6:15am, it said in bright red lights of an old digital clock. It was a miserable night; the neighbors upstairs were having one of their late light beer and video game kinds of night. I'm tired of the restless night battling with the boys shouting and jumping to their games. If it were 13 years ago, I would be sleeping in my own house, in my own bedroom, and in my lovely European sheets. I definitely wouldn't be renting a small studio apartment in the West side of Seattle.

The clock started buzzing, to alarm me that it was now 6:29am, and I got one more minute to get up. I rolled over my small twin size bed to stare at my own reflection in the mirror. I smile at the thought of being able to manage to hang a long mirror on the door. To be honest, I don't exactly like looking at myself, "Why can't you be more like your mother?" my father would always ask me. My mother was beautiful, sea-blue eyes, with lashes that would make anyone blush, mahogany hair that flows naturally on her shoulders. She was perfect, not just physically, but inside as well. She was a loving mother and wife; she was my fathers' biggest achievement, Anastasia Steele Grey.

Gazing at my reflection again, I saw myself, copper-brownish hair with waves hanging below my breasts. Besides the grey eyes that I had gotten from my father, I didn't really like any other aspect of myself. I'm too tall and my round face doesn't look right with my body figure. My father always told me that I was the most beautiful girl, of course I was in his eyes, but I didn't think I was. My mother told me not to care so much about my looks because looks won't make me happy or buy me a good life.

Getting up I tie my messy hair that I washed last night in a ponytail and I put on my black slacks that I purchased at the sale rack yesterday. I put on and button a white blouse and smile at the mirror, "This will work, Ella." My name is Phoebe Ella Grey. My father insisted that I would be named Phoebe, but my mother hated the sound of that name, so did I. So growing up, despite my father's disapproval I went by Ella. It was my first day of my senior year at WSU, also my first day as a teacher's assistant. Why did I take this job? I pouted at my reflection, oh yes because I needed the extra 10-dollar an hour along with my waitress job at the schools Sport & Grill lounge. It shouldn't be too bad, the professor is my favorite Philosophy professor, Mr. Kurtz, he was my Freshmen Ethics professor, and I enjoyed all his class session.

I hated freshmen, always asking questions and always needing to get to know everyone. They are all probably looking at each other wondering who would be a friend and who would be friends-with-benefits. It was old for me to see the new crowd lusting over each other while they walk around with their pretentious smile.

Walking with two cups of coffee in my hands, and a messenger bag with the Philosophy textbook, I was ready for my first day as a TA. Just as I was about to open the door to the Universal Theatre, where class is held, an idiot pushes on the door from inside, making me spill the cups of coffee that . "You stupid fool, that was your professors Americano coffee that you just spilled all over my shirt."

"I'm so sorry," a masculine voice said to me as his firm hand touched mine as he tried to help clean my blouse.

"Don't touch me!" I shouted as I gazed up to his face. It was then that I caught his eyes locked to mine.

He looked older than most of the college students but not over thirty-one. He must be a late college student, I assumed. Probably, was wasting his youth by drinking and having casual sex. I only think that because he was too damn attractive. He has green eyes, but in the sunlight it look like honey- brown…hmm its hazel eyes that he got. He was wearing dark blue jeans, not those faded ones with holes that were suppose to be a style. His jeans were slim fitted and they hugged his legs just right. Along with the jeans was a button light grey stripes that was tucked under his jeans. For a minute, I let my mind wonder how he would look underneath his designer clothes. Stop it Ella, I scolded.

"Are you alright?" he said sounding very confused and baffled.

"I'm fine, just look next time you open the door, and why are you leaving? Class is starting in just a couple of minutes."

He took a better look at me, as if I was a lab specimen on a desk to be examined from head to toe. Then he said, "You go ahead, I'll be right in." And just like that he walked away. I watched him walking away, and shook my head at his carelessness.

8:00am it said on the clock that hangs on the wall. It is strange that Professor Kurtz is not here yet; he had always been early, never late. I was sitting next to the podium clicking a mechanical pencil staring at the students facing me. Some shouted, "Are you the teacher?" "When are you starting?"

"Sorry, Professor Kurtz must be running late, I am Ella, your professors TA…" My face started to blush red as students became more and more unsettled.

"Quiet down class, and good morning, I am Professor Matthews," a voice I heard just moments ago saying as he walked down the aisle with a cup of coffee in his right hand. The students did as told and all eyes were on him. He is more attractive now than earlier, with a stern authoritative voice. I almost fell off the chair as he announced that he was now taking over the class as Professor Kurtz decided to take a longer vacation with his wife in Europe this past summer. I wanted to find a hole to crawl in as I remembered how I yelled at him earlier. He approached me and with a grin on his face he handed me his cup of coffee. "Ice Americano lightly sweetened?"