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FOR THE FIRST TIME in my life, I felt insecure, as if I were incapable of doing a certain thing. For example, I felt unprepared for field work. From all the stories I heard from Spencer, the job of a field profiler isn't naïve at all. It requires mental toughness that is at the extreme limit compared to physical strength. In such moments, it's of no use for you to have a high IQ if you understand your job only in theory. Your life has a question mark every time you go to a crime scene.

At that moment, I felt like I didn't belong in that world. That I was in the field, with a gun. Gun practise was the first time I was scared. Maybe I should stay in the office after all. Or were those just thoughts I had put in my head to quell that strange feeling before I went to Spencer's lecture. The local case was solved very quickly because the police already knew who the possible culprit was for a very disturbing murder. According to all news reports, one piece of information was always the same. The killer was messy, that gave him away immediately, he looked like someone who had read stories about famous serial killers and wanted to do the same as them. He was also very anxious, afraid of people. He definitely had a disorder that even the doctors didn't know he had. But he wasn't a copycat killer, he was a common amateur who was fortunately arrested on Sunday, just two days after FBI became involved in the investigation.

For many, Monday meant a new chance at a better life. In this city, Monday meant one less murderer on the streets of this state. People lived busy lives, and the city was crowded at almost any time of day or evening. And with the crowds came impatience, various curses, hatred for having to wait for a red light, a line at a coffee shop, a city bus or an Uber.

I hated waiting for the day I'd see Spencer again. It was more comfortable for me to see him, as long as I didn't have to address him as Professor

I did that once or twice. I couldn't help but ask him a question about a lesson.

It was 8:05 in the morning, and the psychology office was slowly filling up. I arrived in time to take the seat I usually sit in, lately my seat is always taken, I hate when that happens. In the lecture I see some famous people with whom I've shared other subjects, the rest will forever be unknown to me.

Spencer Reid was more than twenty minutes late to lecture for the first time, several of them leaving the office after he had been gone ten minutes. He hurried to his chair and tossed the leather bag carelessly on the table in front of him. He looked around the classroom before looking at me.

He cleared his throat twice before finally considering how to most effectively quell the frustration in all of us. I wasn't having it, the others were. Reid, too.

"As you know, part of the work at FBI is paperwork. Can you guess who among your colleagues was made to do hundreds of pages of paperwork? Yes, that's me," he spoke rather quickly, but clearly enough. He sounded funny as if this was his first lesson ever. He was confused, probably because he had just gotten up twenty minutes ago.

The dark circles on his face looked just as sharp. He still hadn't shaved, and his hair looked much shaggier than usual. "Since we don't have a full class because of my mistake, I'm going to change the order of the lessons and cover the shorter one first so as not to interrupt the lecture in the middle of the lesson. Pay attention, these things will be asked on the exam. I shouldn't tell you this, but I did much worse on the last exam than I calculated for myself. ", He turned to the blackboard and wrote down the name of the lesson. Stressor and aggressor.

Spencer talked nonstop for the next twenty-five minutes, trying as he might to talk sense, he couldn't succeed against his brain working like crazy.

He repeated the same things several times until he found an easier way to explain these very important facts. Towards the end of the lecture, he handed out some slips of paper to everyone, starting from the last row to the very front. I was the last one, but I ran out of paper.

"I'm sorry, Miss West, I must have miscalculated how many students I was expecting at the lecture. I'll print out your copy after the class," he looked me in the eye for a moment and I felt myself burning. Probably because he was between my legs less than seventy-two hours ago. It didn't take long for me to figure out that this was all intentional. He was trying to provoke me in class so he could make fun of me over coffee later.

"It's okay Professor Reid, you can give me a copy after the lecture," I look him innocently in the eye before he quickly turns and walks to his desk. He looked down at his hand to see the clock showing how long it was until the end of the lecture.

"You're free, class is over," he informs us before the creaking of chairs is heard more than fifty times. I pack my notes into my purse before rising from my seat as well. A few students approach him to clarify some terms, and Spencer is happy to explain anything of interest to them.

"I hope it's clearer now, Wikipedia has all these terms. I'm sure they're also on the websites of academies around the country. I must excuse myself now, I've to print out a copy for your colleague," he points at me, three guys and a girl thank him and leave the room smiling.

It's just him and me again, but we're not doing anything wrong. He hands me a piece of paper that is handwritten and has a coffee stain on it. "Professor, you gave me the original version, I believe these are your notes," I take the paper in my hand and decide that two can play this game.

Spencer tries to look casual as he puts all the folders back in his bag. "Love, I needed a reason to stay after class, and now you're playing with my emotions," wow, he seems to have officially woken up.

"How am I playing, can you explain it to me?", I whisper to him, biting my lower lip as I try not to laugh.

"Ally," he looked me straight in the eye, he seemed serious. His face was completely serious, there was no sign of him smiling anytime soon.

"Yes?" I asked him. "Let me take you out on a date," he says before walking over to me and pointing his hand at the door as a sign that it's time to leave because break will be over soon and someone else is coming here to teach.

Like every Monday, we spend half an hour in the café after the lecture, having our first or second coffee of the day. Our seat was all the way in the corner, the most visible in case someone famous saw us, and the most intimate because our table was the only one that fit in that corner of the building.

We talked about his earlier case and how they hadn't seen such a bad criminal in a long time. Of course, they were happy about his lack of concern; their job was done quickly in a city full of corruption.

The topic changed to my worries about my future job and that I feared my entire career decision was a bad one. Spencer disagreed, assuring me that he wasn't saying that because we had our thing, but that he saw how capable I was for this type of work. He even said that he too was afraid of guns and that his fitness and form were desperate when he started working.

He was only twenty-three when he joined the behaviour analysis unit, the youngest agent so far, and everyone underestimated him only because of his age. But he had to prove himself over time. "At the beginning of my job, my boss told me that you don't always have to have a gun to kill a person. I soon understood what he meant by that, think about it too," he put his hand on mine and stroked it several times.

I give him a smile, he deserves much more. There is no doubt that he's not aware of his appearance and his influence on the people around him. He's definitely aware of the effect he has on me, and I don't just mean sexually.

We also talked about my final project, I admitted to him that I didn't do anything over the weekend. I had the impression that I was so distracted after our very hot get-together that it was completely distracting. There was a proud smile on his face, like he couldn't wait for me to mention this and how much it affected me. I'd be lying to myself if I said it didn't affect me to that degree.

"Are you free on Wednesday night? I was thinking of going to a restaurant for dinner, I don't care where, it can be a fast food place. If that's okay with you," she sounds so nervous it's funny.

" I've time and I'd be honored to go out with you, Dr. Spencer Reid. "

, I smiled at him and took his hand this time to reassure him. I did not know he took such things so seriously that he was annoyed when he waited for my reply.

"I will charge you for all these provocations starting today, expect it"

I choked on the last sip of coffee. That really could have been the last thing I heard. I barely cleared my throat as Spencer handed me his water bottle. "Do not ever do that again. Ever," I admonish him. Our time soon came to an end. Spencer always went to the office around 10 of the clock to finish his work. There was always paperwork, if it was not the most recent case, there were unfinished documents that his supervisor was desperate to have.

We parted ways on the way to my building, and even though it was risky, Spencer did not hesitate for a second and kissed me gently. It was a real French kiss, a pure sharing of bacteria."I'll pick you up on Wednesday around seven in the evening," he whispered in my ear before driving a few blocks away, where he had parked his car because of traffic on Main Street.