Wesley was annoyed. He had never met a woman as troublesome as Blair. "Get up!" he ordered harshly.

Blair sat up on the bed.

The next thing she knew, he grabbed her wrist and dragged her off the bed.

"Ow! You're hurting me!" she cried out.

Wesley looked down at her wrist and realized that he was holding her where the needle had been pricked when she was on an IV drip. "I'm sorry," he said with a frown.

"I told you I wouldn't be able to finish the five-kilometer run, but you insisted I run. Because of that, I ended up having heatstroke, and you are still so mean to me. Wesley, I'm a girl, not a military man," Blair protested.

Her last sentence was a reminder. It struck him that she wasn't as tough as the soldiers he trained every day. He couldn't treat her the same way he treated them.

Just as she was expecting some comforting words from him, he bent over, picked her up and threw her over his shoulder. Blair shrieked.

As he passed the side-table on his way to the ward door, he grabbed her medicine and tucked it into his pocket.

The college doctor was prescribing some medicine to a student in his office. He happened to see Wesley carrying Blair on his shoulder as he walked by his office. His eyes widened like saucers in shock.

He walked to the door immediately in the hope of reminding Wesley that he wasn't supposed to treat a girl so roughly, let alone a patient who had recently had heatstroke.

But he wasn't quick enough. By the time he reached the hallway, Wesley was already out of sight.

Lying upside down on Wesley's shoulder, Blair's head swam uncontrollably. And the jolt made her nauseated. She felt like puking. But before she could say anything, she was stuffed into a car.

Wesley got into the driver's seat and started the vehicle. As the car slowly left the university, Blair felt a little better and realized that she was in a black Hummer with premium equipment.

She looked around the car and asked, "Is this car yours?"

"Hmm." He gave her a lukewarm response.

"Where did you get the money for this?" Considering his age and position, she didn't think he could afford it.

"A friend gave it to me as a gift," he said.

"Who was it? Obviously, you have some rich friends." She wished she knew some moneybags w

r heard him reply.

historical

"Oh, that's why she is here." Megan gave Blair one more look as the door was shut behind them.

All of a sudden, Blair felt like what she had been doing all along had been pointless. She had been trying so hard to pursue him, but to him, she was only a neighbor. Not even a friend.

She had been so forward with him, giving him all kinds of signals, but he remained indifferent towards her.

'Maybe he really doesn't like me. I'm such a loser.'

That evening, Blair had dinner with Hartwell. She told him what had happened in the library. He picked up some food from the bowl and put it on her plate. Then he said, "I heard that you had heatstroke yesterday. It's been really hot outside lately. And as a junior, you don't even have to attend the military training. So, why were you running in the sun?"

Blair wasn't surprised that Hartwell knew about her sunstroke. "Our substitute guidance counselor has been picking on me, so I mixed up some paint and told her that it was coffee. I convinced her to drink it. She was pissed, and made me and Joslyn do a five-kilometer run in the sports ground. The worst part was that she left us in the hands of the well-known, devil-like military instructor, Wesley. You already know what happened after that—I got sunstroke."

"Wesley?" Hartwell frowned. "He is known for being harsh, but every one of his soldiers turns out to be excellent. I'm not surprised that you got sunstroke if he was your military instructor."

"Me neither," Blair seconded.