𝐏𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧' 𝐆𝐮𝐲 ➺ 𝐵𝓇𝒾𝒶𝓃 𝑀𝒶𝓎 & 𝒬𝓊𝑒𝑒𝓃

(2) 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘹𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦

I felt like a hammer had swung right into the side of my head as the sound of something fizzing enveloped my brain. With an unsatisfied groan, I lifted my head to see Emma placing an aspirin on the coffee table.

"Maria, hun, it's 10:30."

I could barely open my eyes, the sunlight burning them and making my hangover more intense than it needed to be. "I need some sunglasses." I murmured, whining shortly after.

I pulled myself up from the sofa, rubbing my eyes. It wasn't my intention to get that hammered, I promise. Sometimes, I just get out of hand.

"What time is it again?" My voice was groggy, and my joints ached. I managed to hold the glass with the aspirin tight enough so I wouldn't drop it. Emma plopped on the sofa next to me, handing me a plate with a slice of toast on it.

"Half 10. What time is your meeting?" I looked at Emma, noticing she too had a pale complexion and didn't look very well, most likely due to last night's escapades.

When is my meeting... oh shit!

I quickly downed the aspirin and took a bite out of the toast, hopping to my feet. I must have gotten up too quickly, as I immediately felt queasy, my vision blurring. No, you have to steady yourself.

"I won't be too long, um," I scrambled for my converse, whilst trying to straighten my hair out. "I think there's some pasta from the other night in the fridge, I gotta go, love you." And with that, I left Emma alone.

To say that my flat was owned by Imperial, it was such a long walk to get to the main campus. It was times like these when I wished I had a car, or at least knew someone who owned a car.

It was one of those walks where your calves burn, really burn. When you know just how long you have left to walk, but your feet can't seem to take you there fast enough. When your brain is just filled of nothing but determination to get to where you're headed – even if it isn't even that important. Yeah, walks like that stressed me out big time.

With only a few minutes to spare, I walked through the double doors of the college atrium, heading straight for the lift. There's no way I'm walking up 5 flights of stairs feeling like pure death.

Much to my dismay, when I held out my finger to press the button, there was a piece of paper, with 'out of order' written on it.

Great, I thought.

I swear I could've started crying at the 3rd flight. My legs hurt, I started to feel overbearingly hot, and I felt as if I was about to pass out at any moment. Fuck alcohol.

I did, however, make it to my professor's room, which was also mine and Emma's lecture room. It was plastered with photos and information of the achievements of the music industry's most successful managers and publishers. John Reid was the focus of my studies that term; I was rather fascinated by his involvement with Elton John. He was a big name in the record industry, and he came from literally nothing, which made it even the more respectable.

As expected, I saw my professor sat at his desk, papers in front of him which he was looking over.

"Ah, Maria. You're late." Those weren't the words I was anticipating... but I deserved it for being, what, 20 minutes late.

"Yes, Sir, I apologise. I must have slept in." I said, trying to hide the fact I was terribly out of breath. I laughed what was meant to be softly, but it came out more of an exaggerated sigh of discomfort.

"Sit down."

Placing my bag on the floor, I was thankful for the opportunity to not be stood up for a second longer. My feet ached with satisfaction.