The Birds & The Bees | S.R.

Ch. 1 | The Hummingbird

Summary: Reader interviews for a position as Dr. Spencer Reid's Teaching Assistant, and Spencer learns something special about her.

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It was days like this that I both deeply envied and related to hummingbirds. Days where I was only barely on time, tumbling up archaic steps of ancient buildings and trusting my instincts not to let me fall. I envied them because they were effortlessly graceful. Beautiful in their simplicity and fondness for sweets.

Hummingbirds' hearts can beat as fast as 1,260 beats per minute. It sort of felt like that for me, too. Not just because I was woefully out of shape and in a pencil skirt of all things, but because I was dreadfully nervous. Even when I finally reached the top of the stairs and managed to step inside, I felt more trapped than free. Like I'd somehow stumbled from honeysuckle fields into a concrete cage.

The stale air of the building that had only recently begun gathering students again almost felt refreshing compared to the Virginia heat. I couldn't be sure if it was really as cold as it felt or if my sticky, damp skin just made the difference more noticeable. Either way, I knew I had to pull myself together before I made it down the hallway and met my fate.

I took a moment to breathe and remind myself that, no matter how badly I wanted the job, it was still just an interview. I'd survive. Probably.

I'd never even met the professor in person, which was already both strange and unfortunate. At least, as it related to the position; most professors were particularly picky about the graduate students they hired. I had a feeling that a man with three PhDs would definitely value a demonstrated work ethic before selecting a person to tag along with them for a whole year.

But I was doing that thing again — worrying about things that I had no control over. Things that might not even matter in a few moment's time. Considering my experience in academia, I was going into this already armed with the knowledge that there was 50/50 chance that I would loathe this man's entire existence before I even said hello.

I'd only spoken to him on the phone and in e-mails, but something about his awkward, overly formal demeanor was almost charming. He just seemed so... nice.. It reminded me of the days I would stand in the full-length mirror, trying to admire myself in a suit, to finally picture myself as an adult woman, only to find a child in dress up staring back at me.

God, I hoped he was like me.

God, I hoped he liked me.

My knuckles hit the wood, quietly and reserved. The voice that returned, however, was neither of those things. It was frantic and rushed, displaying a nervousness that resonated deeply with me in that moment.

"Come in!" he called.

I couldn't keep him waiting but forcing my hand to turn the handle took more effort than I'd like to admit.

"Hello, Professor Reid?" I asked, as if his nameplate wasn't directly beside me.

"Oh. Hello! You..."

His voice cut off just as swiftly as it had started, and I tried not to read too far into the fact it coincided so perfectly with his eyes meeting mine. Those left, too. He scanned me so quickly that I wondered if this was what it was like to be one of his books. When I had heard that he could read 20,000 words per minute, I thought it had been an over exaggeration.

But I felt it. I felt him memorizing all of my features in the time it took me to realize for the first time that his eyes were brown.

"You must be (y/n)," he said when time resumed its normal pace and the papers in his hands settled on the desk, "Please, take a seat."