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"AND YOU GUYS didn't kiss?!" Garcia was baffled to say the least. "Not even in the car before coming to work, or in the break room? Or when—"
Odessa erupted into a fit a laughter. "Pen, no! No, we didn't kiss."
The blonde raised her eyebrows in disbelief. "So you're just gonna leave me high and dry?"
The brunette rolled her eyes. "Leave you high and dry?" she scoffed. "Imagine how I feel," she muttered so quiet that Garcia would have thought it was the wind if it wasn't for the blush on Odessa's cheeks.
There was a light knock on the door to Garcia's office. JJ stood in the doorway with an armful of case files and a hesitant look on her face. "Hey, Penelope," the blonde started, glancing between the two of them with a suspicious look on her face, "I need some help."
Garcia perked up, setting her chicken noodle soup to the side. It had become tradition for the technical analyst and ex-criminal to eat lunch together in her cramped office. "With what, Barbie?"
JJ bit her lip, unsure if she should speak in front of Odessa.
Odessa could sense that she was being a roadblock. Clearing her throat, she gathered the scraps of her lunch into her to-go container and sighed. "I should probably get back to work...," she trailed off, standing from her rolling chair. She could feel her face flush of all color as she looked at JJ; when would the blonde like her? "Sorry," she muttered before squeezing past the doorframe and the woman.
"Hotch wants the team to start taking on other cases..." those were the last words Odessa could make out before JJ closed the door.
The brunette begged her brain to stop pending on the question of why JJ didn't at least pretend to like her. It was frustrating to dwell on such a thing when she could easily focus on Garcia, Emily, or Spencer who did like her.
Spencer...
"Shut up," she muttered angrily at herself, hastily throwing the remains of her lunch into a nearby garbage can.
As she walked through the halls, making her way to the bullpen, she wondered how she would keep herself busy. Usually she spent her days hiding in Garcia's lair doing whatever paperwork Hotch had assigned her. But, now her hideout was infiltrated, and any further progression on her case was being "reviewed," as Hotch described.
Bottom line, she was bored. She felt more as if she was being babysat than working for her freedom.
Before she could get two feet into the bullpen, she heard the once demanding voice of Derek Morgan call her name.
"Collins," he said playfully, as if they'd been friends forever.
Odessa scrunched her eyebrows and stopped in her place, suspicious of the man approaching her. "Morgan?" More than a million thoughts raced through her head as he took long, yet seemingly relaxed strides toward her.
