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jive-buggy · 6 months

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𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑎 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑

𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑥 𝐹𝑒𝑚!𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐴/𝑁: 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑏𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝐴 𝐹𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑦 𝐺𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑖, 𝑠𝑜 𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡, 𝑜𝑟 𝑑𝑜𝑛𝑡 𝑖𝑑𝑟𝑐 𝑒𝑖𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑦𝑦𝑦𝑦𝑦, 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑖 𝑑𝑖𝑑𝑛𝑡 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑦𝑟𝑖𝑐𝑠 𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛, 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑗𝑢𝑠 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠

𝑝.𝑠. 𝐴𝑙𝑙 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 "𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙" 𝑖𝑠 𝑢 𝑏𝑡𝑤𝑤, 𝑖𝑚 𝑗𝑢𝑠 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑎𝑛 𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑜 𝑢 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠🙏🙏

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"𝐼 𝑚𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑚𝑦 𝑒𝑥"

"𝐻𝑖 𝑖𝑚 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦, 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑃𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑠𝑠" 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 ℎ𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑙𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑘 ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑖𝑡, "𝑁𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢" 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒, 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑢𝑝 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟. 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑑𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎 𝑟𝑢𝑑𝑒, 𝑔𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑝𝑒𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑡 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒𝑑 𝑊𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑠𝑡 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑜𝑜𝑟 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑢𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑖𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘𝑠 𝑢𝑝 "𝐺𝑜𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑎 𝑝𝑒𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒?", 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑛𝑜𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑑 "𝐻𝑒𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑠 𝑖 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑠".

"𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑖 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎 𝑏𝑜𝑦𝑓𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑛𝑑"

𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑝 𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑚𝑒𝑡, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑚 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑟 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑣𝑢𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑢𝑡𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑, 𝑎𝑛𝑦 𝑖𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑖𝑐 𝑑𝑢𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦.

𝑊𝑒𝑠 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑜 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒, ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑟𝑑 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑒𝑐𝑎𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑏𝑟𝑢𝑠ℎ ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑜𝑓𝑓, "𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑖 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 'ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 ℎ𝑜𝑚𝑖𝑒𝑠' 𝑊𝑒𝑠." 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 ℎ𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ ℎ𝑒 ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦.

"𝐵𝑢𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑑"

𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑊𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑛 𝑎, 𝑤ℎ𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑒𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑔𝑜 𝑝𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑛��𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑙𝑖𝑝 𝑐𝑜𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑 𝑦𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. 𝑆ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑝𝑢𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑊𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟, "𝐼𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦 𝑊𝑒𝑠, 𝑖𝑚 𝑗𝑢𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑑", ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑟𝑎𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑜𝑢𝑑𝑙𝑦 "𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑦��𝑜𝑟𝑒" ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑟𝑢𝑚𝑏𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑏𝑒𝑑, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 [ℎ/𝑐] 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑠𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑒𝑑 "𝐼 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤, 𝑖𝑚 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦". 𝑑𝑎𝑚𝑛𝑖𝑡 𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦.

"𝐼 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑑𝑟𝑢𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑖 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟"

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑡 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦𝑠 𝑎𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑟𝑙𝑦 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑖𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑎𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡𝑤𝑜, 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑒𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑝𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑠𝑜𝑏𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ𝑡, "𝑆𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑐𝑢𝑡𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑠 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑡" 𝑠𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 [ℎ/𝑐] 𝑔𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑛𝑠𝑒, "𝐼 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢" 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑙𝑎𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑎𝑛𝑑 "𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑒𝑠𝑡".

"𝐷𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑚𝑒? 𝐷𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘?"

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒, 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑜𝑓𝑡, 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜𝑢𝑐ℎ𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑢𝑎𝑙. 𝐴𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑖𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑝𝑙𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑠 𝑎𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 [ℎ/𝑐] 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑓𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑔𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑗𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 [𝑒/𝑐] 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑓𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑑, 𝑑𝑖𝑑 𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟? 𝑜𝑟 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑢𝑛𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒?

"𝑆𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟, 𝑤𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑡 𝑎 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡. 𝑊ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑠 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑠 𝑜𝑓𝑓, 𝑖 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑒"

𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑘𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑖𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡, 𝑤𝑎𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒, 𝑑𝑜 𝑠𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒, 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘 𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑡, 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑜𝑛 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑏𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑡𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑎 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑡𝑠, 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑑𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑡𝑢𝑓𝑓 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑜𝑠𝑡𝑜𝑛 𝑠ℎ𝑎𝑘𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑, "𝐶𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑠?" 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑛𝑜𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑑 "𝐻𝑜𝑤 𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎 𝑚𝑎𝑖 𝑡𝑎𝑖" 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑔𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑛𝑒. 𝑁𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠𝑛𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑑𝑑 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡.

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑚𝑜𝑠𝑡 10 𝑐𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑡𝑎𝑖𝑙𝑠 𝑖𝑛. 𝐸𝑎𝑐ℎ, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡.

𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑑 𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑑, 𝑐𝑢𝑑𝑑𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑒𝑡𝑠. 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 [ℎ/𝑐] 𝑙𝑜𝑐𝑘𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑘𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑒𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑣𝑎𝑟𝑖𝑜𝑢𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑔𝑜𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛 𝑑𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑎𝑙𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑓𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑖𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑎𝑑𝑛𝑡 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑢𝑝 𝑎𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑤 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑏𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑑 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦𝑠 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑦 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑚𝑎𝑑𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑛𝑜𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑜𝑤𝑛 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑝𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑓 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑐ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑡. "𝐻𝑖" 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑝𝑠, "𝑖 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑛𝑎 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑦𝑜𝑢" 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑙𝑎𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑𝑠 𝑠𝑝𝑜𝑘𝑒𝑛 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑝𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑒𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦𝑠 𝑓𝑎𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟, 𝑎 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑒, 𝑙𝑢𝑠𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑙𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠 𝑤ℎ𝑖𝑐ℎ 𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑏𝑒𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑘𝑛𝑒𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑙𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑠 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑔𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜𝑔𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑠, 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑒𝑥 𝑙𝑢𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑜𝑜𝑚 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑤𝑒𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑣𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑤𝑜 𝑤𝑜𝑚𝑒𝑛. "𝑊ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑊𝑒𝑠?" 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑠𝑘𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑎 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑖𝑒𝑑, "𝑓𝑢𝑐𝑘 𝑊𝑒𝑠" 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙 𝑠𝑎𝑖𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑘𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑒𝑑 𝐸𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛.

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pretty-boys-book-club · 1 year

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Mind Over Matter (Chapter 5) | Bylines to my heart

Summary: You are a young journalist navigating the turbulent job of reporting for a local newspaper in D.C. What happens when you constantly bump into a cute boy genius? Can FBI agents befriend journalists? Can they fall in love with one?

Word Count:

Previous Chapters: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

“Once you had put the pieces back together, even though you may look intact, you were never quite the same as you'd been before the fall." ― Jodi Picoult

Over the course of the next few days, Spencer finds himself all over the country. One week he's in Georgia, then there's a case in New Mexico, only for them to be called to consult over a case in Michigan the very next moment. When he first started at the FBI, he used to hear multiple people mention the dangers of travel burnout. As someone who had barely left the West Coast, that idea seemed ridiculous to him. Working remotely from different stations, visiting several cities in one week, and staring longingly out an airplane window seemed like a glamorous lifestyle. If burnout was the price to pay, he could deal with it.

But now?

After a decade in the BAU, he completely understand why all senior agents complain about their job not being a 9-to-5. He's constantly rushing, because the team is always inevitably called to consult in a case at the very last notice, so he never ends up unpacking, never turns off his brain, never rests, never stops. And when he's off work, it’s hard not to bring his work home with him. He doesn't really feel like he even has a personal life anymore. He's missed so many birthdays, anniversaries and holidays.

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Truth be told, Spencer simply doesn't know how to relate with most people. It's not that he dislikes them, but more so they are just too different from him. They don't have the same morals as he does, nor do they understand the way he thinks. On top of that, it's not like he had that many opportunities to learn how to navigate relationships growing up. His mother's illness made him pretty much a recluse, and only when he got older did he realize that a lot of people thought he was odd.

Being a child prodigy meant that, during all of his childhood, he was pushed beyond his limits time and time again, challenged to an unhealthy level of learning that forced him to give up the typical things people do during childhood and their teenage years. Even now, with all the knowledge he possesses, he still lacks the ability to navigate social cues.

He is aware of that, of course, but his awareness does not make things any easier. In his haphazard pursuit for his career, he has always pulled away before getting too close to anyone.

Then, he met Maeve and he felt understood for the first time. He felt seen. And, to be honest, he enjoyed the attention. But she died in his arms before he could even get to know her deeply. And when she passed away, Spencer lost the very little trust he had in relationships.

When your heart has been through so much loss it doesn’t just go back to loving. It goes into a very different place. It goes to fear, anxiety and trauma. The first moment he feels a small glimmer of love, he immediately feels so much fear that it's almost like a panic attack.

He knows he will never fully recover from Maeve's death, but he wants to move on. The problem is that he's terrified of being hurt. After everything he has witnessed over the years—the pain of others, the damage they can cause, the horror that comes out of them— he knows that there’s a certain level of risk involved in loving someone else.

And yet, Spencer needs someone by his side. Someone who understands him and won't leave him. Someone he can lean on. He knows it'll take time, patience and understanding. But he wants to try that with you.

His biggest challenge right now is that he fears the worst and hopes for the best. So far, he hasn't had the best luck with romantic relationships, but maybe, this time, luck will be on his side.

He just has to find the courage to send you a text. His fingers tremble as he looks up your phone number. He can feel his palms sweating, so he takes a deep breath, then another, trying to calm his racing thoughts and pounding heart. He types out the message, pressing send before he can overthink it.

The second he does, fear and relief wash over him. He realizes that he has been holding his breath while typing the words. Even though he's terrified, he smiles and lets himself breathe.

06:37 PM Spencer 📚☕️: Hi. I was just thinking about your offer for a second date, but I'm a bit swamped at work at the moment. How are you? Miss me?

It takes Spencer several seconds to realize what he's done.

This was supposed to be a joke. A sarcastic, lighthearted line that would hopefully put both of you at ease. Instead, it sounds as if he's clingy and desperate. He stares at the screen, wondering how many times he can hit delete before it stops working.

But somehow, he doesn't want to erase it. He wants to see your reply. He doesn't know why, but he really does.

—

You're almost asleep when your phone lights up with a notification. You look at the number and see that it's from a couple of emails waiting for you from your boss and a text from Spencer. You've been so buried in work lately that you're even struggling to stay awake, you don't have the right mind space to reply at the moment. You make a mental note to answer him later when you're less stressed out before finally giving up and getting some sleep.

Once again, you wake up to an alarm going off. You turn to your side and turn it off, deciding that a few more minutes of sleep can't hurt. You get back under the covers and close your eyes again. It's only moments later that you realize you're gonna be late if you wait any longer. You roll over and grab your phone to check the time, seeing that you've got another email from your boss. You groan at the thought of going into work today.

"You'll do fine," you mutter as you get out of bed. You quickly get dressed and try to calculate how much it'll take you to get to work on time. Finally, you decide that you'll just have to cut out some corners this morning. You head to the metro station before you even get a chance to eat something. Once you get there, the wagon is so full that you end up standing all the way down to your stop. By the time you get outside of the station, you're already running behind schedule.

Finally, you get to your desk just in time to see an email come through from your boss. "Just a reminder: we need the next review done by noon," he says. You sigh. You've been so buried in work, which you probably should've been doing anyway considering how much of it you suddenly have. Seems like everyone in the newsroom has started to get stressed about imminent deadlines.

You've been struggling with writing a review about the Midsummer Night's Dream production at the National Theater. You had such a good time with Spencer. It was an interesting experience to see Shakespeare performed live, especially because the stagecraft was great. But, of course, it's something that has been performed a million times before. So it's hard to write about what you've experienced without trying to sound like a complete douche.

It's not that you think it's bad or anything. It's just that there are lots of people who've seen this play a thousand times. The job writing reviews is a bit more tedious than you expected. You have to go over the details of plays, movies or books you've seen and read over and over again. Sometimes, you wonder why they hire someone to do these sorts of things.

The rest of the day goes by slowly until lunch break comes around. You're nowhere near finished with the review. It's the second time this week you've let a deadline pass by unnoticed. John calls you into his office. You're getting used to dealing with him. At first, you thought he was too harsh with your articles, but his constant scolding actually motivates you to be better at what you do.

"I know I haven't exactly been easy on you," he starts. "But there's a reason why I'm doing it." He pauses for a moment as if thinking about what to say next. "You remind me a lot of my younger self. You should keep that in mind. I did some stupid stuff when I was your age and ended up ruining my career because of it. Don't let that happen to you."

You're a little surprised by that, but you also feel kind of touched by it. Maybe you aren't so bad after all. The silence stretches for a minute or so. You sit down in front of his desk and take a deep breath before asking: "But...?"

He leans back in his chair and folds his hands in front of him. "Your articles have been very good," he begins. "But I want them to be even better. And I'm not saying that to stroke your ego. You've missed two deadlines. That's twice now. If you can't meet those deadlines, then I can't afford to keep you anymore."

"I'm sorry," you apologize. "I really am. I didn't think I'd miss the deadlines."

"No one does. It's just something you have to learn to deal with," he says. "Now, I'm not telling you this to scare you. I'm telling you this because I care about you. I don't want to see you fail, okay?"

"Thank you, sir."

He smiles. "From now on, I want you to double check every single detail. No more missed deadlines. And, just in case, I'm assigning one of the editors to work closely with you. His name is Thomas and he's going to help you with everything from now on." He calls for Thomas to come into the room.

He looks a bit older than you. You're guessing he's in his early thirties, maybe a little older. Your boss, John, continues. "Thomas is one of our best. You two are going to go through each of your drafts until you get the hangs of it. Do you think you can handle that?"

You nod. "Yes, sir."

"Good. Don't take this the wrong way. You're young, you're bound to make mistakes sometimes, but try harder from now on, okay?" John stands up, walks around the desk and puts his hand on your shoulder. "You're a good reporter, kiddo. I really liked your coverage of the Tenleytown case."

You smile. "Thanks, sir."

"Don't thank me yet. We'll see how you do tomorrow. Now, if you two don't mind, I have a phone call I need to attend to. Don't fuck up, okay?"

And with that, he goes back to the desk and signals for you two to leave his office. Thomas accompanies you outside. He's carrying a stack of files.

"So, I take it you're new to the Capital." He mentions, hoping to start a conversation.

"Yes, I used to live in New York before. Moved there during college. After that, I got a job there and decided to stay. You know how it goes."

"Sounds fancy. NYU?"

"No, Columbia."

"Oh, well. I went to..."

You interrupt him. "Let me guess...Princeton?"

"What gave it away?"

"The fact that you didn't answer my question."

"Touché." He laughs. "Still, I can't believe you came all the way here just to join the WTOP team. Have you seen the traffic?" You two keep talking until you reach your desk. He tells you he holds a Masters in English, something that makes you think he’d get along well with Spencer if they were to meet. You also learn that he likes to go out drinking on the weekends, but only if he can find a nice place that doesn't have too many hipsters.

There's a bizarre magic to finding the right editor who understands the stories you're passionate about, deals with all the internal newsroom drama necessary to get your story what it needs, and makes your work better. He is responsible for checking facts, spelling, grammar, and punctuation. He’s the one that ensures that all your articles correspond with in-house style guides and feel polished and refined when done.

—

Your work day stretches until late once again. You're tired and worn out after having stayed late at work the last few days, but you have a deadline to meet and you know it's better to finishing things off before you have a chance to relax. Thomas approaches you with a cup of coffee in hand.

"How're you doing?" He asks.

"Busy as usual." You sip on your coffee.

"Don't tell me about it. No one tells you about the long hours we put in here. I mean, I knew there was a lot of work involved, but I hadn't realized just how much."

You nod in agreement, your computer shows it's almost 9 PM. "Shit, are you by any chance going home?"

"Sure," Thomas says. "I don't need to get back until the morning anyway. Where do you live?"

"A couple of blocks from Woodley Park. I guess it's technically Adams Morgan but everyone calls it 'the other' one."

"Oh, I live close to Kalorama Park. That's where I'm headed now. Think we could catch the train together?"

"That would be great." You smile. You soon find out Thomas loves to talk. He's a guy who knows his way around town, so you're always learning new things about DC while he tells you about the places you haven't yet seen. As you two walk to your apartment, which is the same general direction as Thomas', he's telling you about some article he was reading on the Atlantic and you tune out for a while.

"Earth to Y/N!" He says.

"Sorry," you mumble, looking at him with a guilty expression.

"I saw you staring off into space just now. I was just asking you what you're doing this weekend. You know, since we're not going to work."

"I don't have plans."

"Well, why don't you come to my house? Kyle would love to have someone over. He makes the best lasagna ever, plus I'd love to have an extra set of hands in the kitchen. We'll make some cocktails and watch some TV." He offers.

You suddenly remember Spencer's text. "Shit."

Thomas looks confused at your reaction. "What's wrong?"

"There's this guy I'm seeing...I mean, I think I am. We went to the theater a couple days ago, I just remembered I haven't answered his texts. I really should call him."

"Whoa, slow down. Slow down, Y/N. Tell me everything."

You tell him about your date with Spencer, including how you felt afterwards. "Wow." He seems in shock. "He's really an agent? Not just some big city police officer?"

"Yes, he's a special agent. Works for the Behavioral Analysis Unit."

His eyes widen slightly. Then he gives you this warm smile. "Wow, that really is something else. Must be some sort of genius."

"Yeah, he is."

"Out of curiosity, can I see what he sent you?"

"Sure." You pull up the message. "This is it."

"It sounds like he meant every word." You look up at Thomas. His eyes are filled with warmth and affection. "He sounds sweet. So... Do you?"

"Do I what?"

"Miss him."

"Um..." You hesitate. "We've only been on one date. Maybe he doesn't want anything serious right now.”

"You're not answering my question", he teases.

You feel your face flush red. You bite your lip as you try to figure out how to answer. "I... I actually do." You admit. "I miss him."

"So I take it you'll go out with him again? To get a good idea of whether or not he wants more than just a casual relationship?"

"I hope so."

"Then, please, let him know. Make sure he knows you're interested." Thomas nods. You debate whether you should follow his advice and text Spencer. Or maybe you shouldn't even bother trying at all. He's probably busy.

—

Spencer spends his whole day wondering when you'll reply. He begins to lose hope. He's usually really good at avoiding looking at his phone during work, but he lacks the willpower to do so, for the first time in a long while. He's been more withdrawn than usual. He falls asleep in the jet questioning why he's so anxious about your reply, his mind going down a dark and twisting path, one he’s not so sure if he’ll find a way out.

When the team arrives at Quantico, Spencer is the last one to board off the plane. He takes a deep breath as he takes the elevator and checks his phone. When he looks down at the his phone, he realizes you've sent him a message:

08:42 PM Y/N: Hey Spence! Sorry I haven't reached out yet. I've been so busy with work lately. Funny thing you've asked, I do miss you. I'd love to see you soon. Let me know if you're free tonight. Hope all is well with you. XX

His heart leaps into his throat. Spencer smiles from ear to ear. His eyes keep darting back to your words on the screen. He feels his heart racing as he reads them over again and again. He rests his body against the wall, folding his arms across his chest. He's so distracted by his own thoughts he doesn't even realize Derek has made an appearance behind him until Derek speaks. "What are you doing?"

Derek asks, sounding curious rather than annoyed or worried. Spencer shakes his head slightly, trying to clear it. The words just won't come. "When you’re gonna tell me about whatever it is that you’re hiding?”

Spencer snaps out of his daze, pressing his lips into a tight line as he says, "I'm not hiding anything.” It’s a fib, but one Spencer utters almost without thinking, adopting a nonchalance he’s perfected over years of lying to his coworkers about his whereabouts, his weekend plans, and most importantly, his love life.

"That's the biggest load of crap I've ever heard," Derek replies, shaking his head. "You've been checking your phone at least every fifteen minutes for the whole day and that's coming from the guy who is a self-proclaimed technophobe. Come on, that might work with Garcia or JJ, but you know I'm pretty perceptive. Tell me what's going on inside that big brain of yours.”

Spencer sighs heavily, "You don't understand."

"No, I guess I don't," Derek says, placing his hands on his hips. "If you're not hiding something then why are you acting like a nervous little puppy?"

"I'm just thinking about a text I got. That's all."

"Is it from a special friend by any chance? Is that why you're acting so weird?"

Spencer feels his cheeks flush. He takes a moment to collect his thoughts. "It's from a friend of mine."

"Okay, so why can't you tell me who she is?"

“I just like my privacy, okay? Can’t a guy have that?”

“Of course you are allowed to keep things to yourself, but you're the worst at keeping secrets. Besides, a little bird told me you went on a date with… What’s her name again?”

“Y/N is her name, we…" Spencer can't control the smile that takes over his face. When he realizes this, he quickly pulls himself together, feigning an expression of surprise, his voice getting higher: "Wait, what? Who told you that?”

Spencer knows all his colleagues make their own assumptions at his reluctance to share about his (very nonexistent) romantic life. He also knows that they speculate about his well-being after what happened to Maeve. Still, can’t he have something for himself, once in his life? Something that he doesn’t have to share with anyone.

“I ain’t no snitch, Reid. But I’m happy for you, my man. You deserve some happiness after all you've been through. So how about you be a good boy and tell me everything about her, huh?”

“We've been on just one date. And it wasn't even an official one.”

"And do you plan on asking her out for another one? You know, officially?"

"I don't know. We haven’t talked about that yet."

“So what are you waiting for, pretty boy? Ask her out already!"

"It's not that simple. She's super busy and I need to figure out how to make time for us. I'd love to take her out to dinner again, but—"

“Oh, please! Sounds like an excuse. I know it's hard but don't overthink it. Just ask her out. That's all you have to do, the worst she can say is no."

"What if she says yes?"

"Then it'll be perfect."

Spencer shakes his head, unable to believe that Derek would be so naïve about these things. It's not that easy to just ask someone out. "I don't want history to repeat itself, that's all." Spencer admits. "After Maeve, I'm terrified of being hurt again. I'm afraid of getting involved with someone. I'm afraid they'll be hurt again."

"I know it's hard, but you're not the same anymore. Don't let that fear stop you from living your life, Reid. Life is short. Hell, it's shorter than we think."

"Thanks, Derek. I needed to hear that today."

"Anytime. Now, do you mind using that big brain of yours to fill out some paperwork? We have a lot of folders to get through."

Spencer nods. “Sure.”

—

It takes him around an hour to finish things up and get home. He takes a quick shower before climbing into bed. He starts to work on a reply to your text as soon as his head hits the pillow.

10:49 PM Spencer 📚☕️: Sorry, I didn't mean to ignore you! I just couldn't seem to find the right words. I hope you don't hate me for that. If you want, we could have dinner this Thursday?

Spencer sends the message. He looks at his phone and waits for a reply. Minutes pass, he checks the screen to see if you've sent anything else. Nothing. Spencer sighs in disappointment and sets the phone aside. He closes his eyes, trying to fall asleep. But sleep doesn't come easily to him. He feels defeated. Maybe you were never really interested. Or maybe you found someone new? He's so confused.

He rolls onto his side, his head resting on the pillow. He tries to sleep. His mind wanders to the day he met you. How crazy to think it was pure coincidence. He's reliving all your conversations in his head when his phone lights up. It's a text from you.

10:52 PM Y/N: That sounds good. I'll see you then :) Let me know the time and place.

Spencer opens his eyes as he reads the last part of your text. 'See you then.' He finds himself smiling as he falls asleep.

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