Grey (The Spectrum Series: #1) (PUBLISHED)

Chapter Eight

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The rest of the weekend thankfully flies by. I spent Sunday planning the week in my planner, at the Library. I was lucky to have found it as I was studying the layout of the campus and visiting the buildings my classes were in, that way I'm not scrambling back and forth between classes. I don't want to take the chance at being late for any class.

As for the party Friday night, after my mortifying and disgusted run-in with Grey and that girl, I decided to leave early. I lost my ridiculous need to prove him wrong gave away the moment that bathroom door opened. Now I can focus on the important things — school. And getting ready for it is the first step before diving into work.

I beat my alarm set for 5 a.m. Smiling proudly at the flashing numbers 4:30, I push the sheets off my body and stretch out my arms. I yawn as I grab my toiletry and towel. The good thing about waking up at the crack of dawn is the empty stalls. I take my time showering, scrubbing my skin clean of any possible distractions like that Grey. Just thinking his name makes me grit my teeth together. But as I splash water on my face at the sink, his name dissolves and leaks out of my mind.

"You can do this," I prep myself.

I finish brushing my teeth, and walk back to the room. I dry myself and put on a bra and panties, then saunter over to the closet door, where my clothes I ironed just for today, hang, waiting for me. Imagining myself scrambling at the last minute looking for something to wear sends a chill through my body. It is always better to be prepared than to be all over the place.

I smile appreciatively in the mirror leaning against the corner on my side of the room. I decided on a light beige cardigan over a plain white dress shirt with cut off sleeves, a iron pencil skirt, and white ballet flats. As I gently run a finger along my hair that's strained up into the neat and perfect bun I assemble, I imagine Louise over my shoulder.

She'd tell me how presentable I look. And even go as far as saying pretty, but I'd brush her off and tell her looking 'pretty' is objectifying. You are meant to look presentable and well-kept while doing your studies. Not pretty. I don't even know why she says things like that. It's silly.

I bring my wrist with the shiny silver watch Louise gave me for my birthday last year, and sling my backpack through my arms. It's 5:10, and I want to pick up my medication. Speaking of which — I pick up the small bottle of my prescription medicine, frowning. I have anemia, which means I have a low count of healthy red blood cells. There are only two left. But knowing that I'm getting more soon, I shake one out and swallow it with the help of some water I brought back from the bathroom sink. Not exactly clean, but it'll help just this once.

Paranoid, like usual, I check my watch then leave. The sun is peaking through the forest that surrounds the campus, and I take the moment to appreciate the location of the University. It's practically tucked in breath-taking wood-lands, filled with plush grass, soft breezes and the enticing smell of nature. I may sound cheesy, but I've always adored nature. The fresh and raw entirety of it all appeals to me. Sometimes I think I'd be happier out there.

My cardigan vibrates, and I pull out my phone. I'm briefly confused and surprised when I see my mother's name on the screen. Nevertheless, I answer with a pep in my voice. This is my first at College; I could use her cheeriness, if she allows it to come out of hiding. I'm joking, of course.

"Hello, Mother," I say, "it is so good to see you called."

"Hello, dear," she replies, her tone flat, like usual. My smile falters but it stays strong. "Today is the first of your class, am I right?"