north//spencer reid

chapter two

SPENCER

"Reid."

I struggle to hold in a groan as I hear Hotch calling my name from his office when I try to leave the bullpen after returning from our most recent case. Alex gives me an understanding smile, one that says sorry you can't get out of here as quickly as the rest of us, collecting her go-bag and heading into the elevator. Rossi pats my shoulder as I head up the small staircase to Hotch's office, closing the door behind me as I enter. I don't say anything as I enter, for fear of incriminating myself for whatever it is I've probably done wrong. After all, I've never been called in here to be given a pat on the back and thanked for my hard work. It's always been to be scolded for whatever reason. So I figure for now I'll just stay quiet until I've been told what the issue is.

Hotch just barely glances up from the paperwork he's doing as I stand in front of him, my bag in my hand, lingering by the closed door so I can make a quick getaway when this ends. "Is everything okay with you?"

"Yes," I say, probably a bit too quickly for him to actually believe it's true. "Everything is fine."

Hotch sets down his pen and stares up at me with the same intimidating, stoic expression he always has. "Reid, you were very distracted throughout this last case. You clearly weren't focused. It didn't impact your work very much but it nearly did. One slip up means catastrophe and we can't afford that. We can't afford our personal lives mixing with our work lives. You know that."

"It won't happen again."

It's true. It won't happen again. I'll text Amelia and two things could happen. She could either ignore me and therefore, my infatuation with her will dissipate because I'll have no fuel to my emotional fire. Sure, that situation will hurt incredibly bad but at least I'll have some level of closure and I'll be able to block her out from my mind. On the other hand, she could answer my text and I'll get to see her again, and my thirst to see her again will be quenched and I won't be so plagued with a single image of her. I won't be left to daydream of her blonde hair and her blue sweater and white nail polish. I'll be able to see her again and hear her voice and learn more about her. But that's contingent on if she actually answers my text. That is if I can actually get myself to reach out to her and not get swallowed up in self-doubt and anxiety.

"Good," Hotch picks up his pen again and gets back to work, ducking his head almost completely out of my view. And just when I think this conversation is over and I can get home at a reasonable time, he speaks again. "So who is she?"

My eyes widen slightly, but I manage to compose myself before my face gives away too much. My hands tighten around the leather strap of my messenger bag and I clear my throat. "Excuse me?"

Hotch gives me the tiniest of smiles, not even lifting his head or stopping his work. "I can tell. Who is she?"

I run my fingers through my hair and let out an exasperated sigh, and I know that no lie I could try and come up with would get past him. So I guess I'll just tell him the truth and hope that he won't ask too many questions now or in the future, if anything even transpires in the future. "Just some girl I met when I was getting coffee."

"Must be some girl if she's been on your mind for four days," Hotch remarks. "Well, you better text her now that we're back. Head home and get sleep. That's an order."

///

It takes me hours to actually grow the courage to text Amelia. I get back to my apartment after leaving work and I shower, do laundry, eat dinner, and read a few books before I even think about reaching for my phone. But even after I reach for it, I pick it up and put it down a few times before I force myself to sit down on the couch and open up my contacts to search for Amelia's name.