𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | ✓

10

Out of so many universities, and countless girls, I wonder why Mason had to sleep with Professor Wright's girlfriend and be the reason for an 'ex' prefix being added to it.

Why they had to go to the same university?

Why on earth am I so unlucky?

These questions go round and round in my head as I make my way from my college to my parents' home.

Though I'm not going to give up that easily on finding a way to convince Professor to become my adviser so I can have his name written under the paper with the theory's solution. So, while on the metro, racing in the tunnels, having nothing better to do, I Google the possible amount of money I might win if I manage to show my discovery to the world of mathematicians.

Eleven grand. I check and recheck, yet the number stays the same in all the different pages I open and scroll through. Definitely not the amount I was hoping for, but with this and the guarantee of earning a scholarship, it's worth the effort.

And it's settled, that prize is enough to inspire me to fight as hard as I can for this.

Dad and Mason can do something with eleven grand, right? It's definitely better than nothing. It ought to pull us up and over the absolute zero.

For twenty-one years, never did the zeros on the right side of the digits in my bank balance fall below five, and now I'm about to go through hell and back for eleven grand. Pitiful. Although being bitter won't help me, neither will it fix anything, so I gulp down the sourness gathering in the back of my throat and shove away each and every disheartening thought.

I dash to the familiar ugly building, climb the stairs, and knock. Tapping my foot and crossing my hands as I wait.

Mom opens the door; her tired hazel eyes light up and instantly tackles me with a bear hug. "Gracie!"

"Hey mom, I want to see Mason," and perhaps push him off of his wheelchair, or beat him with my bag. I'm keeping my options open.

Mom steps away, and I can't help but note how her blue shirt hangs loosely from her frame, showing how much weight she has lost. Or how prominent the dark circles beneath her eyes have become. I enter the house and she frowns, her gaze scans me from head to toe. "Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, nothing to be worried about." I smile and wave my hand dismissively.

"He's in his room," she says.

I nod and take off, crossing the narrow hallway, my sneakers squeaking on the floor as I go. I spy a glance in the living area and spot Dad, with his shoulders hunched and on the same armchair I saw the previous time, staring outside. Somehow it feels like he's grown smaller from two days ago that I saw him.

With a sigh, I move ahead and get to Mason's bedroom. The door is halfway open and I peer inside. Mason is on his chair, his light brown hair is neatly combed back. Perhaps they just returned from another physiotherapy session. He intently watches the tablet attached to his wheelchair, his back is almost facing me. I rap my knuckles on the white wooden door and stride in, shutting it behind myself.

He awkwardly cranes his neck and his eyes widen with surprise. With the small controller on the armrest of his wheelchair, he turns to me. "Gracie."

"Hey." I shrug out of my bag and drop it next to his bed before jumping on the mattress and making myself comfortable, even though it seems impossible on such a ridiculously hard thing.

"What are you doing here?" He tilts his head to one side as I remove my shoes and cross my legs, placing my elbows on my knees.

"Well you might not believe it, but my parents and brother live here."

He rolls his eyes. "Here for another, I have a job interview and if I land this one, with the minimum wage payment, I'll turn our lives back to normal." He imitates my tone and quirks an eyebrow at me.

He's in an oddly good mood. Regardless, I glower at him. "I'm trying to be helpful." He opens his mouth to argue but before he gets the chance, I continue, "but I'm not here for that."

With a scoff, he says, "Really?"

Planting my palms behind me and leaning to them, the sudden realization hits me like a brick in the face. The mattress is so uncomfortably hard. Unlike mine. Guilt squeezes my throat. I told them multiple times to move to my flat instead of living in a different house since Dad bought that for me as a gift when I got into this university, but Mom insisted it'd be better if we remain separate. At least until I finish my studies.

I push aside the thoughts and focus on the reason I came here for. "Do you know or perhaps remember anyone named, Spencer Wright?"

He frowns, "Spencer Wright?" he repeats, his brows furrowing further.

"Maths major," I add in a weak voice.

His mouth shapes an O before he nods. "I do, why do you ask?"

"You slept with his girlfriend."

Mason chuckles, "I did," he grins but abruptly stops and squints. "How do you know that? And what does it have anything to do with you?"

"Why did you do that?" I groan and throw my head back in exasperation.

"I asked first. Tell me, why are you interrogating me? Are you planning something? Don't do anything stupid."

I roll my eyes and I shift on my spot, stretching my legs and crossing them. "You royally screwed. He's my professor you idiot."

"And he told you that?" his eyes narrow.

"We were just talking," I shrug and he squints harder. In a pitched voice, I add, "That's not the point, and even if it was, it still would have been none of your business. Just tell me more about him."

"Why?" he asks with incredulity.

"I want to impress him."

"Are you nuts! Why would you want to do that!"

"He's my professor, why wouldn't I!" I exclaim.

"Listen, Gracie, I'm dead serious, study and just pass his class, in no way get close to him, in fact, stay as far away from him as possible." The way his sky-blue eyes bore into me and his stern voice hangs between us, makes me gape at him.

And the only word circulating in my mind finds its way out. "Why?"

∞ ∞ ∞

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