An entire week goes by and I fail to not ponder over Spencer's words at the dinner date we had. If that could be called a dinner date.

After our little heavy talk, things moved to lighter things, and eventually, well past midnight, he drove me back to my apartment. In the entire week, I stayed true to my side of the bargain, no more flirting with guys in front of him, or behind his back.

But even though I've been swarmed with assignments and studying and keeping up with the research, trying and failing to persuade Spencer to solve something; I haven't been able to not think about Dad, Benjamin Stewart, and William Wright.

Maybe it's because, in a few days' time, two months will be marked from Dad's passing away. It'd be a lie if I say the wound has been healed. It still aches, just not as fiercely as it did on the first few days and the first week.

Spencer canceled our Friday session, so here I am, on a Monday night, once more marching across his apartment's lobby, but this time solely for academic purposes. Though I wouldn't object if things escalated, I highly doubt it would.

As the elevator takes me up, I can't help but replay the things we did, or he did to me, on my previous visit.

I bite my bottom lip to stop myself from giggling as my cheeks flare, but I can't stop the butterflies from fluttering crazily in my stomach and some of them escaping to my chest.

Even though I should be concerned about the effect he has on me, I can't bring myself to do that. All of these feelings, these insane rushes of emotion are all too new and exhilarating, something I've never experienced before. I don't want to risk losing or ruining them with overthinking and worrying. For now, I'm just going to enjoy it.

I ring the doorbell and it takes longer than the last time for him to open it. When he does, I instantly notice the dark circles underneath his eyes and his ruffled hair, he even looks paler than usual. His black sweater's sleeves are lazily pushed up to his elbows and the hand that's not holding the door open is shoved into the pocket of his grey sweatpants.

I frown, and try to keep my voice steady as I ask with worry, "Are you sick?"

A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. "Hi to you too. You're late." He steps aside for me and I enter his house.

"You always say that," I grumble, walking past him.

"Because you're always late. Ever tried being on time?" he shoots back while closing the door.

I turn to him, ignoring his comment, and plant my hands on my hips. "Well, are you sick?"

"No, just tired," he dismissively says and walks to the dining table.

"We can work on the research another time," I offer but follow him anyway.

He shakes his head. "It's fine, I don't want us to fall behind on our schedule."

I sigh and drop my backpack on the floor, next to the leg of one of the chairs.

Spencer leans to the edge of the table, watching me as I observe him from head to toe. "Why are you staring at me?" he crosses his arms in front of his chest.

I roll my eyes as I shrug out of my coat. "You really look sick."

He huffs, "I just got back from a trip, I'm just tired."

Oh. My eyebrows jump with surprise as I drape my coat on the other chair. "From where?" I ask unable to contain my curiosity.

The smile that never fails to make my heart flutter and the butterflies in my stomach go crazy breaks across his face.

"I still have a postdoc to work on... in MIT."

Right. I sheepishly smile at him. Somehow, I had completely forgotten about that.

He drives his hand through his hair. "I didn't know where you'd be more comfortable to work at... here, or there." He points at the living room's comfortable couches. "Or my study... though I don't think that would be a good option."

"No surprise in that," I mumble, holding back my giggle.

He throws a glare in my way, but the faint amusement glinting in his eyes makes it harder to take it seriously. "Well?"

"I think here would be the best." And without waiting for his answer, I pull back the chair nearest to me and settle down.

He sits on my left as I take out my textbook and notes.

With a sigh I lean back into my chair, making him furrow his brows. "I know you're tired... but I really want to solve something instead of analyzing and coming up with an easier method for solving an easy question."

"Not this again," he mutters, rubbing his brow.

I turn to him with pleading eyes and leaning slightly to him. "Why not?"

He gives me an exasperated look.

"I've thought about it. You're right, it might seem like you've done all the work but as long as my name comes under yours, anyone who sees it will be like well at least I was there and knew what was going on, making me a stronger, better student."

He groans. "We've been over this. Given the timeline-"

"I can wait. I know we've sent out the applications, but I can wait a year to apply again if it would mean I'll have a better shot at getting a full scholarship from one of the good universities."

"That's a risk."

I push a strand of my hair behind my ear, drawing in a sharp breath. "I was hoping you would help with the applications again if it got to that point," I mumble, fidgeting with my fingers. I gulp and meet his eyes. "I mean, if you'd agree to help me, I'd have a higher chance, right? Because you know better."

"And I'm saying, not risking an entire year of gap between studies is better."

My shoulders drop and I lean back into my seat. Watching out of the glass wall, I cross my arms in front of my chest. "Fine. Then I don't want to work on this research either."

My initial plan wasn't this. From day one, I have been planning to be subtle about this, soft and seductive move ahead until I get what I want. Now a voice in the back of my head is urging me to be straightforward and see where it goes.

He scoffs, "So it's all or nothing?"

I nod.

"That's just stupid."

I purse my lips and shrug.

"We've put so much time, you can't possibly be serious." From the corner of my eye, I catch the movement of his hand as he waves them while talking.

"I am serious. I want to solve something... I want to solve-" I pause, drawing in a sharp breath hoping to steady my suddenly ragging heartbeat, though it doesn't help.

I stare harder at one of the skyscraper's top lights visible from my vantage point. Even though my mouth is dry and my muscles lock with anxiety, I manage to announce my intention, though not completely. "I want to solve a part of Reimann."

He laughs but abruptly stops when he takes in my stern expression. "You're not joking?" he asks with disbelief. "You want to offer proof for a part of the Reimann hypothesis?" he exclaims, his eyes boring into the side of my head.

I don't dare to meet his eyes. If he's showing such an extreme reaction to my water-downed plan, I can't even imagine what his actual reaction would be if I tell him I've been working on the solution for the entire hypothesis and not just some part of it. Though it might not be complete and he has to fill up some of the gaps in my solution, but I'm pretty sure the path I'm going for the proof is actually correct. I can feel it in my bones.

"Gracie," he calls my name, his voice softer and calmer than a minute ago.

I gather my courage and shift on my seat to meet his eyes.

He releases a rush of air through his parted full lips, making my breath hitch, in a bad way, because I can see the engines turning in his head through his eyes. Clearly, he's struggling to find the right words to call out how stupid I sound.

Spencer straightens himself and pushes his glasses up. "I understand you idolize that mathematician, the first woman who won a Fields prize, but even she wasn't an undergrad when she did that," he slowly speaks, as if hoping the words would sink in better if he stresses on each of them enough.

My eyes drop to my hands in my lap. I lift a shoulder and half of my hair falls over it, shielding my face from his scrutiny. "It's not just that," I feebly mumble.

"Then what is it?" I expected him to be annoyed, but his voice is tender and laced with concern.

He waits for me to answer, when it stretches to almost an entire minute, hesitantly he moves to me and brushes my hair out of my face, tucking the locks behind my ear. "Gracie, you can tell me."

I lick my bottom lip, my shoulders hunching as I press my legs tighter as if subconsciously trying to take less space. "It's- I..." I shift on my seat, fumbling with words. His gaze is fixated on me, patiently waiting as I struggle to put the right words together. "I need to solve something."

Through my lashes, I peer at him. First, he furrows his brows, blinking a few times then narrows his eyes, he locks his gaze with me. "Need?"

I nod. "Research isn't enough."

He presses his lips into a thin line and leans away from me, looking at the skyline visible from the glass wall. After a long while he says, "I don't understand." With that, he turns to me, arching an eyebrow, waiting for a further explanation.

Never in my planning did I ever imagine things would turn out like this. Nerves jittering and my heart hammering, I shoot up from my seat and begin pacing. To let go of the building anxiety and not have to look at him and endure his steady gaze on me.

"I want to do something huge and remarkable. And research is not enough. I need to solve something that's important, that it matters, and it'd make a difference... I need to set something right," I explain as go up and down the length of the dining table.

I wait for him to say something, or even question my sanity. But he does nothing. Long moments of silence stretch between us.

I decide to go on without turning to look at him. "Look at it like this, if I pull it off, I mean, we pull it off, I'll land a full scholarship, no need to go under student loan for tuitions and everything. On top of that, I can easily get into one of the top three universities, without so much as a hitch and there'll be a prize too. It'll set my life right." With wide eyes I turn to him, with my hands in the air, finally, I meet his dark blue eyes.

He stares at me blankly, I offer a tight-lipped smile, raising both of my eyebrows.

Spencer remains still.

Maybe about a minute goes by and yet he doesn't make a move. My shoulders drop and the little hint of excitement, or hysteria in me fades away.

Slowly he stands, his eyes observing me the way a scientist would study its object of interest. With deliberate steps, he nears me and stands at an arm's length apart from me.

"And for this entire plan of yours to work out, you've decided what you want to solve is going to be Reimann?" he questions at last.

I can't decipher his mood and my heartbeat's rate goes up again. Tentatively I nod.

"Why Reimann?" He tilts his head ever so slightly.

I lift my shoulders. "Because it's a millennial question. It's huge and important. It's something almost every mathematician has been after its proof."

"Exactly. Hundreds of mathematicians have been after it since it was presented. What makes you think you'll be able to solve it?"

My mouth goes dry and I draw a shaky breath. I struggle to meet his intense eyes. "Because they wanted to solve it... but I need to."

He's taken aback by my answer, arching a brow and pushing up his glasses as he straightens himself.

After a prolonged second, I add softly, "I'll have your help too, right?" I crane my neck slightly to lock my eyes with his. "Maybe we'll be able to do it together."

He sighs and rubs his forehead, angling himself towards the glass wall.

I hold my breath as I wait for his reaction, but a mask of blankness is drawn over his features.

"Why do you want to set something right?" his voice is low, barely a whisper.

I frown. "What?"

He turns to me, concern creasing his brow. "You said you need to set something right... you need to solve something that's important and it'd make a difference. Well, why?"

I play dumb because this discussion was never supposed to take this turn and I'm not ready to tell him a major part of the truth. "What do you mean why? Don't you want to solve something important?"

"Precisely. I want to and you are claiming, you need to. Why?"

I shake my head and shrug, trying to act nonchalant but it's like he can see through my pretense with ease.

"It has something to do with your family, doesn't it?"

I freeze and it's all the clue he required to be sure of his theory.

"You do realize solving a mathematical problem won't ever fix your personal issues. Presenting a proof for Reimann is not going to fix anything for you."

I purse my lips. "How would you know that? There's no sure way to tell." I cross my arms in front of my chest, glaring at him. "Maybe it will. Maybe this is all I need to set my life right, to fix everything and make it go back to normal... or as normal as it can get."

His mouth hangs open with disbelief. "Are you even hearing yourself?"

"I need to solve this problem because I know, I'm sure, this single solution is going to be the answer-"

He interrupts me, "To none of your problems Gracie. Why do you feel the need to fix something? If this is about you blaming yourself for your father's death then I have to remind you, it was not your fault. On top of that even if you did solve this, it won't change anything for you."

My bottom lip quivers. I don't want to believe him. In fact, I don't even want to listen to him. He's wrong. He has to be because I know what will right my life. And this solution is the answer.

"Gracie," he says in a much softer voice, taking a step towards me. That's when I realize a tear has escaped from my eye and is skidding down my cheek. I roughly wipe it away with the back of my hand and look away.

"You don't understand," my voice breaks, my eyes burn with the gathering tears.

"Then make me understand."

I shake my head, afraid if I talk the little control I have over myself will slip and I'll break down in front of him. Again.

"I know it's hard, but you need to be practical. This will only make you hurt more. I understand you feel like you have to fix all the problems thrown at you and your family right now, but this isn't the answer. This solution is not going-"

"It will. It has to," I cut him off sharply and meet his eyes. "I'll get into a good university along with a scholarship, there has to be some prize money in it somewhere too. On top of that I can easily land a job with that solution in my resume. It's going to fix all my problems. And with that, my life, Mason's and my mom's lives will go back to normal. Just to the way it was."

He pinches the bridge of his nose. "It's not your responsibility to fix what's entirely out of your control."

"It is," my voice breaks, and the tears stream down my face. I look away, though no matter how hard I try to stop the tears from flowing it's futile. "It's all my fault, so I have to be the one to fix it. And I will." I wipe away the tears furiously. Mad at myself, at Spencer, at everyone and everything.

"It's not-" he starts but I interrupt him.

"You don't know anything!" I cry out, surprising him. I tap on my chest multiple times with my palm. "It was my fault. All of it."

Worry taints his features; he reaches for me but I step back shaking my head as a fit of hysteria breaks over me as I lose the last string of my self-control.

"I was driving. I was the one behind the wheel when the accident happened. I ruined my brother's life. Maybe if he was driving nothing would have happened. Or at least he would have been fine. But no. And I made my dad go through that pain and helplessness just when he lost everything in his life. I made it worse for everyone." I retreat another step, the tears refusing to come to a halt.

"And if Mason was okay, he would have definitely found a job... he never would have let anything go so bad. Mason would have fixed everything and we would've been right back on track, maybe even Dad would have been alive. But I took that chance away, I ruined everything and I can't do anything because I'm useless and-" my voice breaks again as I sob.

"Okay, that's enough," he says at the same time as my voice and words fail me and pulls me to his arms in a tight hug.

I sob harder into his chest as he holds me tightly, one hand around my shoulder and the other resting on the back of my head as I cling to him, ruining his shirt with my stupid tears.

Spencer doesn't let go, he holds me until my sobs turn to hiccups and finally die out all the while tightening his hold around my shoulder and caressing my hair.

When I've finally quieted down, he leans his head to me. "Do you really believe this is what you need?" he softly asks, locking his eyes with mine and brushing away the remnants of the tears from my cheeks.

I nod. "I do." I sound hoarse even to myself, I can't even imagine how awful I must look in his eyes.

"And you want me to help you with this entire plan?"

"You're the only person I trust," I hesitantly admit.

His features soften even more. The corners of his lips twitch upwards for a flash before disappearing and giving place to concern. He inhales a deep shaky breath, his gaze wanders around the room as he thinks.

I crane my neck to study his face better, from the constant shifts in his features it's easy to say he's conflicted.

Long moments of silence go by, but his arms stay around me. I can't bring myself to step away from the warmth of his body and his musky scent, shoving away all the pain and trouble to the back of my head.

Eventually, his hand moves to my hair, twirling a lock around his finger. "My postdoc is on Reimann... well partly... I suppose I have to put that on hold if I want to be able to fit this new plan into my schedule," he speaks. His eyes are fixed on the wall behind me as if he can see something in that spot invisible to my eyes.

With a sigh, he drops his gaze to my face. My breath hitches as his fingers continue to deftly play with my hair.

"There's no guarantee we'll be able to pull it off..." he mumbles though it's like mostly he's talking to himself.

Pleadingly I gaze at him.

"I guess we can give it a try."

My eyes widen, the cloud of despair suddenly vanishing. I hold my breath, scared that I might have heard him wrong or misinterpreted his words. "You'll-" weakly I start.

He smiles the same soft, heart-throbbing smile. "Yes, I'll help you as much as I can."

The happiness bursting inside perhaps it's one of the strongest rushes of emotion I've ever felt in my entire life. The excitement buzzes in me, life turns bright once more. I throw my arms around his neck and hug him as tightly as I can.

"Thank you thank you thank you," I babble, making him chuckle and wrap his arms around my waist.

At this moment, nothing can be more perfect.

∞ ∞ ∞

At last =)

Well, comment your thoughts on this chapter =)

Also, I had a question, would you guys, my dearest readers, be interested in a sequel? It won't be as long as this... but yeah, would you guys want to read the sequel of this story? Or do you want Gracie and Spencer's story to end with this book?

The ending I've decided for this story pretty much NEEDS a sequel (because I've prepared all the settings of the plotline for the sequel throughout the book, I'll have to either omit them or somehow manage to wrap them up), because, if you guys wouldn't be interested in their story drawing out further, then it'll be pretty much pointless, right? So, if you think the sequel would be dragging this story on unnecessarily, now is the time to tell me xD

Well, that's it.

Tomorrow we'll have a double update (as promised ^^)

Thank you so much for reading *.*

Stay safe, lots of love, happy reading ^^