Caught Red Handed • Aaron Hotchner

Chapter 1

I eagerly gulp down the last of my drink cringing slightly at the bitter sweet taste. A smile forms on my lips as I feel the liquid starting to do it's thing. I sneak a glance at my friend Garcia who seems to be having the time of her life on the dance floor at the moment and I scream internally.

My ass has been stuck in this chair for about an hour and my target still hasn't shown up yet and I'm not so sure he will.

"Excuse me miss, can I get you anything else," I spin around on my chair and eye the bartender leaned over the counter drying off one of the glasses.

"Anything else huh," I say and tap my chin pretending to think, "I would like to have my job back, my old apartment back and my whole fucking life back." I smile bitterly at the lady in front of me.

Her smile falters and she stops cleaning the glass in her hands, looking at me wide eyed because of my over sharing.

"Another glass of wine will be fine," I sigh and she nods her head taking the glass in front of me and walking off.

I look across the bar to find the same set of eyes which has been trained on me this whole lovely evening still looking in my direction.

I mean if you're going to stare at least make it subtle.

Our gazes meet and I flash him a mocking smile. At first he seems taken aback at my sudden notice in him, which to be fair isn't quiet surprising because he's at least a three compared to me.  Although it seems like I gave him a little too much of a ego boost since he seductively licks his lips and sends me back a smirk.

Or at least what I think was supposed to be seductive.

I force myself to look away before he thinks I'm actually interested in him but it is too late. He's already on his way with the glass of whiskey in his hand.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Does he really think he could go home with me? Like come on buddy did you not look in the mirror before you left the house?

I debate on weather or not to make a run for it towards the dance floor and try to convince Garcia that her poor friend isn't feeling well.

"Here's your drink," the bar lady says and hands me back my glass of wine.

Staying put it is.

I raise the glass to my lips just in time for the man to sit down next to me.

Hallelujah.

"You are awfully pretty to be sitting alone at a bar on a Saturday night," he cocks his head towards me.

Ahh, the talent men have to both compliment and insult you in the same sentence.

I lower the glass from my lips, a red mark evident on the rim from my lipstick and place it on the counter spinning it around between my thumb and pointer finger.

I don't bother thanking him and just nod my head awkwardly waiting for him to leave.

"Shy one are you?" He asks before lowering his voice and leaning down towards me. "I like shy girls." The smell of alcohol hits me in the face like a pile of bricks and it takes everything in me to not gag.

I mean he has to take the hint right. He's spoken three sentences and I still haven't said a word which to any normal human would mean "get the fuck out of my face" but apparently this guy takes it more like a "keep flirting with me."