Chapter 37

Prue

While driving in the car, it took me some time to realize something important – I didn’t want to be angry, irritated, and brooding all the time. Not in my life, and definitely not during however long I was forced to stay in this pack.

I wanted to be happy. I wanted joy. I wanted plenty of moments to remember later and laugh about over the most random things.

So I took my power back and chose how I wanted to feel – how I would feel. I wasn’t going to drown in negative emotions over a boy who wasn’t even worth my attention, even if the Goddess apparently thought otherwise.

And surprisingly, even to myself, changing my mood was as easy as snapping my fingers. Normally, if I was mad or irritated at someone, it would take me half a day and about a hundred different scenarios in my head of how I could make their life miserable before I calmed down. But it turns out all it really takes is turning your head from left to right and deciding to feel something else.

Besides, sharing I***a.gram reels with the guys lifted my mood quickly. They had some hilarious ones to send back too – totally teenage boy humor, but fun nonetheless.

And, if Alpha boy had decided to return to his regularly scheduled programming of being an emotionally constipated douche with control issues, then clearly it was my civic responsibility – no, my public duty – to make his life as psychologically uncomfortable as possible using nothing but charm, timing, and the power of suggestion.

I wasn’t even being petty. Okay, that was a lie. I was absolutely being petty, but in an artistic way, which makes it different. All I needed was a cooperative Universe and about five minutes of good lighting.

The opportunity presented itself in the form of my third-period Physics class, which just so happened to be scheduled right before Andrew’s Political Philosophy class in the same room (don't ask me how I know it – stupid random facts often get stuck in my mind for no particular reason whatsoever). And if the Universe had any sense of humor at all – and it usually did when it came to playing – he would arrive during the break, just in time to witness a performance he would not enjoy.

So I removed my jacket deliberately and stayed engaged during class, which required more effort than expected because the topic was rotational dynamics – torque, leverage, and all the ways force can spin something off balance. And when the bell rang, I did not rush out like the rest of the students but instead remained seated, casually flipping through my notebook as if the scribbled torque equations suddenly required my full intellectual devotion.

Fingers crossed under the desk. But – no sign of him. Students filtered out and new started to come in, but still no Andrew.

The professor gathered his notes and began sliding papers into his leather bag, and for a brief, tragic moment, I thought the Universe had betrayed me, that Alpha boy had decided to take a different route or was busy brooding somewhere dramatically, and honestly, that would have been such a waste of my carefully calibrated plan.

I stood up just as Mr. Hale adjusted his glasses and prepared to leave, offering him a polite, bright smile that was just a touch warmer than necessary. I needed to stop him in case Universe might still give me a helping hand with later timing.

“Mr. Hale, do you have a minute?” I asked, tilting my head slightly, notebook clutched against my chest in a way that was academically innocent but visually strategic. He paused, clearly curious.

“Of course, Pruedance. What can I help you with?” God, my name sounded alien even to me – it's like I wanted to look over my shoulder just to make sure if there was standing another girl. I was about to reply... But then – there it was: that shift in the air, that low hum under my skin, the subtle tightening of the bond that told me he was close before I even saw the door. Bingo. The Real Show Time. Oh, this was going to be fun.

“Mr. Hale, can I ask something about the torque formula?” I began, stepping a little closer as if the concept physically required proximity, “I feel like I understand the theory, but when you apply rotational force from a different axis, everything just… shifts.”

I could feel Andrew’s presence behind me now, a silent gravitational force that moved until I could see him in my peripheral vision. I resisted the urge to turn because anticipation is half the performance.

Mr. Hale smiled, clearly delighted by the question, launching into dissecting the mechanics of rotational force and unstable equilibrium while opening his textbook, and I listened – properly listened – because if I was going to flirt, it would at least involve equations and intellectual credibility.

I nodded thoughtfully, biting my lip just slightly as if considering his answer deeply, then leaned in to glance at a line in his textbook, my fingers brushing the edge of the page near his hand in a way that was entirely accidental and entirely not.

The bond pulsed. Oh yes, Andrew was definitely watching without removing his eyes from me.

“So the further you are from the pivot, the stronger the rotational effect?” I asked, stepping closer to the desk as he turned slightly to draw a quick diagram, my shoulder almost brushing his sleeve as I leaned in to look at the arc he sketched.

Professor Hale nodded, pleased. “Exactly. The greater the distance from the axis of rotation, the greater the torque produced by the same amount of force. It’s all about leverage.” Leverage, lovely choice of word.

“And if the angle changes,” I continued, tilting my head as I traced the line of his diagram with my finger, close enough to smell the faint chalk and aftershave, “the entire outcome changes, right?”

“Yes,” he said, adjusting his glasses, clearly warming up to the attention. “Because torque depends on the sine of the angle between the force vector and the lever arm. If that angle shifts, the effectiveness of the force shifts with it.”

Interesting, I thought. Are macho men sensitive to positioning too? I smirked inwardly.

“So technically,” I said lightly, glancing up at him through my lashes for half a second longer than necessary before returning my gaze to the board, “it’s not just about force – it’s about where and how you apply it.”

Mr. Hale gave a short, amused breath through his nose. “In physics, yes. Application is everything and precision matters.”

Precision does matter.

“And would you say,” I continued smoothly, shifting my weight onto one hip as I tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear, “is it true that the stronger the gravitational pull, the harder it is to escape the orbit?”

He chuckled at that, clearly entertained now. “Often, yes. The greater the mass, the greater the escape velocity required. Stronger gravitational fields demand more energy to break free.”

I smiled wider – good. Next to me, without turning, I felt it – that tight, coiled tension, like a wire pulled too far and about to snap.

“Okay, good,” I said brightly, straightening but not stepping back, keeping the distance just shy of inappropriate. “I just don’t want to misunderstand the fundamentals. Once momentum builds, it’s harder to stop.”

“That’s correct,” Mr. Hale replied warmly. “Momentum tends to sustain motion unless acted upon by an external force.”

External force – I hope he heared the words just the way I wanted him. I let the corner of my mouth lift slightly as I clutched my notebook.

“Oh,” I said lightly, as if the thought had just occurred to me, “and when two bodies continuously influence each other’s motion… do they eventually synchronize?”

He smiled. “In many systems, yes. Resonance can occur.” Resonance – I love Mr. Hale – his choice of words have been perfect thorught this conversation. Next to me, the air felt heavy enough to cut. That as well could not be any better.

“Would it be possible to go over it again sometime? Maybe after the classes? I learn better one-on-one.” I added with the perfect double meaning.

“I’ll be offering extra consultations this month if you’re interested,” he offered kindly, adjusting the stack of papers in his hands like he’d just extended a scholarship instead of an invitation. Wonderful – everyone loves an enthusiastic student, don’t they? Especially the kind who asks follow-up questions and leans in at the right moments.

“I would love that,” I replied without hesitation, letting the eagerness ring just a little brighter than strictly necessary. “I really want to make sure I fully grasp the nuance. I feel like if I miss one small detail, the whole concept kind of… collapses.”

He nodded approvingly, clearly pleased by the dedication.

“I swear I’m not this slow usually,” I added with a soft, self-deprecating laugh, tilting my head slightly as if embarrassed by my own confusion. “Physics just does something to my brain.” Something about force and tension and bodies in motion.

I offered him a sweet smile – measured, warm, harmless on the surface. Aren’t I adorable?

He smiled back, entirely unsuspecting, launching into a reassurance about how most students struggle with abstract mechanics at first, and how persistence always pays off.

Next to me, the atmosphere thickened. I didn’t need to look. Momentum, after all, builds quietly before it becomes impossible to ignore. I finally turned, feigning surprise as my eyes landed on Andrew leaning casually against a table, arms crossed, expression carefully neutral in the way that screamed absolutely not neutral.

“Oh,” I said lightly, as if I hadn’t calculated this moment down to the second, “I didn’t see you there.”

His jaw flexed. Mr. Hale glanced between us, oblivious to the underlying war zone. Andrew’s eyes darkened in a way that had nothing to do with academic nuance.

We wrapped up a few moments later, and as the professor finally excused himself, I lingered just long enough to thank him again before putting my textbook in the bag with exaggerated calm.

Andrew didn’t move from the spot. I approached slowly as I had to pass by him to get out of the class.

“Are you blocking the exit intentionally,” I asked sweetly, “or is that just a side effect of alpha instincts?”

“I saw that,” he said quietly.

“Saw what?” I blinked.

“The conversation. The leaning. The -” he exhaled sharply, clearly searching for a word that wouldn’t sound unhinged. “The performance.”

I gasped softly. “Performance? Andrew, I just like understanding how forces work. It’s fascinating how invisible things can control everything.”

“You were flirting.”

“I was networking.”

His eyes narrowed.

“With a teacher.”

“With an educated adult who appreciates intelligent conversation,” I corrected smoothly. “You should try it sometime.”

That hit – clean strike – and I gladly claimed the twelve points. His posture shifted, closer now, not quite touching but near enough that the air felt charged.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” he said.

“Doing what?” I asked again, widening my eyes just slightly for effect.

He leaned down a fraction, voice lower. “Trying to get a reaction.”

I smiled slowly. “And is it working?”

Silence stretched between us, thick and electric, and for a second I almost forgot this had started as revenge because the tension had evolved into something dangerously close to foreplay.

“You don’t get to parade around like that,” he said finally.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re available.”

I laughed softly.

“I am available,” I replied, stepping past him, brushing his shoulder deliberately as I moved thowards the doorway. “You just haven’t decided what to do about it.”

His hand shot out, catching my wrist, not painfully, just firmly enough to stop me. The bond flared.

“Prue,” he warned.

“Andrew,” I mocked his tone like I was retar.ded.

We stood there, now students moving around us, noise buzzing, but in that moment it felt like we were suspended in our own little war zone of pride and attraction.

“You think this is funny,” he said.

“I think,” I replied, leaning closer so only he could hear, “that if you’re going to act like a possessive jerk over a dress that wasn’t even see-through, then you don’t get to complain when I remind you that other people are perfectly capable of appreciating me.”

His grip tightened slightly.

“Careful,” he murmured. He stared at me, torn between fury and something much less controlled. And I realized, with deep satisfaction, that the Universe had cooperated beautifully. Mission accomplished!