to do with me. The seniors could’ve been Oscar-winning actresses, as far as my chances of getting laid went. I was getting used to the idea that my right hand and I would be best friends for the next few years.

I was sitting in one of the many rooms with couches but no TVs when I saw him. Thank goodness he wasn’t wearing a shirt either. Kelvin was dressed as a mad scientist, in a long lab coat, jeans, and comically thick glasses, with his hair standing up in every direction. It was a little on the nose, but maybe the Northeast liked irony more than us Midwesterners. Then again, who the hell was I to talk? I’d picked about thirteen pieces of fancy wheatgrass to find the right one to dangle from my mouth.

“What’s up, Adrian?” Kel said.

I stood to greet him, and we slapped hands before giving each other a half hug. Which would be normal for any of my other guy friends, but we’d only ever shaken hands before. It was obvious when he walked in, but when I hugged him, I felt how freaking built Kelvin was. Solid like a rock with thick arms, a slab of a chest, and the kind of abs you only see on influencers.

“Glad you made it. Sorry I’m late. Had to wrangle some things together,” he said when we parted.

He was taller than me too, but not by much. I’m 6’2”, and normally clock bigger dudes, but I hadn’t until we half-hugged. Maybe I paid less attention to Kel physically because he was always so covered up in slacks, sweater vests, and button-downs in the lab. Or in baggy hoodies and sweatpants around campus.

“No worries at all, man,” I said.

Kel lifted a brow. “Not exactly how Dorothy does All Hallows’ Eve, huh?”

“Dorothy?”

I knew what he meant. When you’re from Kansas, you’ll get about thirty over the rainbow’s, and you’re not in Kansas anymore’s before they even know your name.

Kel froze for a second. I laughed, and he pushed my shoulder. “C’mon, let’s get you a refill.”

We made our way to the keg on the back patio. Or kegs. There was a line for the “pong” keg, no one at the smaller “drinking” keg, and a few Roman soldiers waiting at the “keg stand” keg. Other than the fancy-ass furniture and a party decoration budget I couldn’t even guess at, that was the first time I really felt like it was a totally different kind of party than anything I’d ever been to.

Kel kept his eye on the Roman soldiers while he poured me a beer. “Lacrosse guys. Closest thing we have to dumb jocks or frat boys here.”

They were rowdy, and more like my friends back home than anyone else there. “I was captain of my lacrosse team in high school. And the track and field team. That’s how I got my scholarship.”

Kel’s shoulders fell back. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn’t know you were on scholarship.”

“I was co-captain of the football team, too. But only because the captain was the coach’s nephew.”

“Nepotism at its finest.” His attention returned to the Romans. “But I guess that makes sense.”

“Is Kansas known to be a hotbed of high school sports nepotism?”

Kel laughed and handed me a full beer before filling his own. “No. You’re not…” His eyes dragged up and down my frame. “Like those guys. You’re smart and well-spoken. And you’re the top student in lab.”

“I—” There was a commotion at the keg-stand keg.

One Roman was saying, “Dude, I can’t.”

The other, with a bigger, fancier helmet, said, “Yes, you can, bro. C’mon. Don’t be a pussy.”

“I’m not—fuck it. Fine.” The first Roman was hoisted up to chug beer directly from the tap while being held upside down. His little Roman soldier skirt thing fell as soon as he was up.