The sound echoes and I frown. Why is it so familiar?

I jolt awake and groan as I turn to snooze the goddamned alarm of my phone. Hot and bothered, I prop myself on one elbow and glance at the time. Ten already! I fall back in the soft mattress and squeeze my eyes shut, pressing the heels of my palms over my eyelids.

Did I just have a freaking wet dream? With my professor in it! How the hell am I supposed to look at Wright now?

I am so screwed.

The images flood back into my mind, the feelings and sensations make my heart rate pick up yet again, and for my pathetic lady parts to throb and crave his touch.

I throw the duvet aside and hurry to the shower, running the ice-cold water, I stand underneath it to calm myself and my stupid hormones.

It never happened. I chant it in my head as I quickly scrub myself clean. As if it'll wash the images of the dream too.

I cannot understand my brain. It's either making stupid nightmares or this. Just chill for a fucking day, jeez!

And why did it have to be Wright, exactly on the night Brian kissed me? I wish it was him instead.

I shake my head and promise myself to not think about it, shoving the memory into a box in the farthest, darkest corner of my brain, in hopes of never opening it. It never happened.

I nod to myself as I return to my room and get dressed. Glancing at my phone, I catch an unread message from Brian.

With a smile I read the text, 'Wanna grab lunch on Saturday?'

I sigh and glance around. The reason why I didn't want to get involved with anyone. Squirming, I type no with multiple apologies, saying I have assignments to catch up with. It's not like I'm lying.

I scurf down my cereal before heading out.

Each step nearing the university, adds to the speed of my thundering heart. I wring my fingers, inhale and exhale slowly and do all the other things that are prone to calm down a racing heart and jittery nerves but as I cross the campus ground, it's all futile.

I reach the narrow hallway, the same with Wright's office at its end. With a quick glance, I realize I'm not on time. Cursing under my breath, I shake my head, and pull out the file I've printed from last night's research and hold it close to my chest.

I shut my eyes and focus on my breathing. Out of the ten topics I found last night, I made sure to have six of them revolving around the Reimann hypothesis. Now I have to hope he gets the clue and agrees to continue on this path. This is it.

I'm getting closer to what I've planned for the past three weeks.

I can do it. Like a confidence-boosting spell, I chant it in my head and tread to his office.

The door is half-open, and I peer inside, catching him sitting behind his desk, brows furrowed deeply and his mouth is set in a straight line.

Shakily, I suck in a breath and rub my palms on my thighs to get rid of the sweat. I push a lock of hair behind my ear, gather my courage, and knock.

His head snaps up, glacial dark blue eyes land on me, and my breath hitches. Not in a good way.

I resist the urge to spin and flee but instead, mask my worry with a small smile. Did the black suit guy show up again? Whatever the reason, Professor Wright is incandescent and I almost feel bad for myself that I have to put up with his pissy side.

"May I?" I weakly ask and he nods before going back to reading whatever that's in front of him.

Hesitantly, I walk in, desperately scanning his face to find a hint of the man I spent an entire night in his house, but it's useless.

"The research," I say and place the file on his desk.

Without sparing a glance in my way, he picks it up and breezes it through it. His frown deepens and I clasp my hands in front of myself to stop my fidgeting fingers, as I watch him with wide eyes.

"What is this?" he glowers.

"The research you tol-"

He interrupts me, barking, "Is this how I told you to do it?"

I back away slightly, blinking multiple times. "Yes?" My mind goes blank for a moment from shock, before I recall everything he told me to do and all the things I did last night, and they perfectly align.

His nostrils flare as he glares at me. I gulp.

"This nonsense?" he holds up the file, waving it slightly. "I spend all those hours and this is what you give me? Come here." He demands.

Hesitantly I near his desk as he flips through the pages. "Is this the format I told you to work on?" he fumes, his index finger glides down the paper. His voice rings in my ears, drilling into my brain "And what are these rubbish topics? A kid could have done ten times better than this."

Unfocused I gaze at his hand. No one has ever talked to me like this. I rub my brow, clueless and confused.

"What is this? I specifically told you to go through other papers," he rages.

My eyebrows squish together. "I did, and I foun-"

"Did I tell you to talk? Do not interrupt me," he snaps.

I flinch back and blink a few times, at a loss of words as my heart sinks to my stomach.

"This crap is not even worth being an elementary school's research project. I spent an entire night to get this as a result?" He throws the file on his desk. "How can you be so dim to not understand such a simple a thing!" he bellows.

I bite my bottom lip to stop it from quivering and press down my thumbnail into my other hand's index finger.

"Is this how I told you to list down the sources?" he yells.

I wince, struggling to keep my breathing even.

"And these references, have you even checked their publication dates?" he seethes.

I tilt my head to one side. He didn't tell me to check the dates though.

"You have wasted enough of my time. Pick up this lame excuse of research and do not show up until it's something worth sparing a second over. For once you can try working hard instead of spending your every waking hour doing meaningless things with a different bunch of people."

Slowly, I retrieve the folder, blinking rapidly and avoiding his hard gaze.

"If you're going to stay this thick-headed, can't handle such an easy task, quit wasting my time and energy more than you already have. Now leave." He pushes up his glasses, his neck is flushed and aggressively he flips open another binder as I remain frozen in my spot, my insides trembling.

His cold eyes jump to me, cutting me.

My breath hitches in my throat. "I'm sorry," I mutter and spin on my heels and tramp away.

Before heading out of his office, I hurl the folder into the trashcan next to the doorway.

Dizzy and sick to my stomach I try to get away from there as fast as I can.

"Gracie," Brian calls from behind me as I rush to the staircase.

I curse under my breath, "I need to go," I tell him over my shoulder and bolt down the stairs. Not looking back. Black and white spots flash across my vision, and my heart sluggishly thuds in my chest.

In record time I get out of the university and set down the street, speed walking to my apartment, blinking away my gathering tears and trying to breathe through my constricting lungs and the tightening in my throat.

No one even dared to shoot a glare in my way, let alone raise its voice only a few months ago.

If only I was rich, a word from me to my dad and Wright would have lost his job.

Hot tears trickle down my cheeks and I angrily wipe them away with the back of my hand and hug myself tighter.

I precisely did all the things he told me to do. It makes no sense.

He yelled at me! The lump in my throat grows. After what happened on Wednesday, I don't know why I thought things between me and Wright have slightly changed; as if I'm closer to him and he understands me. But I was wrong.

I try my best to hold back my tears, a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions consuming me as I hurry to my home; my only safe space. A few minutes later and I finally reach the building and enter it, rushing into the elevator, pressing the back of my hand to my mouth as it ascends, feeling my insides crumbling.

With trembling hands, I unlock the front door of my apartment, the tears streaming down my face freely.

I enter my condo and sprint to my room, locking the door and shrugging my bag off of my shoulders.

I hate being poor. Throwing aside my jacket, I plop down on my bed. I miss being rich. I can't live like this. Who says money is not important? Money is power and without power, you cannot live.

With both hands, I hold my head. I tried being strong, but I can't anymore. I'm sick of everyone treating me like I'm nothing. Absolutely worthless, no matter what I do.

Ugly sobs tear out of my mouth as I rock back and forth. It's too hard. I'm tired of being the strong one.

I bawl as my body racked. I want my old life back.

Falling on my side, I curl on my bed, tears flow down my eyes. I'm tired of trying, of pretending I'm fine. Because I'm not. It fucking hurts. My best friends' betrayals. The lack of comfort and luxury that had been my normal for my entire life. Tired of looking for jobs and being rejected, of worrying over money. Trying to be my family's support system, their strong wall to lean on. Sick of having people treating me like trash. I fucking hate being poor. I just can't do it anymore.

I miss my old life. The luxury, my friends, the freedom and not having responsibilities. Even the stupid shopping sprees and extravagant vacations every fortnight. My dad's power behind me, my mom's support keeping me high, Mason's ridiculous challenges. I miss them all so much.

Tears wet the mattress, as I hug myself tighter and cry harder. I'm tired of staying fine.

My life crumbled in front of my eyes and I can't pretend I'm okay any longer.

Eventually, the tears stop and dry on my cheeks.

I hate you, Spencer Wright.

I gaze blankly at the white wall until the thoughts and voices in my head quiet down and my eyelids get heavy, pulling me into a deep slumber.

∞ ∞ ∞

Gosh, I feel so evil for writing this chapter xD also, did you guys really think the steamy scene would actually happen this early on? lol XD

Okay, tell me your thoughts on this chapter, hope you enjoyed it, if so don't forget to vote and comment your thoughts. Also, how are we feeling about Wright? =))

The next update will be up tomorrow =)

Stay safe, lots of love happy reading <33