Start From the Beginning

Chapter 8:

Chapter 8:

Saylor

Then:

We walked out of the coffee shop when I casually unclasped my hand from his arm. It felt like being naked when the connection was dropped. I was vulnerable and able to be detected. I tried to hide to my expression as I took a deep breath trying to bring my body back to a homeostatic position.

We walked towards a black GMC SUV. He stood by the passenger side, putting his hands in his pockets and rocked onto the back of his heels.

"How are you now?" He asked smiling a childish grin. It was adorable how many different looks on him made me feel. How many different ways he could look and act yet capture all of my attention and attraction every time.

"I am more than alright." I smirk back, trying to fight it off.

"It is about a 15-to-20-minute drive to the office. When we get there, we have protocol to follow. We pull up to the gate, I show my badge, you will have your ID. They will call to the main desk where we ensure that you are supposed to be here. They walk around the car and then we go in. Then we do a physical search inside the office doors. Metal detector, quick screen, check your ID, if you have a bag, they will be checking that too. Also, if you have a gun, it will need to be identified when we arrive. Last thing don't lose your ID or your badge, if you do and they don't know who you are.... Well.... You could be detained. I mean... I won't let that happen, but in a case that it does, call for Agent Aaron Hotchner. He can fix anything." He smiles, rattling off all the details. When he is done, he explores my eyes in looks for something, but I can't tell what it is he is exactly looking for.

"Let's roll." I speak. He turns and opens the car door for me, waits until I get myself inside and he closes the door. What a gentleman – chivalry does still exist.

He... is he running? He is definitely running to the driver's side. His awkward little run had me close to giggles. The shock of seeing him run was what made my hesitate on the laughter – I'm glad I concealed it because I wouldn't ever want him to be embarrassed for who he is. He just was himself and I couldn't believe all the facets that made him... him. As he got to the door, he stopped, looking in at me and then immediately to the ground. A small smile played across his lips and I couldn't help but just see him. I could feel myself questioning if I was supposed to notice what he did, but I did see it.

Containing the heat rising into my cheeks was hard – the excitement he must have been feeling over all these small details actually might have gotten to him. Imagining how he felt, made my heart race. IT was suddenly feeling like I belonged somewhere, even if this feeling I had for him wasn't reciprocated, he would no doubt become someone who I relied on in life. It felt right... all of it.

As he was getting in the car, the realization hit me that maybe, he was my type. The type I didn't allow myself to look at. Maybe just maybe he was going to be my escape from the life I appreciated but didn't appreciate me in return. I allowed myself the moment though that this time, being here and working a case that involved my life, would be my escape from the prison tight walls of my mind. I shook my head a little as if to realign my thoughts, but I almost couldn't contain myself.

When the car started, classical music was playing. His large and lanky hands quickly started pressing buttons on the radio until static noises came out. He held his hands up as if to say "don't touch anything else, hold on" to himself. It was as if he was telling his brain to slow down – that it was moving way faster than his hands could.

I smirked because I knew the song that was on the radio... When he eventually let his hands down, he clicked a few more buttons and a new song came on.

'Beast of Burden' by The Rolling Stones turned on and I turned to him. Biting my bottom lip fully, smiling heavily.

"Firstly, you put on Piano Sonata Number 14 – Moonlight Sonata by Beethoven and then you turn on The Rolling Stones... who are you?" I giggle, looking into his eyes, now biting my cheek to stop the flutters happening as he takes me in.

"You like classical music?" He questioned back. The look of shocked confusion absolutely clear. No judgement, but definitely a look of shock.

"When I was in college, I would blare it to help me focus on the work I was doing. I felt and feel music so intensely that every song I listen to is accompanied by a memory, another sound, a feeling, a moment. Some songs for me have multiple memories." I overshare something about myself that nobody knows. Every moment of my life is defined by music. I have it constantly playing in my head, on looped feeds. Music, all types, pulls heavy emotion ties every time. I bring my right arm across my chest, my left arm moving to a closed fist and putting it under my chin as if I was holding my head up with my hand. I could feel the emotion hit me now – the feeling of change.

"Do you want me to turn it back on?" His eyes search mine for the truth. He was looking for a truthful answer – one that he wasn't sure he knew the answer for. He was figuring me out as I was figuring myself out. Our dynamic was interesting in this moment.

"Wait... you listen to The Rolling Stones?" I asked back, ignoring his question. I flipped it back to him and this slow and integrated smile worked across his face, the dimples make an appearance again and I realize that they only come out when he genuinely smiles. When the smile comes from a place of happiness and memory rooted in love.

"My mom... she used to make me listen and remember Bob Dylan songs when I was a kid. She listened to so much though, that some songs, like you said, just stick with me. People with the aptitude to address music and categorize it in their minds to memories, to thoughts, to people, are typically more emotionally connected to the world. Which is funny... I don't call myself emotionally heightened at all..." He paused contemplating why he just revealed that about himself, I nodded along – trying to allow him the space to be open. I was a safe space for any Spencer Reid thought.

"Research shows that music activates various networks in the brain, including the auditory cortex and parts of the brain that activate and store memory, emotion, and motor coordination." He spouts off facts. I mentally note that statistics makes him feel more comfortable. That they were a way of fending off emotion – keeping him safe.

"That is sweet that you can connect music to your mom and your childhood. She must make you incredibly happy." I say back, trying to reroute his brain to something more positive.

"Yes. She is a wonderful woman." He smiles as he puts the car in drive. I pressed the button on the radio to start the song over again and we both smirks as The Rolling Stones restarted a classic tune that we both enjoyed. Engrained into my memory was this song and this encounter.