My Equation and My Girl: Both are Non-negotiable!

On the day the results for the National Physics Olympiad Selection were posted, the bulletin board at Oakwood Prep was packed.

I, Logan, was at the very top. As always.

Chloe was second. Also as always.

The gap between our scores was always prepensely and precisely locked at exactly 0.5 points.

She was the crown jewel of Oakwood Prepthe heiress to a billionaire estate, as arrogant as a peacock. I, on the other hand, was the scholarship kid from the wrong side of the tracks, cold and unbreakable as a block of ice.

"Logan, is this the piece of trash you call study notes?"

Chloes voice cut through the murmuring crowd.

Between her manicured fingers, she was pinching the physics notebook I had stayed up all night organizing. Just yesterday, in the pouring rain, she had cornered me at the lab door with red rims around her eyes, begging to borrow it.

At the time, she had sniffled, "Logan, I just want to see how the top scorer thinks. I don't want to lose so embarrassingly next time."

But now, right in front of the schools top academic elite, she tossed that heavily annotated notebook directly into the trash can outside the hallway as if it were a piece of used tissue.

####

With a dull thud, the notebook landed in the damp waste paper, its leather cover instantly stained with dirt.

"Don't flatter yourself." She flipped her long, blonde hair, looking down at me with pure disdain. "I brought it home and skimmed through it. It was full of loopholes. Logan, I was just studying my opponent's weaknesses. You didn't actually think I needed your help, did you?"

Whispers erupted around us.

"The ice queen is still the ice queen, huh?"

"The nerd finally tripped. I heard he never lends his notes to anyone, but he made an exception for Chloe."

I stood there, staring at her, my face completely expressionless.

"Are you done?" I asked, my voice flat and devoid of any emotion.

Chloe blinked, momentarily caught off guard. She probably expected me to blow up or look devastated.

Clenching her jaw, she sneered, "Don't bring this kind of garbage near me again. After all, our relationship begins and ends with being rivals."

With that, she turned on her heel like a victorious general, leading her clique of girls down the hallway.

Under the watchful eyes of everyone, I walked over to the trash can, bent down, and picked up the dirty notebook.

There was a deep crease on the cover.

No one else knew that on the very last page of this notebook, there was a Polaroid picture of the two of usour only photo together.

It was taken at the national awards ceremony last year. The backstage area was a chaotic mess, and she had accidentally tripped and fallen right into my arms. A passing photographer caught the split-second moment.

In the photo, she was clutching my collar in panic, and I was looking down at her, my eyes softer than they had ever been.

At 10:00 PM, I was in the school library.

I was staying late to prepare for the final round of the National Team Selection. Outside, thunder rumbled, and a sudden autumn storm slammed against the massive glass windows.

My phone buzzed on the wooden table.

It was an unknown number.

I knew it was her because just this afternoon, Chloe had dramatically left the class Snapchat group and blocked my main account.

I tapped the message, and my pupils dilated.

*The third method for that physics problem... you only wrote the beginning in your notebook. I... I can't solve it.*

I frowned.

This demanding, bratty tone could belong to absolutely no one else.

But I didnt reply. I locked my phone and went back to calculating the vector forces on my scratch paper.

Ten minutes later, my phone started buzzing like crazy.

*Logan, are you dead? Would it kill you to text back?*

*And why did you sketch my side profile in your notebook? Its so ugly! My face is not that round!*

*During the tournament, why did you slide your eraser to me? It totally threw me off! If it werent for your stupid eraser, I wouldnt have messed up the last question. Did you want to beat me that badly?*

I watched the texts stream in, the tip of my pen digging heavily into the paper.

A sketch of her profile?

That was from that afternoon in the lab when she was hunched over her desk. I had drawn it unconsciously. I thought I had hidden it well enough, but she had found it.

The messages kept coming, getting more ridiculous by the second.

*Logan, are you an idiot? I threw your notes in the trash! Why didnt you yell at me? You could have at least cursed me out! You acting all calm makes me feel like Im the only one losing my mind here!*

*Its pouring outside, and I dont have an umbrella. Im standing right outside the library. I know youre in there.*

*If youre willing to explain the last problem to me, bring an umbrella and come out. If not... Ill just stand here until sunrise. Its just rain anyway. It wont kill me.*

I turned my head to look out the window.

Through the heavy sheets of rain, under the dim streetlamp, I could see a small, fragile figure. She was wearing her thin school uniform skirt, standing stubbornly in the storm like a drenched kitten.

Another text popped up.

*Hubby...*

The moment those six letters hit my eyes, my heart skipped a beat.

But within two seconds, the message was unsent.

Immediately after, a long voice-to-text message appeared: *I hate you so much. I hate how youre always so calm. I hate how you make me feel like a complete fool! I hate how you clearly like me, but youre too chicken to say a single word!*

####

The last text felt like a final ultimatum: *Counting down from three. If you dont come out, Im... Im really never talking to you again. Three. Two. One...*

I slammed my textbook shut, grabbed my black umbrella, and bolted out of the reading room.

By the time I pushed open the heavy double doors of the library, the spot under the streetlamp was empty.

Only a pool of water remained, reflecting the cold white light. And in the middle of that puddle lay a small, pink rhinestone hair clip.

I picked it up, my heart sinking to the pit of my stomach.

It was Chloes favorite hair clip. No one was ever allowed to touch it. Now, it was abandoned in the mud.

A dark SUV had just sped away from the curb, its tires splashing rainwater onto the sidewalk. A voice memo on my phonewhich had automatically recorded her voice-to-textcaptured a faint, deep male voice in the background:

*Miss Vanderbilt, its time to go. Your father has been waiting a long time.*

Then, Chloes tearful, desperate voice: *Im not going back! All he cares about is his business mergers! I told him Im not going to that closed-off training camp!*

I let out a breath I didnt know I was holding. It was her familys security detail. But right after, a wave of cold anger washed over me.

If she was going to let them take her, why did she have to text me and mess with my head first?

I unlocked my phone and dialed the unknown number.

It rang twice before someone picked up. The background was quiet, save for Chloes shaky, muffled breathing.

"Chloe," I said, my voice sharp and tense.

"...Logan." Her voice was quiet, thick with tears. "Why did you come out? The three seconds were already up."

"I have your hair clip," I said, ignoring her question. "Where are you?"

"In the car. My dad is sending me to the elite prep camp upstate tonight." Her voice suddenly cracked, filled with bitter resentment. "Logan, do you think Im pathetic? I humiliate you in public during the day, and then I cling to you like a desperate ghost at night. Honestly, I disgust myself too."

"What are you trying to say, Chloe?"

"I'm saying... I took the photo from your notebook. And I tore out the sketch. You're free now, Logan. No ones going to fight you for the top spot anymore. And no ones going to use 'academic discussions' as an excuse to stare at you."

The heavy click of automatic car door locks echoed through the line.

"Goodbye, Logan."

The call went dead.

I stood in the rain, my knuckles turning white around the pink hair clip.

Everyone at Oakwood Prep said Logan was just a heartless, test-taking machine.

But only I knew how many calculations I had to run to perfectly maintain that 0.5-point gap right behind her, just to keep her looking back at me.

I walked back into the library and opened my notification history.

Even though she had unsent the message quickly, the preview on my lock screen still clearly showed those six letters.

*Hubby.*

It was a stupid nickname from a game of Truth or Dare back in freshman year. She had lost the dare, blushed furiously, and promised that if we both got into Oakwood Prep, she would call me that forever.

But once we got in, she put her armor back on, becoming the untouchable heiress once again, acting as if that promise had never existed.

I sat back down at my desk and flipped to the damp last page of my notebook.

Underneath where she had torn out the sketch, there was another hidden note I had written in tiny font:

*If the final equation of physics is love, I admit defeat. I am completely, utterly helpless.*

I picked up my phone and sent her my first text of the night.

"Im only explaining the third method for that physics problem once. If you dont show up at the National Selection next week, Ill drag you out of the Vanderbilt mansion myself."

Three seconds later, a one-word reply came back: *Screw you.*

Right after, she sent a picture.

It was a selfie taken in the backseat of the luxury SUV. Chloe was hiding in the shadows, wiping away tears, but her hand was clutching the Polaroid photo she had stolen from my notebook.

Her caption read: *Just you wait, Logan. Im going to crush you next week.*

***

The exam room for the National Team Selection was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

I sat right in the middle of the front row. The desk to my left was empty.

That was Chloes seat.

The proctor checked his watch for the third time. Only five minutes left before the doors locked.

"Um... son, please place your ID card flat on the table," the proctor said, tapping my desk.

I looked down and realized I was gripping my permit so hard my knuckles were white, the edges of the paper completely wrinkled.

"Sir," I said, my voice dry. "Is Chloe Vanderbilt not coming?"

The proctor adjusted his glasses and sighed. "The administration office just got a call from the Vanderbilt family. They withdrew her from the competition. Something about... medical issues."

Medical issues?

Bullshit. When she was yelling at me on the phone yesterday, she sounded like a wild cat.

Just then, a commotion broke out at the entrance of the hall. A middle-aged woman in a neat maid uniform was arguing frantically with the security guard. When she saw me turn around, her eyes lit up. She broke past the guard and ran toward the window next to my row.

It was Maria, the maid from Chloes house.

Through the glass pane, her face was twisted with panic. She frantically gestured to me, mouth opening wide to silently scream two words: *HELP HER.*

I stood up abruptly.

"Mr. Logan! The exam is about to start. Where do you think you're going?" the proctor barked.

####

I stood in the aisle, looking up at the clock on the wall.

Two minutes until the exam started. Two hours until it ended.

This selection was my only ticket to the International Olympiad, the only way a poor kid like me could secure a full-ride to MIT. It was also the "meet me at the top" promise Chloe and I had made.

But now, the peak was still here, and she was gone.

I sat back down and picked up my pen. "Sir, you can hand out the papers."

The proctor let out a sigh of relief. "Good choice, kid. Don't let distractions ruin your future."

The moment the exam paper landed on my desk, I scanned the questions.

They were brutal. Truly national-level difficulty.

The final, high-weight question involved complex non-linear dynamics. If Chloe were here, she would probably be chewing on her pen, crying her eyes out.

I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, and all I could see was her tear-stained face in that photo, saying *Logan, just you wait.*

If I didn't go, her life might actually be ruined by her fathers forced arrangements.

If I did go and abandoned this exam, my life might be ruined too.

This choice was harder than any physics problem I had ever solved.

But I, Logan, don't do single-choice questions.

I put pen to paper, my hand moving at lightning speed.

Because of my speed, the scratching of my pen against the paper was incredibly loud in the silent room.

The students around me looked over in sheer terror.

Forty-five minutes.

It took me exactly forty-five minutes to finish a high-level exam designed for two hours.

I wrote down the final derivation for the last question, then slammed my pen onto the table.

"I'm turning in my paper, sir."

Amidst the dead silence of the room and the slack-jawed stare of the proctor, I grabbed my backpack, leaped right over the first-floor window sill, and landed in front of Maria.

"Lead the way," I said coldly. "Take me to the engagement venue."

The black sedan sped down the coastal highway.

Maria was shivering in the passenger seat while I sat in the back, searching up Chloes supposed "fianc" on my phoneJulian Vance.

Julian Vance. The sole heir to the Vance tech empire. A prodigy who entered college at fourteen and won two international gold medals.

He wasnt just rich; he was an intellectual beast.

No wonder Chloes dad looked down on me. To billionaires, a scholarship kid who got high scores through sheer hard work wasn't even fit to shine Julian's shoes.

"Mr. Logan," Maria said, her voice trembling. "The road ahead is blocked. Mr. Vanderbilt has private security guarding the estate. You cant get in without an invitation. And... I heard Mr. Vance has a horrible temper. Last time a guy tried to talk to Miss Chloe, Julian had his legs broken."

I looked out the window.

Indeed, five hundred yards ahead, a security checkpoint had been set up. Several burly men in black suits were patrolling with guard dogs.

"Pull over," I said suddenly.

"What? Here?" the driver stammered.

"The front entrance is suicide." I pushed the door open, pointing toward a brick wall adjacent to the estate. "That's the exhaust vent for the hotel's kitchen. Based on the architectural blueprint of this estate, that vent has a structural weakness and is constantly under maintenance. There will be a gap."

Maria stared at me like I was an alien. "How... how could you possibly know that?"

"Because the blueprint of this hotel was used as a structural stress analysis problem in one of our prep tests." I ripped off my school tie and wrapped it around my knuckles. "You guys go back. Ill take it from here."

Ten minutes later, covered in dust and soot, I dropped from the kitchen ventilation shaft onto the backstage area of the grand ballroom.

The elegant sound of a violin quartet floated through the air. The master of ceremonies was speaking into a microphone with mock enthusiasm: "And now, please welcome our brilliant groom-to-be, Julian Vance!"

The crowd erupted into applause.

I hid behind the heavy red velvet curtains, peeking through a gap.

Under the massive crystal chandelier stood Chloe. She was wearing a stunning white strapless gown, looking breathtakingly beautiful.

But her face was a mask of despair, her eyes completely hollow as she stared at the floor.

Beside her stood a guy in a sleek white tuxedo.

He wore gold-rimmed glasses, looking like a textbook sociopath with a polished, smug grin.

That was Julian Vance.

"Chloe," Julian said into his lapel mic, his voice so smooth it made my skin crawl. "I heard you had a very... passionate rival back at Oakwood Prep? On a big day like today, why didnt you invite him to bear witness?"

Chloe snapped her head up, glaring at him. "Julian, don't push it. This is a business deal between our families. Leave innocent people out of this."

"Innocent?" Julian adjusted his glasses, his smile widening. "But I heard that just last night, in the middle of a storm, someone called him 'hubby' on Snapchat."

####

The crowd gasped. Chloes father, Mr. Vanderbilt, looked absolutely livid.

Suddenly, Julian turned his head, his eyes locking precisely onto the curtain where I was hiding. His gaze was filled with the arrogant superiority of a man who thought he owned the world.

"Since you're already here, why play the mouse, Logan? Come on out."

I had been spotted.

I had to hand it to him; the gold medalists observation skills were indeed top-tier.

Taking a deep breath, I ripped the curtain open. Amidst the gasps of the wealthy guests, I stepped onto the polished floor, wearing my dust-covered school uniform, and walked right into the spotlight.

The moment Chloe saw me, tears streamed down her face. She frantically shook her head, mouthing: *Go! Get out of here!*

I didnt look at her. I kept my eyes locked on Julian.

"Mr. Vance," I said, brushing the soot off my sleeves. "You got your variables mixed up. Chloe didnt call me that because she wanted to. It was a dumb Truth or Dare game. But for a guy with a gold medal, you seem pretty bad at distinguishing independent and dependent variables. Her emotions are controlled by me. What kind of constant do you think you are in her life?"

The entire ballroom went dead silent.

"What? Scared?" Julian looked down at me, casually spinning a multi-million-dollar diamond ring between his fingers.

Chloe rushed forward, shielding me like a protective kitten. "Julian! You're disgusting! Logan is just a high school senior, he hasnt even taken college-level quantum mechanics! You're just trying to humiliate him!"

"Oh? You care about him that much?" Julians eyes went cold. He reached out to grab Chloes wrist. "Since your little boyfriend is a coward, why don't you just put the ring on?"

Before his hand could touch her, I intercepted him.

My grip was iron-clad. Years of doing heavy labor at my parents' farm had given me a level of raw strength that this spoiled rich kid couldnt match. Julians face twisted in pain.

"Who said I was a coward?" I shoved his hand away, pulling Chloe behind me. "Give me the test."

The guests began to murmur, and Mr. Vanderbilt looked ready to call security, but Julian raised a hand to stop them.

A projector screen rolled down, and a incredibly complex quantum mechanics wave function equation appeared on the screen.

"Solve the Schr?dinger equation for a particle in a finite potential well under these boundary conditions," Julian sneered. "Ill give you ten minutes."

Chloe closed her eyes in despair.

But looking at the screen, I actually smiled.

How incredibly ironic.

This exact advanced problem was something I had taught myself and derived in that very notebook Chloe had thrown into the trashjust to show off to her.

My annotation next to that equation had been: *I am like this particle, forever trapped in the potential well called Chloe. No matter how much my probability wave spreads, I can never escape you.*

She had thrown the notebook away, but had she read it?

If she had, she would know I could solve this in my sleep.

I grabbed the digital stylus and began writing on the smartboard. No hesitation. No pauses.

One line. Two lines. Ten lines...

As my derivation expanded, the smug smirk on Julians face gradually dissolved, replaced by a horrified stiffness.

"This is impossible... this derivation isn't even in the standard undergraduate syllabus..." he muttered to himself.

Writing the final symbol, I tossed the stylus aside and turned to face the pale-faced billionaire heir.

"Schr?dinger's cat is both dead and alive before you open the box," I said, looking him dead in the eye. "But when it comes to Chloe, there is only one wave-function collapseshe is mine."

The room erupted into chaos.

Ignoring the shocked stares of the elite, I grabbed Chloes hand. Her fingers were ice-cold and trembling.

"Let's go," I said.

"Where... where are we going?" she asked blankly.

"Back to school." I pulled her toward the exit. As we passed Mr. Vanderbilt, I stopped.

The older man was shaking with rage, pointing a finger at me. "Logan! If you dare walk out that door with her, I will have you expelled from Oakwood Prep by tonight! Your scholarship, your Ivy League recommendationsgone! I will make sure you have no future in this country!"

Chloe flinched, trying to pull her hand back. "Logan, don't... Im not worth ruining your life over..."

I tightened my grip, locking my fingers with hers.

I turned to the man who held all the wealth and power, my gaze colder than the winter rain.

"Mr. Vanderbilt, you have one thing wrong."

"Oakwood Prep didn't give me a chance. Oakwood Prep needs me to keep their Ivy League admission rates up. As for my future..."

I pulled out my crumpled exam permit from my pocket and flicked it in front of his face.

"I finished the national selection exam in forty-five minutes. I am absolutely certain I got a perfect score. Once I make the national team and bring back a gold medal, MIT and Princeton will be begging me to join them. Do you think your influence is bigger than the academic prestige of the United States of America?"

Without waiting for his response, I pulled Chloe with me and kicked open the heavy oak doors of the ballroom.

Outside, the storm had cleared, and golden sunlight was piercing through the clouds.

Chloe stumbled along beside me. One of her high heels had slipped off, so she simply kicked the other one off too, running barefoot on the wet asphalt.

We ran until we were miles away, finally stopping under a bridge to catch our breath.

She slid down against the concrete wall, burying her face in her knees, and began to sob uncontrollably.

"Logan, are you an idiot?! *Sob*... You provoked the Vance family, you provoked my dad... What if you didn't pass? What if you got that equation wrong?!"