COVERT : Spencer Reid (II)

10

Multitasking is a requirement of any researcher, and one of many skills I lack. I'm trying to work through lunch. In the past half hour, I've received sixty-two emails alone. I don't have time to eat my wrap in the staff office. Certainly, I don't have time to fiddle with the necklace Spencer bought for me, or callback Estelle to confirm the time the movers will come – which I still haven't booked – so that she can finalize the key return with our landlord. Most of all, I can't worry about buying a gift for Taylor, whose name I drew for Secret Santa.

My throat is dry. I reached for my mug. It's empty. With it in my hand, I try to slink into the break room. I just need ice from the freezer and water from the cooler.

I just need something fucking cold.

Unfortunately, Morgan has other plans.

"Just show me a picture. No name."

"I'm not going to- you're violating the sanctity of Secret Santa," Reid stammers through the sentence, one finger tapping on the table. "I won't... no. You're not getting her name."

"So there is someone," Morgan smirks.

Prentiss catches my eye, "you know about this?"

The others look over at me. It's impossible for me to hide the tightness in my shoulders. I look to Garcia for help. Like me, she's swamped right now. Neither of us have the time for petty squabbles. Certainly, it's easier than looking at Spencer. Just from the sound of his voice, the harsh edge to his sentences, the finality to him, I know it's not a petty squabble. This is too important, and I can't have the profilers watching me during this conversation.

Garcia's nose crinkles just for a second, but she says nothing. I relax my shoulders.

"I'm a bit busy for this," I tell them, turning back to the freezer to grab some ice. Maybe if I grab some I can bring it back to my desk and wait for it to melt.

Morgan chuckles behind me, "Reid got a number from a pretty bartender-"

"You are abusing Secret Santa-"

"-and he won't call her back," Morgan plows over Spencer. "I think he's got feelings for someone else."

"Or, he's just not interested," Rossi offers.

"If you'd have met her, you'd be interested."

I tried my best to ignore Morgan. All I can think to do is shrug my shoulders. I cracked the ice into my cup. As smoothly as I can, I shove my cup underneath the spout of the water cooler. Water trickles out too slowly I take a sip, the water feels like soap on my tongue. It's a naturally warm even with ice. It's snowing outside and my wool knit sweater isn't helping.

"No, look at his face," Morgan gestures to Reid. "He's panicking."

"The lady doth protest too much," Prentiss nods along.

Morgan peers at Reid, "why won't you tell us about her? We're not going to give you the third degree, Reid."

"It's Estelle, isn't it?"

The lie slips out of my mouth too quickly. I blame it on the soapy feeling in my mouth. It's the easiest escape that I can think to extend to him. Morgan's met Estelle and so has Garcia. Only now do I let myself look at Reid's face. I catch on his eyes for just a second. His lips are slightly agape.

"Who's Estelle?" Prentiss asks.

"Her roommate," Garcia looks from me to Reid. I try my best to scowl.

"She's a PhD candidate at Georgetown who goes to his guest lectures," I try to brush through the words as quickly as possible. So that I can hold each of my final words longer. "And she's off limits. Okay, Reid?"