Chapter Text
Despite my objections I went with my friend, Simone, to a local art museum that was just opening up. I walked into the museum and was met by a few picture snaps, posed and continued on until I saw Parker and kissed him on the cheek.
“Hey, what’s up?” I asked him as he pointed off to his side where a man was standing next to another.
Parker’s friend walked up to us and rocked back and forth on his feet. He looked nervous but I didn’t say anything as I took in his appearance. He had deep dark eyes, just like mine and brown hair that fell down and over his eyes. He had a boyish look to him, but it was a look he wore well and one I liked. Dimples framed the outside of his face and skin under his eyes were dark and heavy, symbolizing many nights without sleep.
“Spencer,” Parker said to his friend, who, I have to say, was very attractive, “have you ever met a real life movie star?”
“’Movie star’?” I questioned Parker with a cross of my arms. “Please, I’m anything but! I’m a model, Parker, don’t make me out to be some kind of famous celebrity.”
“Honey, you are famous,” he stated and tapped the shoulder of his friend. “Spencer, this is Eden.”
“It’s very nice to meet you,” I greeted him politely with a small smile and a firm hand shake.
“H-hi,” he stuttered from being suddenly put on the spot. “Hi. I’m, uh, Doctor Spencer, umm… Reid,” he added like it was an afterthought. He stuttered some more and I smiled wider as he continued, “No, sorry, scratch that. I’m Spencer, you don’t have to call me Doctor Reid. That’s for my superiors and business.” He added quickly, “Not that you can’t, you can if you want, I won’t care what you call me, you can call me whatever you want.” He crinkled his nose embarrassed and looked away.
“I will,” I smiled wider. “Call you Spencer, that is.”
“Who is that?” Simone asked tapping my shoulder but I just shook my head and shrugged.
“Did you come with him?” I asked Dr. Reid.
“How did you know that?” he asked.
“Well, he is looking at you, and you both have these dark circles under your eyes which make me think you’ve been doing something to keep you from sleeping,” I tried to come up with a reasonable excuse but one that didn’t sound too dumb.
“Good, uh, good guess,” he said and watched his friend look at paintings. “He’s Gideon, my boss.”
Flashes from a camera blind my vision for a short second and with a short sigh I hold a finger to Dr. Reid and turned toward the camera quickly to do a couple shots. I smile and place a hand on my strapless leather mini-dress. I was unprepared to go out in public but I just threw on some black leggings and red boots. I grabbed my red leather jacket to tie the whole outfit together and scampered out the door as best as I could.
Parker got a little angry from the camera men taking my picture, but I told him that he shouldn’t worry about it. I was used to it by know.
“Paparazzi are everywhere, Parker,” I whispered quietly, “no need to get upset about it.”
“Still,” he turned away and urged the couple guys out of the gallery. “I told you, you can’t take photos in here! Get! Out!”
I laughed and turned back to Spencer to realize that Simone disappeared to probably talk to Spencer’s boss.
“So,” I struck up a conversation after a couple seconds of silence, “you’re not from around here, are you?”
“N-no, I’m, uh, well, we’re, uh, running a training service about profiling about the Los Angeles Police department,” Spencer’s Adam’s Apple bobbed when he talked and for a second I couldn’t help picture feeling his hmm with my lips pressed against his throat.
“Profiling, really?” I blinked and focused on his words instead of where they are coming from.
At first glance, Dr. Reid had this… dark, youthful, and almost repulsive look to him, but the longer I stared, I got entranced in what he looked like. He was captivating and I was surprised to find that the women weren’t on both of his arms.
“Yeah, I’m with the BAU,” he acted like that solved my questions but it made me have one more.
“The B.A.U?” I questioned, wondering where I’ve heard that title before.
“Behavioral Analyzing Unit of the FBI,” he clarified and I nodded, understanding. Sort of… “Federal Burial of Investigation,” he tacked on at the end after a moment.
“I knew that one,” I unhooked my arms and took a champagne glass off the small platter a waiter was carrying around. I smiled while I took a small sip.
“Right, of course, most people do,” he commented to himself more than me. “Sorry,” he huffed a laugh and I joined him.
“So, what do you do in the BAU?” I asked seeing the excitement in his job that I didn’t have.
“We physco-analyze crime scenes to, uh, gain a better understanding of the, uh, criminal who committed the crime,” he licked his lips and took a deep breath.
“Physco-analyze, huh?” I wondered as his eyes darted around and he bit his lip nervously. I took a wild guess, “Are you doing that to me right now?”
“What?” he asked blunted. I chuckled under my breath when he seemed to panic. “No, I’m not physco-analyzing you right now-“
“Spencer?” I stopped him from further worry. He stopped talking and looked down at me seriously, waiting to see what I was about to say next. “I was kidding,” I smiled as he nodded and forced his lips into a thin line.
We chat for a few more moments about his job at the B.A.U and when he realizes that his colleague stepped out, he becomes worried. “Where’s Gideon?” he asked looking around.
“With Simone,” I rolled my eyes and sighed.
“What’s wrong?” he grew curious and attentive to his surroundings in a moment’s notice.
“Well, if she wasn’t a Lesbian, she would probably jump every guy’s bones, and she makes an exception every once and a while,” I probably wasn’t making much sense, but the amount of beauty Simone puts off into the world puts me to shame. I wondered why I was a model sometimes, I wasn’t ugly but I wasn’t beautiful. I was… Pretty. A simple shrug is indicated after that and a stressful sigh of annoyance, if you didn’t get the message. I had an elegant look to myself that most producers found attractive. Brown hair so dark it looked black, and white pale skin. I had hazel eyes and I wasn’t exactly textbook definition of thin. I had curves but I was sure that was okay, thicker models got paid more, and I was fine with that! Of course, I had flaws, well aware of all of them and still chose to go to the gym only once or twice a month. I wasn’t unfit, I taught self-defense classes every weekend so I did get a good work out but I liked food, what girl doesn’t? What a crime, right?
“If she turned on her ‘I’m irristible’ charm, then your friend is hopeless,” I took a swig of my drink and gulped it down.
“You… You alright? You might want to slow down there, Eden,” Spencer’s voice was laced with concern and I smiled.
“Thank you for the suggestion, but I’ll need something a lot stronger than champagne to get me intoxicated,” I declared with a bright red lipstick smile. “Which I haven’t been for a while now,” I remembered that he was an FBI agent and I wasn’t sure that he couldn’t arrest me for drinking too much. “It’s not like I drink and drive, I’m always the designated driver,” I stated firmly.
“I’m not here to point the finger at you,” he pressed his lips into a thin line again which I took to be a smile.
I set my champagne glass down. “Look at that,” I pointed my finger behind him and walked over to the painting to change the subject. “Wow… That’s incredible. I don’t know how someone does that with their hands.”
He started with a gulp, “It’s quite simple, you see the person-“
I didn’t really know what he was saying in that moment, but I liked to watch his mouth move and I would nod and act like I knew what he was talking about.
I agreed to something in which I had no idea and I tucked a small black hair behind my ear. “With all those thoughts running through your head, Dr. Spencer Reid, does the painting make you feel anything?”
Spencer crossed his arms like I had a while ago, “Like what?”
I huffed a laugh, “I can’t tell you how to feel, Spencer, it all comes from inside you. You have to dig down, past all that rational thought and maybe find a feeling when you look at the painting.”
The painting was blue and green of the sea in some far off land. Just looking at it gave me tingles and sensations.
He smiled, tight lipped, and gazed down at me. “Right now, I feel… pretty good.”
“By looking at me, or the painting?” I questioned with narrowed eyes not sure which one he was talking about. Despite my confidence being normally half empty instead of half full, I was a model nonetheless and had a little taste of being flirtatious.
The Good-O-Doctor became flustered from being put of the spot and started rambling when we were interrupted by a man with a shaved face and soft brown eyes. He was middle-ages (my guess was fifty to sixty) but seemed demanding in which I knew this was Gideon, his boss.
“We’re leaving,” Gideon stated forcefully.
Spencer answered with a polite response, “We’re still looking at the exhibit.”
“Now.” His voice held much authority and I took a wild guess that Spencer wanted to stay to talk but was needing to leave for something important. I wondered if I’d ever see him again. “Now, now,” he started to walk away and stopped at the door way.
“Oh, uh, yeah, so, I guess we’re leaving, so-“
“Reid!” he shouted which made me tense. I never knew a boss to be so – “Now!”
“It was nice to meet you,” he finished while moving hair out of his face and walking toward the door and out into the Las Angels crisp night.
“Same to you,” I quickly commented and watched Spencer rush out the door after almost bumping into another waiter.
***
I went home after ward, exhausted from the paparazzi photo snaps and the art gallery. I couldn’t stop thinking about that Doctor however.
Doctor Spencer Reid… Spencer Reid… Spencer… I grinned and put my truck into park. I shut Fire Ball (the name of my truck) off and pulled my house keys from my purse.
I walked up to the front of my stair steps and unlocked the door.
“Toyka!” I yelled and heard his skidding feet running toward me. “There’s my baby boy!” I pet his ears and shamed him for jumping up on me. “What do you have there, Toyka?” I laughed and leaned down to grab the paper from his mouth. I went to the kitchen to feed him and while he was eating I opened the envelope.
Inside the manila envelope was a newspaper with today’s news on it. I unfolded the paper and my eyes scanned the headlines. A girl was murdered in her home and I didn’t see why the envelope was delivered to me until my eyes dropped down to the words written in bold - what I assumed to be blood - and stamped on the paper.
“’You owe me’?” I questioned and looked around my house suddenly feeling like someone was watching me.