AuraSwipe

Chapter 7

I'd just finished rearranging my altar when Eli's message arrived, like he somehow knew. His photo showed a perfectly symmetrical crystal grid laid out on what looked like graph paper, each stone placed with mathematical precision. Rose quartz, amethyst, and clear quartz arranged in the sacred Metatron's cube pattern.

"Trying new techniques," his message read. "Each crystal's placement calculated to amplify energetic resonance by exactly 23.7%. Curious about your thoughts on the formation."

I chuckled softly, looking at my own altar where crystals found their homes through pure intuition. Just this morning, I'd let a piece of moonstone roll between my palms until it felt right, then placed it exactly where my energy guided me—right next to a dried lavender bundle that had literally fallen off my shelf (if that wasn't a sign, I didn't know what was). My altar might look like organized chaos to someone like Eli, but every item had practically placed itself—the universe's own algorithm, if you wanted to get technical about it.

"Pretty grid," I wrote back, "but magic isn't always about perfect angles. Sometimes you have to let the energy flow naturally." I snapped a photo of my gorgeously chaotic altar and sent it his way, making sure to capture how the afternoon light caught the crystals just right. Let him analyze that with his precious calculations.

His response came faster than usual: "Interesting. Your setup defies conventional sacred geometry, yet I bet it's more effective than most practitioners' work. Raw talent versus calculated approach. We should compare notes sometime."

There it was again—that subtle probe, like he was gathering data. I started typing "Maybe we should," then deleted it. I added, "Careful, you almost sound impressed," then deleted that too. Finally, I settled on: "You asking me on a date or conducting a research study?"

"Can't it be both?" Three dots appeared as he typed again, disappeared, then reappeared. "Though I should warn you—I take very detailed notes."

I shivered, and not entirely from discomfort. The way he danced between flirtation and academic interest was maddening. And effective. I found myself glancing at my kitchen drawer, where my scissors were still buried. Maybe I should have used them while I still thought I'd walk away easily. But then again, wasn't this exactly what I'd been hoping for? Finally, I had a chance to see what was really behind that carefully calculated facade.

My fingers hovered over the phone, unsure what to say. One date couldn't hurt. After all, I had my own research to conduct.