𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 | ✓

28

I busy myself with watching out of the glass wall. Enjoying the twinkling lights of the other skyscrapers and the city, as rain pours down, blurring my view.

Wright is still in his room, occupied with the phone.

I wish Spencer Wright was ugly. That he had beady eyes and a gigantic hawk nose, with meaty hands and a round belly, balding and reeking of sweat and beer. And of course, how can I forget, I wish he was dumb too. Like severely stupid.

Or at least, he can stay the way he is, only swaps his place with one of my classmates.

I sigh. That would have been perfect.

But when has life ever been perfect?

Maybe Melody is right, I am getting a bit too involved with him, perhaps I should consider spending more time with Brian and preoccupy myself with him. Brian is safe. And once things get heated between us, I'll probably stop gawking at my professor. I'm far past the point to deny I'm attracted to Wright but I can't distance myself from him, because I need him. And yes, only for publishing the solution... right? I cross my arms in front of my chest and promise myself to call Brian tomorrow at work.

Eventually, Wright comes out of the room and heads straight to the kitchen. We only talk when he asks how I like my coffee, how much sugar and milk, and that's it. Until he approaches me with two steaming mugs in hand and gives one to me.

I close my eyes and inhale the lovely smell of coffee before turning to him with a smile. "Thank you."

His features soften and he nods. "Tell me whenever you want dinner, I haven't checked what I have but I'm sure there's plenty."

I frown as I sip my drink. "You don't know what you have in your own fridge?"

"I don't cook," he mutters, looking straight ahead into the far distance.

I quirk an eyebrow, a sudden spark of interest makes me keep watching him.

He sips his drink, pushes back his shoulders, and tightly says, "I have a housekeeper, she comes every day, except weekends, cleans the place, and does all the cooking."

My mouth shapes an O and before I can stop myself, the words tumble out, "That explains why this place is so neat."

"Excuse me?" his head snaps to me.

I avoid his scrutiny by sipping my hot drink and lifting a shoulder, buying some time for myself. "I mean compared to the mess your office desk is, this place is sparkling."

"My desk is perfectly neat and organized."

I choke on my coffee as I struggle to stop from guffawing. "You call that organized? My gosh, it's like a whale's internal organs have burst on top of your desk and you call that neat!"

"What the- No it's not. In fact, it's in perfect order."

I snort as I laugh, "Sure."

He glares at me. "You don't have to necessarily understand every organization pattern."

"I'm just stating facts. Giving a reality check of how anyone with functioning eyesight perceives your room." I giggle.

"Well, I don't agree with your facts." He takes a swig of his drink before turning to me. "And do you go around telling your professors that their offices are a mess?"

I shrug. "No, they have a much better sense of organizing." I bite my bottom lip to stop my grin from forming.

"You really need to stop saying whatever that crosses your mind," he mumbles.