Out Of Nothing At All

Part Five

Yes, how had that happened indeed.

**Flashback to approximately 18 weeks ago.**

This dude was boring. But so pretty. But boring as fuck.

You'd been willing to push that to one side just so you could check out what was underneath his jeans and shirt and maybe give him something to bite on so that he'd stop talking. But then he'd pulled out his phone and started talking about a novel his was writing.

And then insisted on showing you some of his work. If you could call it that.

His first paragraph was twenty lines long and didn't contain a single use of punctuation or grammar. And he'd written 'your' when he'd clearly meant 'you're'.

Some things you could overlook for a pretty face and a decent fuck but bad grammar wasn't one of them. He had to go. Or more like, you had to go.

He'd picked you up from outside of work and taken you to a dive bar fifteen miles out of the city. You excused yourself and made your way to the ladies room.

Finding your phone, you speed dialled Morgan. He'd bailed you out on more than one occasion.

"H-hello?" A voice that definitely did not belong to Derek.

"Reid? Is that you? Have I dialled the wrong number? " You pulled your phone from your ear reading that the display definitely said Morgan.

"No, he left his phone with me with instructions that I was to answer if you called. Something about you needing a get out clause."

"Where is he?"

"Currently dry humping a women named Jessica in a booth at the back of the bar. Although... I'm not sure it's 'dry'. She seems to be enjoying it far too much."

You laughed. "Where's Garcia?"

"She left about ten minutes ago, attached to a broker named Westley."

Fuck.... You groaned. Cab it was.

"Y/N if you need a ride, I can come get you. I've only had one drink and that was an hour ago."

"No its fine. I'll call a cab and think of something." You didn't want to end up owing him a favour.

"Where are you. Seriously? I don't mind. I'm kinda bored here anyway. And I'm not tired yet, the drive might wear me out." He offered again.

"Okay. Thank you. But NO statistics about how online dating leads to failure or anything please." He laughed and you told him where you were, asking him to call your cell when he was two minutes out.

Freshening up, you begrudgingly made your way back to Bretton. God, even his name sucked. You'd thought it sounded cool and suave when you'd seen his profile but now... Just ugh. You bet that wasn't even his real name.

Downing two drinks in quick succession you listened to him drone on and on about his clearly fake ass publishing deal. The guy couldn't even string a sentence together properly, no one was going to read any atrocity he produced.

Twenty seven soul deadening minutes later and your bag began to sing. Your work phone going off. Well, point one to Dr Reid, he'd had the sense to call that. It made the ruse so much easier if you were seen to be answering a different phone.

"Sorry, gotta take this. It's work." You turned away from the table, swiping to answer.

"Hey Y/N, I'm outside."

"Whats that? A double homicide in Cinncinati? But it's a Friday night..... Yes I know,..... Yes, yes, okay. You're outside already? But I'm on a date... Fine... I'll reschedule. You owe me. "