"I hate him!" Grace shrieks, throwing all her shopping bags against her bedroom wall; her breaths shallow.

Grace sinks onto her bed, her gaze on the large heap of shopping bags.

"He made me do this."

After her encounter with Raymond, Grace had far too many emotions pent up within her to simply go home, so she did the only thing she knew would drain all that negative energy out; shop. And that's what she did.For the next 3 hours Grace weaved in and out stores buying things she thought she needed and throwing things in the basket she knew she truly didn't.

Swish, swish, swish.

Holding her hands tightly against her ears, Grace grimaces as she remembers the sound of her credit card, dragging across the card machine.

"Ma'am that will be $650." The woman at H&M had said.

"$450, cash or credit?" Mumbled the elderly man at the camping store.

"$2000.89." Mocked the cashier at Louis Vuitton, as she swiped the card out of Grace's hands.

"$900."

"$850."

"$550, ma'am."

"Ug, I get it, I get it."

Grace shoots off the bed only to clamour down when she sees her familiar, floral bed covers and messy pile of clothes in the corner of the room.

"I'm home." She whispers, as she quickly collapses onto the bed, her arms spread over her head.

Rolling over to her side, a tears slip past her eyes ,creating a small, sad puddle of moisture.

"How am I supposed to pay my rent now?"

After her shopping spree in Pandora, Grace knew she had just enough to pay her landlord but now, not only was the rent way past her affordability, her account was currently sitting at -$3050, something she learned when the bank had sent her text asking her whether she currently had her card on her because a mysterious number of transactions had occurred over a short period of time.

Shopping should have solved all of her issues but instead it just created a whole new basket full.

"Young, dumb and broke." Recites Grace, a miserable smile on her face. "Mr.Khalid, I can now finally relate."

Grace quickly glances at her silver clock, a present from Vic, that hangs over her small make-up table.

"21:45, ah, I better get ready."

Rolling herself off her bed, Grace creeps towards the pile of bags, her back hunched and arms battle ready, fearing that the bags might explode and somehow leave her broker, when her entire apartment goes up in flames.

"It's okay, I'm just going to stuff you in here." Grace coos, as she harshly shoves all the bags behind her bathroom door. "I'll deal with you later, perhaps when I have enough energy leftover to be able to deal with falling into a full blown out depression."

Grace saunters into her walk-in closet and reaches for her washed purple, maxed, workout shirt and black crumpled up shorts.

"Oh, how I wish I could wear you." Grace sighs, dreamily gazing at her classic Louis Vuitton heels. "But running in you would not only cause me blisters but would definitely ruin your perfect soles."

Instead, Grace grabs her ancient running shoes that she last wore a couple years back when her and Vic had gone through a short phase of endurance training.

Grabbing her phone, a bright, pink sticky note and her car keys; Grace quickly locks her front door and enters her car.

"He better be there." She mumbles, starting the short journey to Central Park.

Grace slumps against the park bench as she glances at her phone for the 20th time.

"Where is this guy its been 20 minutes now."Grace groans, sinking deeper into the bench.

After her conversation with Mrs.Cho, Grace knew exactly how to catch Mr.Maxwell at his most peaceful state; when he was running. She had caught him, or more like he had found her, here twice now and each time she found him he was mid-jog. Other than working, this is the only thing Grace has witnessed him do.

"Come on, Mr.Maxwell, I don't have time for this."Grace mumbles, glancing down the dark and gloomy pathway which seems to lead to a dark abyss.

Five minutes later, Grace spots a dark figure moving out the darkness and coming straight towards her.

"It's him, shucks." Grace whispers, her head bent down low. "What do I do? I should have practiced this first."

Grace quickly swoops her things and hides behind the bench, watching through the spaces in-between the wood, as the dark figure moves closer.

"Hello Mr.Maxwell, I thought you would maybe-" Grace mewls out. "No, that sounds dumb."

Grace quickly shuts her mouth as she gets a perfect view of Mr.Maxwell.

Yum, by me a heel and call me impressed.

Dressed in clad shorts, a loose grey shirt and very expensive running shoes, Mr.Maxwell looks like a model straight out of a mens magazine, the workout edition. The only thing she could say that looked less than prefect was the sweat that stuck to him and pumped out profusely with each step he took.

Sweat.Ew.

There are many reasons why Grace never exercised she was always either too lazy, too tired, too bored or too busy; she was alway 'too' something but the reason that topped them all was sweat. Just thinking about it sent a shiver through Grace.

People just never seemed to understand why Grace was so squeamish around sweat, what they failed to understand time and time again is that is was 'simply and downright disgusting'.

"I feel like I'm going to puke." Mutters Grace, watching as one drop emerges from Mr.Maxwell's perfectly styled hair, rolls over, past his stormy grey eyes, onto his sharp nose and finally drops down his sculpted chin as it lands onto the dry, pathway; to its death.

Wringing her hands together, Grace calms herself down as the sound of his footsteps hit heavily on the pavement; fast approaching.

"Just don't look directly at the sweat, okay?" Grace mutters, as she watches him approach. "Let's do this."

Mr.Maxwell quickens his pace as he spots the familiar bench but stops when a bed full of curls pops out from behind it; a large smile on its face.

"Hello Mr.Maxwell, mind if I join?"