Chapter 9

9

I 'd never seen a professor run out of a classroom until today.

Not that his reason for running wasn't valid, but it seemed unprofessional. Professor Fortenberry didn't even take his bag or his text with him; he just abandoned ship and bolted.

Approximately three minutes ago, there was an attack. Of course, it had to be in the middle of class when the lecture had gotten particularly intriguing. I could listen to hours of someone detailing cold cases, which was exactly what Fortenberry had been lecturing on when the day was so rudely interrupted.

I supposed, however, that the sudden change in everyone's disposition was my perfect research opportunity. Some of my classmates were already leaving, desperate to find the person they would ride this potion wave out with. Others were already in the presence of said person, caught up in giggles and kisses.

Not to my surprise, I felt nothing akin to infatuation or obsession, but I reached into my bag and pulled out the tiny vial of anti-potion we'd completed last night. Or this morning, technically.

Noah and I had spent seven hours working on the brew, and though I was tired today, I was proud of the work we'd accomplished. There were a few hiccups in the experimental potion, and we'd put our heads together in a display of sportsmanship I never would have expected.

We had brewed enough of the potion to last each of us eight days. There had initially been a bit of an argument over the amount we should create. Noah thought we only needed three day's worth, but I argued we would need eight days, just in case. So, we made sixteen, one to be taken every day and one spare. It never hurt to be over-prepared.

The potion tasted bitter, slimy as it slid down my throat. I felt no change in my mind, but that was to be expected. Again, better safe than sorry. Honestly, I was relieved the love potion didn't affect me at all.

I heard a choked cough behind me, and I swiveled to face Noah. Excitement bubbled through me, and I was sure this was the happiest I'd ever been about his choice to sit right behind me.

"Did it work?" I whispered, looking around to make sure no one was paying attention to us.

"I just drank the bloody potion, what do you think?" He glowered at me, his jaw clenched. If he kept doing that, he'd crack a molar.

"I'm not sure how fast it works," he snapped.

"Theoretically, it should set in just as fast as the love potion does. Within a minute, you should be completely fine."

Noah's knuckles turned white as he gripped the edge of the desk, avoiding my gaze. Every muscle in his body was tense and strained, the veins in his neck and one in his forehead bulging.

"Is the love potion really that potent?" I whispered, concerned about how distraught he looked. His chest rose and fell at an erratic pace, and he showed no signs of calming down. His usually flawless porcelain skin was blotchy and red.

"Yes, Baker. Now stop talking." His words held more bite than I'd heard him use in a while, and I recoiled. I understood that I couldn't understand how bad the love potion was, but it wasn't like it caused physical pain. Or did it? Nothing I'd ever read said it did, but Noah was resisting it with what looked like an extreme amount of effort.

"It should be working by now," I muttered, more to myself than him, but his eyes snapped up to meet mine. I leaned closer to him in interest.

"Well, it isn't." He jerked away from me, leaning as far back in his seat as possible.

"Maybe we missed something? Perhaps the oil was supposed to be boiled separately from the—"

"It doesn't matter! Fuck, Baker!" His face was flushed with his anger or desire, probably both. He leaned over to grab his bag, covering his mouth and nose as he did. The movements were nearly mechanical, like he was having a hard time just bending his limbs.

"I'm sorry! We'll work on it—"

He stood up abruptly, not even looking in my direction as he rushed from the room.

Good. Perhaps he would go find whoever he was so in love with and work out that frustration. It would certainly help his bad mood.