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Shawn Spencer is standing very, very close to me in Chief Vick’s office. He smells like pineapples and exasperation. He’s raving on as usual about some “psychic channel,” but I can’t quite get past the fact that he’s standing so close. I feel heat rising up my neck and into my cheeks. Son of a– He drives me up the wall. Why the hell am I blushing over someone so annoying? I inch backwards, away from him, but he catches my arm. My eyes widen a bit and I turn my face away.
“Spencer, I swear to Lady Justice if you don’t get off of me,” I spit. I’m trying my best to ignore the voice in my head that’s trying to get me to ogle him. He’s just so much Shawn. I’ve been paying him more attention lately, and I have something that will embarrass him just as much – if not more – as he’s embarrassing me now. I push him away, and he moves to harass Juliet. I pretend like I’m half paying attention to his ranting, but I’m focused on one thing only.
Come on, just a little bit…just raise your arms a little…there! His sweatshirt sleeves slide down a bit and I catch enough of a glimpse of the dark patch on his forearm. Exactly what I was looking for. He has a tattoo. Something colourful. I’ll exploit that later. Just have to decide how.
“And that’s why you should let me join the case about the ice pick guy,” Shawn concludes. I roll my eyes.
“Really now, Shawn,” Vick says. I smirk at him. “Okay, but on a trial basis. Best behaviour after last month’s extravaganza.” My jaw drops slightly in false astonishment as Shawn and Guster exchange a high-five.
“Seriously?” I exclaim. “About eighty percent of that was nonsense!”
Juliet smirks and gives a sidelong glance at me. “Bested you again, Carlton.”
“Aw, Lassieface,” Shawn begins, placing his hand on Guster’s shoulder, “don’t worry. It’ll be closed in a jiffy. Is that right? ‘Jiffy?’ Did I use that one right?” I roll my eyes again and cross my arms, backpedalling halfway to the door. I tug it open and glare at the duo as Juliet marches out. I follow her and then flee to my desk, plotting my method of abusing my knowledge.
It’s five minutes to seven, and Shawn is almost back to his office from his dinner run. It’s now or never. I make my way to the back door from the laundromat behind the building and sneak inside. I post myself on the couch and listen silently for his motorbike to approach. I duck when I hear it and wait until I hear the doorknob rattle to sit back up. I cross my ankle over the opposite leg and drape my arm over the back of the sofa.
Shawn is oblivious as he walks inside, fast food drink in hand, but he only gets about halfway to his desk before he stops and turns around.
“Lassie?!” he exclaims. “You scared the hell out of me!”
“Oh, really?” I ask, my voice saturated with sarcasm. I smirk. “I’m terribly sorry.” I stand up and cross over to him, standing a little too close. I lower my head a bit and look him in the eyes.
“What are you doing…?” I gingerly take his arm, pushing the sleeve up without taking my eyes from his face. The tattoo slowly emerges from his sweater.
The tattoo is of a bird, a beautiful peacock of some sort, and appears to be water coloured somehow. It has small ovals and circles across its tail, some of them distorted by the way the tail folds. Three of the distorted ovals catch my eye. They are sort of aligned in a diagonal pattern, but sort of discreetly, staggered a bit. They look as though they could be letters.
“I was really drunk, I’m sorry,” he stutters at last. “I should have just told you, I’m really…” He stops when my eyes meet his. I’m not glaring like I usually am, and I’m not smirking. I look at him softly, my eyes sort of wide. Curious, I would have been angry if it were earlier today.
“C.J.L.,” I mumble, looking back at his arm. He touches my hand delicately. They’re my initials.
“I’m sorry, Carlton…” Shawn says sadly. He thinks I’m angry with him. I half wish I was. “I was drunk, I shouldn’t have done it.” I let my head dip, brushing my lips across the pigmented skin. He almost jumps. I lock eyes with him.
“Stop that,” I say firmly. “Don’t regret it.” My life’s goal has been completed: I have left Shawn Spencer entirely speechless. I lean down a bit and press my mouth against his, closing my eyes. When I pull back, his mouth drops open a bit, his face as red as his Wendy’s cup.
“I um,” he begins, trying to regain his composure. “I think that might have been the best thing that happened to me all week. And I got a pineapple smoothie yesterday.” I crack a smile, relieved he’s not opposed to my actions. He presses himself against me and looks up at me. “Maybe we should sneak into each other’s offices and scare each other more often.”
“Don’t you dare, Shawn,” I reply. He grins and takes my hand, pulling me towards the door. I follow along, almost laughing. “Where are we going?”
“I don’t know yet,” he says cheerily. “We’ll figure that out when we get there."