Against the clock

2.

Tw: none

Meredith's pov:

I sat there, fingers dancing over the keyboard, typing and retyping emails to Shepherd. Each attempt felt like a failure. I sighed and reached for my phone, hoping a fresh start would bring more clarity.

Subject: Final Project

Dear Professor

That's a good start right?

I am reaching out to you regarding my final project, for which I have learned that you are assigned as my

My what? My match? No.

my mentor. I am eager to discuss the project in more detail and seek your valuable guidance to ensure its success. May I propose a suitable time for us to meet and discuss the project specifics?

Okay, good

Thank you for your time, and I appreciate your willingness to assist me in this matter.

Kind regards

Meredith Grey

I finally hit send after wrestling with my words all morning. I was going to see him anyway, because I had another class at 4 PM from Shepherd. I couldn't risk being late again, so the coffee shop wasn't on my agenda.

A notification lit up my phone a couple hours later, prompting me to pull it out of the back pocket of my jeans. Curious, I opened the email.

NEW MAIL - Derek Shepherd - Final project

Rapidly tapping on the notification, my anticipation disappeared as I read his email.

We'll talk about if after class.

- DS

No 'kind regards' or even a simple sign-off? Who does that? Anyways, my day went on. I tried to prepare myself for the talk as best as possible. Did some last-minute research about the topic to make it seem like I knew what I'm talking about. I left early to ensure I wouldn't be late again. I definitely couldn't afford another tardy entrance.

The class ended relatively quickly, and as everyone filed out, I felt my anxiety mounting. Today, I decided to sit toward the back, giving myself a moment to gather my thoughts before approaching him. Or should I wait until he approaches me? No, I reminded myself firmly, I'm here as a student seeking help, not some awkward presence lurking in the shadows.

With a deep breath, I closed the gap between us, my steps measured as I approached his desk. His attention remained fixed on the papers spread out before him. 'Good afternoon, Professor,' I greeted him, standing in front of his desk.

'Good afternoon,' he responded, giving me a nod. His gaze lingered for a moment, and I couldn't quite decipher the expression on his face. Was it curiosity, amusement, or perhaps a hint of surprise? He still looked worn down, a noticeable change from just a few months ago. Pushing aside my uncertainty, I pressed on, determined to steer the conversation in the right direction.

'I've been doing some research on my topic,' I began, trying to gain some confidence. He leaned back in his chair. 'Take a seat,' he said, gesturing towards the chair in front of him. 'Thank you,' I responded, settling into the seat.

'I was wondering. What made you select my topic, Dr. Shepherd? Do you have a history with sexology?' I asked curiously. His eyes, momentarily distant, returned to meet mine. Blue as ever, they seemed to pierce through any facade. 'Ah, the topic,' he mused, a faint smile playing on his lips.

'I appreciate your curiosity,' Dr. Shepherd responded with a thoughtful look. 'To be honest, I don't have a personal history with sexology. However, my final paper was about how love affects the brain. I didn't choose your subject, but that could have been why they selected you, since I am familiar with some aspects of your topic.'