The final year at university should be special, so they said. We should go out more, establish our social circle, eat whatever we want, not take school too seriously, and do new things. Yet here I was. With my semi-wet hair from not having time to dry up properly after the morning shower, eyelids hanging dangerously low, and a pair of red eyes like a monster, I queued up in my campus coffee shop for my morning potion; the potion to keep me awake, at least until I managed to find my mentor and tricked him into accepting my submission.

Technically speaking, my mission to cheat my way to him was something I hadn't done before, which I could count as doing a new thing. Right? I swore on my red lipstick collection — the collection I never dared to wear — that I'd been a good girl in these past three years. I was too bubble-headed when it came to priorities, and it was how I ended up in this hellhole.

"Black coffee, no sugar!" the barista announced before placing a brown paper cup on the granite coffee bar, pulling me out of my inner babble.

Out of reflex, I jumped forward while slipping my phone into my jeans pocket. Just when I snatched a paper napkin from its holder on the counter, a hand sneaked in and before I could blink, my cup was in someone else's grip. My eyes instantly narrowed at my stolen coffee before I craned my neck to look at the little thief's face. Okay, saying 'little' was an understatement of the year.

"Excuse me?" I glare at the so-not-little thief, ignoring his intimidating figure.

The man stopped abruptly and looked at me with a confused expression, while I sucked in my breath when our gazes met. Before me, stood a stunning creature that I was almost sure must have been an actor or an underwear model.

He was dark, tall, and handsome. His chiseled face was defined by a pair of strong jawlines, adorned by the five o'clock shadow. The lips made a straight line, and they're pink, almost red. His eyes were coldly sharp, the kind that could give shivers as if they could see right through me. The colors reminded me of a stormy ocean in the midnight blue sky. The longer I looked at them, the stronger I was pulled into them.

"Excuse..." the man's deep voice poked my stupefaction like a needle pricking an inflating balloon, "you?"

Once I landed back in reality, I squinted my eyes at him. "What do you think you're doing? That is" — I glanced at the cup in his hand — "my coffee. Hand it back to me, please."

Instead of doing what I asked, he knitted his eyebrows. "I'm not sure I'm following you."

Okay, he was hot, I gave him that, but his dumbness canceled his hunkiness in one blink of an eye. "Alright. Let me explain. We walk into this shop, place an order, pay for it, and then wait on the sideline until our order is ready to be picked up. That's how we buy a beverage."

"That I understand," he said, staring down at me like I was the weirdo.

"No. You skipped the last step, which is waiting until your order is ready. And that," I said, pointing my finger at the cup, "is not your order because I came here and ordered that first." I extended my hand to snatch the cup from his hand. "Now, if you excuse me."

Ignoring all eyes watching us like hawks, I grabbed the lower part of the cup, avoiding his fingers over the cup sleeve as if they were going to burn me if we touched. I could blame my sleep deprivation, or my coming period for my sudden aggressiveness — or call it stupidity? — but I didn't care about the rest except for getting the coffee I paid for.

"Ouch!" the guy said as the hot black liquid spilled out of the cup and dripped down his fingers. Apparently, I grasped the cup too hard and squeezed the contents out.

Dumbfounded, my eyes followed the dripping coffee, that was now landing on the black tile floor. "Sorry, I didn't mean–"

"Uh, Jen," said a voice behind the counter. It was Bob, the boy who used to be in the same class as me and now worked part-time at the campus coffee shop. "Actually, that's his order. I just checked. Yours is coming shortly."

"Huh?" I frowned. "I don't get it. I was here first. I stood there for five minutes, waiting. He wasn't here." I would have seen him if he was. The kind of sight wasn't something I'd miss out on for sure.

"He was outside taking a phone call after ordering his drink," Bob replied.

For a second, I thought he was joking like he always did back when we still hung out together; when I still dated his cousin. But he wasn't joking at the moment because the barista behind the coffee machines nodded, confirming the truth of his statement.

"Oh." I gulped, wishing the ground had cracked open and swallowed me whole.

"I'm sorry for the misunderstanding, sir. We will make another one for you," Bob said to the guy in front of me, who was now wiping the coffee off his burned fingers with a napkin.

"No, it's fine. Not everything is spilled out, luckily. I need to get back to my office anyway," the man replied and reverted his eyes to me. "Caffeine withdrawal can be painful. I hope you feel better soon." With that, he pivoted on his heels and strode to the door, leaving me speechless with my mouth hanging open.

"Are you alright there, Jen?" Bob asked, but I didn't have to look at him to see that he was suppressing a giggle, mimicking the expression of the rest of the spectators in the room. Damn him.

"Yeah, sure," I replied before squatting to dry off the spilling coffee on the floor with the napkin in my hand. "I swear I didn't know he was here earlier."

"Yeah, I would imagine so," he said, leaning toward me over the counter. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of it. Here, your coffee is ready."

Slumping my shoulders, I got up and trudged to the counter to grab another clean napkin. "Who is he, by the way? You called him sir."

"You don't know him?"

"Nope."

"He's from the Assessment Center, but he hasn't taught a class yet. Next term, so I heard."

"So, he is a professor?"

"Yeah."

"Thank goodness I don't have any more classes after this term. No need to worry about bumping into him in the future." It's when the door slid open and a bunch of students entered the shop, giggling and squealing over something. I picked up my cup and flashed a sweet smile at Bob. "Alright. Need to get going. I'm so behind with my laboratory submission and need to find my mentor now, or he will kick me out of his group."

"Good luck!"

***

Luck. Yes, I needed that to get my mission done. Maybe more than I needed my coffee this time.

Hugging my experiment reports into my chest, I made my way to my main faculty building, where the administration and the staff members' offices were located. A spacious grass yard with flower beds on each side separated the offices from the lecture rooms, a cobble-stone path across the yard connecting the two buildings. Students often spent their sunny days in the garden, sprawling on the grass with their books, music, and friends, or sometimes just lying down to doze off between classes. At this rate, I didn't need the grass because I could fall asleep while walking now, even after chugging down my last drop of coffee.

I didn't sleep last night because I had to get my analysis done and bring these darn assignments to my mentor in person; the mentor I had not reached out to since the psychodiagnostic experiment ended two weeks ago. The mentor I had not seen in person since his assistance was only needed during the psychoanalysis reports. What sort of person was he? Rigid, easy-going, stuck up, or just like any other young professor who loved to see their students suffer just to flaunt his power?

Regardless, given how behind I was with the schedule, he might refuse to look at them, or worse, he might not accept my submission at all. And I wouldn't blame him for that.

I'd been slacking with my assignments because of the messiness I created with my schedules and priorities. Or should I say I was just too greedy for taking too many classes, believing I would be able to nail them easily? With a job at a bookstore downtown, I thought I was the shit who could conquer all: earning money, excellent GPA, and graduating early.

The fact was that my boat had split in two, leaving me alone in the middle of the sea. I breathed just right above the water, surviving wave after wave.

"Morning. How can I help you, dear?" greeted the lady behind the receptionist's desk. Betty was her name. Every student in the faculty knew her, but only the popular ones got her attention. She had a round face with a pair of bright green eyes and dirty blond curls at shoulder length. Her bangs were pulled up a little too high, reminding me of Cameron Diaz's hair gel made of sperm in There's Something About Mary, yet they framed her face pleasantly.

"Good morning, Betty. I'm looking for Mr. Andrew from the diagnostic team." My eyes swept the room as I spoke, wondering if he was within eyesight, which was useless anyway. I had no idea what my mentor looked like. "The thing is" — I flinched — "I don't have an appointment with him this morning. I just wanted to bring my assignment to him and see if he is available for a discussion today or tomorrow, maybe?"

Betty smiled, but it was hard to decide if it was a pity or an encouraging smile. "You're just in luck, girl. He just got in." She glanced at the corridor on her left side. "Second floor, room twenty-nine. Hurry, or you will miss him."

"Oh, okay," I said, feeling nervous all of a sudden. "Thanks, Betty."

Taking a deep breath, I strode along the empty corridor, passing doors with names on them: administration room, meeting room 1, meeting room 2, meeting room 3, photocopy room, and staff-only. Then I hit the end of the hall and was met with a staircase. My stomach churned at the sight for no reason. I sighed and climbed the stairs, one hand clutching my documents while the other held the metal banister a little too hard, as if my body had become ten times heavier.

This was the moment of truth. If I got rejected, I would need to retake the experiment next year, and my plan to graduate early would go down the drain. That would be how I screwed my own plans, and all this madness was for nothing.

The second floor was more secluded than the first floor, and not every light was on. I assumed most of the professors would turn up later, or they probably went straight to the classroom if they had a morning lecture. Keeping my eyes on every door, I trudged ahead until I found the number: two, nine. The door was shut, but since the wall and the door were built of glass, I could see a presence from between the diagonal line window film. I held my breath, knocked twice, then waited.

"Come in," said the voice from inside the room.

I pushed the door with my slightly shaky hand, demonstrating the brightest smile I could muster as I greeted, "Good morning, I--" I almost dropped my papers when I saw the man with jet-black hair sitting behind the wooden desk.