Black.

Even after flicking the lights on, that's all I see.

Until now, I had only seen black interiors on Pinterest or Instagram. But Wright's apartment is blacker than most of those too.

While my flat is on the extreme end of pastel and neutral colors, every spot in this house is black.

The walls are matte black, and the floor is pitch dark marbles with white streaks in them. We walk further in; the place is still chilly, making me shiver. The onyx-colored sofas are on the right side, their back facing us. A TV hangs from the wall on the far end, above a built-in electric fireplace.

On our left is the kitchen with black cabinets and even its island, along with the stools, are black.

But what takes my breath away, behind his small dinner table, with four chairs around it, is the view. A wall of his condo is glass, and it's like we can not only see Manhattan but entire New York.

He shuts the door as I gasp, "Wow." And walk towards the window. "The view," I mumble.

"Is great," he finishes for me as he stands beside me, a soft smile gracing his features. Wright inhales sharply and drives his hand through his hair. "Make yourself at home." He walks to the kitchen island and places his keys on it.

I survey the place and comparing it to the mess his office desk always is, here is spotless. Maybe his girlfriend keeps an eye on it... but as I observe more closely, there's not a single feminine touch.

My legs are still stiff and I can barely feel my feet, and my sneakers squeak as I wobble to the sofas. My fingers are icy and I rub my hands, hoping the friction would bring some warmth, but I halt as my eyes land on the only item with color. An abstract painting so vibrant, bursting with vivid colors, gives life to this dull place. From lilac to pink, orange, and yellow, they blend and part. The circular motions of the paintbrush are enough to have anyone stare at it for hours without getting tired.

I inch towards it. Based on old habits, I scan the canvas for a signature and find one written at the bottom left. SaVVri. I tilt my head in confusion. Never heard of that artist.

"Are you cold?" Wright's voice startles me, and I spin on my heels, coming face to face with him.

"No, I'm good." I offer a small smile.

His brows furrow and he crosses the distance. "You sure? You still look really pale." Without waiting for my response, he presses the back of his hand to my forehead, and his eyebrows knit together. He shoots me a glare. "You're freezing."

"I'm fine," I insist and retreat a step, getting out of his reach and his overwhelming cologne scent.

He studies me before taking off his glasses. Wright surveys the area, his gaze pausing on the fireplace and then jumping back on me. "Your clothes are still wet, your hair is damp too. I'll turn on the fire, but until the place warms up, take a hot shower so you won't get sick."

I gape at him for a full second as he strides past me. "No." I cross my arms.

He kneels in front of the fireplace and throws a glance over his shoulder in my way. "You'll catch a cold, and on Friday when you come to my office, you'll get me sick too and I don't want that. Instead of being so stubborn, for once just listen to me." With an irritated huff, he returns to what he's doing.

I stay rooted to my spot. "You do realize how absurd your reasoning is, right?"

He pushes himself to his feet. Small blue flames glow behind the panel. "Now is not the time for arguing."

"I have nothing with me, it's not like I knew I'd get stuck in the rain to carry spare clothes."

He pinches the bridge of his nose and inhales sharply. "I'll fix that," he says and walks to the nearest room. "Come, Stewart."

I follow him and as he flickers on the light, I'm consumed by black.

A king-sized bed is pressed to the wall with black and white pictures hanging on top of it. The curtains of the window are aside, showcasing the breathtaking view and books cover an entire side.

"The bathroom's there, take as much as time as you need, spare towels are inside. Don't worry about the rest." He speaks without looking at me as he opens the closet and quickly picks his clothes. "I'll be outside," he mumbles and passes me, shutting the door and leaving me alone in his bedroom.

I sigh and shrug off my bag, dropping it near the foot of the bed. Not that I have other options. I remove my shoes and place them next to my backpack. Hesitantly, I move to the end of his room and open the door. Why am I not surprised? It's all black, again.

The bathroom is as modern and elegant as the other parts of the house, but I can't grasp his fascination with this color. Regardless, I walk in and slowly begin the agonizing process of peeling off my wet clothes. When I'm done, I'm shivering like I've been standing under a snowstorm this entire time.

Maybe shower's not that bad of an idea. I pick my underwear drape on the last row of the silver towel warmer, ensuring it has the most contact possible to dry faster.

I step into the glass shower and with a press of a button, hot water pours on me. With the first impact I flinch, before forcing myself to stand still and allow it to do its wonders. My tense muscles relax, eventually the chill dissipates from my system. I hug myself and close my eyes.

Today could not have gone worse. Except for this afternoon, when I handed the assignment to Wright. But that feels like it was a lifetime ago.

The sheer embarrassment of having a mild panic attack in Wright's car should be enough to send me fleeing. But I have a part of Reimann theory focusing on surface and moduli spaces' solution to publish. Hence I have one option, pretend it away. Problem solving 101.

The warmth settles in me and goosebumps break out over my skin.

Running my palms over my upper arm, Everly's words replay. I squeeze my eyelids, wishing this warm water could wash them away too. Her voice, our friendship, Alex, our memories, and any remnants of that God-awful day the accident happened.

The heat and the day's exhaustion make me drowsy and when the bathroom fills with steam, I end my shower. Quickly scanning the place, I find spare towels in a neat pile under the sink. And they are white! I was half expecting them to be black. I tiptoe to them and wrap one of the fluffy ones around my body. With a bit more searching, I spot a pair of slippers and to my utmost surprise, it's white again! Upon closer inspection, I realize it's not for men. Too big for me, but better than nothing.

Maybe he does have a girlfriend.

I shove aside the thought and dry myself. Clutching the towel, I crack open the door and peer outside.

The room is empty but new clothing lays on the bed.

I snatch my underwear and I rush out, careful not to trip over my own foot. Who knew walking in slippers a size bigger than yours can be so challenging?

Between the dark blue sweater and a white button-up shirt lying on the black silk bedsheet, I opt for the shirt, considering I'll look hideous in the sweater that's three sizes too huge.

The fabric of the shirt is soft against my fingertips, making me wonder if it's new. Curiosity gets the best of me and I sniff it. The faint scent of his cologne tickles my nostrils and small smile tugs my lips.

I blink and gather my senses and ignore the slight acceleration of my heartbeat. At least I made sure my bra dries, otherwise wearing a white shirt with no bra... in front of my professor would not have been an ideal situation. I wrap the towel over my hair and quickly wear my underwear.

I eye the light gray sweatpants and put them on and pull the bands, tightening it around my waist before slipping into the shirt, buttoning it up, and only leaving the top two open. All the while being fully aware of looking like a stupid dwarf.

I sit on his bed and roll up the pant legs until it's an inch above my ankle. A girl can try to look stylish regardless of the circumstances.

I stand up and settle with the slippers as I survey the place for a mirror.

And he doesn't have a mirror in his bedroom! I hold back a gasp. Men. I shake my head and go to the bathroom, picking up my shirt and jeans, neatly laying them on the rack beneath the towel heater.

I return to the room and begin pacing as I carefully dry my hair without making it frizzy.

His impressive ceiling to floor library grabs my attention and I near it, reading their titles. To no surprise, a quarter is mathematics. Even maths' history and philosophy.

I raise an eyebrow in astonishment when I catch books from Charles Dickens, Leo Tolstoy, Virginia Woolf, and William Shakespeare! Including Romeo and Juliet! I bite my lip to stop myself from giggling. Is he a closeted softie?

By now, I half expect to see Jane Austen's novels too, but I don't. Instead, I find James Joyce, and I cringe inwards when my eyes land on Ulysses. Gosh, my nightmare. I had to read it for a foolish bet Olivia and Alex came up with when we were in high school. To prove I can finish books, especially these long, pain the ass ones, I suffered through this tedious book for three months!

I rub my brow and hold the wet towel tighter in my other hand, before I continue reading the spines, getting surprised when I see Hunger Games series, Harry Potter, The Lord of The Rings and I seize my gasp, even Percy Jackson! Who is this guy! All talk about being practical and whatnot, and reads fictional and mythology books. I am shook! I was expecting to only find non-fiction.

With a sudden burst of excitement and curiosity, I inspect the titles more feverishly. To my utmost disappointment, there are no Twilight series or Fifty Shades. What a shame.

I pursue my quest and what piques my interest is, the entire left side of the library, contains physics books, revolving around quantum mechanics. Even string theory.

When does he get the chance to read so much!

Engrossed in checking his collection, some old and wrinkly, some in better shape, I lose the track of time.

A faint knocking sound from faraway comes but I pay it no heed.

"Gracie," a firm voice calls out and I jump back, with wide eyes, facing Wright, standing in the doorway. His hair is ruffled, and still damp, falling on his brow, making him much younger. The dark green shirt and his black sweatpants are casual, but it doesn't hinder his appearance. In fact, no one should be allowed to look that good, and attractive; especially a professor.

A corner of his mouth quirks up.

Heat rushes to my cheeks as I fumble with words, "I-I was just l-looking." I wring my fingers and inhale sharply. Pull it together, Gracie, it's not like you were stealing. I muster up my courage and I overlook his amusement as he crosses the space between us and stops in front of me. "You have a lot of books." Can I be any lamer?

He shrugs, glancing at his library before turning me. His gaze leisurely travels the length of my frame, then snaps to my face, falling to my lips for a lengthy moment, quickening my heartbeat. Our eyes lock, and I stop breathing.

To hide my fluster and the effect he has on me, I hesitantly ask, "You like physics?"

He nods, breaking our eye contact, and a small smile curls his full lips. "I do, it's quite fascinating."

I grin and drop my head to cover it as I remember Ashely's constant complaints about her boyfriend giving more attention to this 'stupid science' than her. I bite my lip to stop from giggling, but it's to no avail.

"What?"

I shake with silent laughter. "Nothing."

He furrows his brows, not believing me, and I wave my free hand dismissively. "It reminded me of something," I offer, and he gives in with a smile.

Wright straightens himself and drives his fingers through his hair. "I didn't know if you preferred tea or coffee, or if you wanted to have dinner so..." his voice trails down as he fixes his stare on the library.

I fidget with the towel. "Coffee would be great."

"Good." His attention returns to me. "I'll be in the kitchen." He backs a step, a playful glint appearing in his dark blue eyes. "Feel free to go through the books as long as you like, but I don't lend them."

My face heats up, and I look away. An uncomfortable laugh stumbles out of me. "And I don't borrow books." I retort, just to have something to say to mask my embarrassment.

He heartily chuckles and leaves the room.

I roll my eyes, following him, before pressing the wet towel to my cheeks to cool it up and make the blush go away.

In the middle of the living room, I halt and awkwardly call out, "Uh... I wasn't sure where to put this." I hold up the towel.

He spins, and as he approaches me, stretching his arm towards me, he says. "I'll take that."

With my free hand, I gather my hair over one shoulder. He stops in front of me, closer than we were a few moments ago in his room. My breath hitches in my throat.

His intoxicatingly intense dark blue eyes lock with my hazel ones. A single water droplet slides down the length of my neck. His gaze follows it with such fervor it lets loose of thousands of butterflies in my stomach and a fluttering sensation erupts in my chest alongside my hammering heart.

A few stray strands of damp hair rest on his forehead, looking so soft, tempting me to run my hand through them.

His fingers brush against mine as he reaches for the towel. The contact electrifies my senses. His focus never leaves my face. I drink in his parted full lips, his defined jaw, and symmetric features.

His pupils dilate and Adam's apple bobs as he slowly moves his other hand. I resist the urge to close the minimal space between us.

A loud ringing sound echoes in the condo, snapping us out of our reverie.

He takes the towel. "My phone," he mutters and speed walks past me.

I stay rooted to that spot, panting and staring blankly at the grand skyline of the city.

This is going to be a long night.

∞ ∞ ∞

You made it! =)))) Sorry for the long chapter, but I didn't want to ruin the flow and divide it into 2 parts.

So... what are your thoughts? About the moment that happened between them? Looks like they're growing closer to each other 👀 right? xD

I hope you enjoyed it =) I guess now you can see why I was excited to write these chapters, lol. But honestly, keeping up with this daily update plan is so damn hard!

Thank you so much for reading, please vote if you enjoyed (and make my day). Bye lovelies till tomorrow :**