Chapter 1.
The first thing I noticed was his socks.
One purple, with bright green stars.
The other yellow with blue whales, water spouting from their blowholes.
Then his eyes. Eyes so mesmerizing that even the seas and the skies couldn't compare.
His shoulder length-blonde locks, and his cheesy smile.
I took in his purple shirt, brown stripy tie and grey cardigan. It should have looked utterly ridiculous, but on him it just looked strangely adorable. It took me a moment to realise that he was talking to me, whilst I was staring, open mouthed at his strange yet adorable looks.
"I'm so sorry," I blurted out, glancing down at my pile of books that had tumbled to the floor. I dropped to my knees, completely embarrassed but not surprised by how I acted. If 'socially awkward' had a human form, it would be me. He knelt down beside me, and begun to help. "Oh, you don't have- okay." He handed me the last book, and I muttered thanks under my breath before dashing to the counter to pay for my books.
"Pride and Prejudice?" He asked, the corners of his mouth curving upwards into a smile. I felt like the lamest and geekiest person on the whole entire planet. I was moving into my own place, and my grandma was not willing to part with her copy of the classic, which meant I had to purchase another one. "My favourite part is when Darcy proclaims his love for Elizabeth." I looked up at him in amazement.
"No way," I blurted out before I could think through my response. "Elizabeth shuts him down and-"
"Exactly," he beamed. I'd never met anyone who would willingly discuss the book, let alone admit to reading it. "I'm Spencer. Spencer Reid."
"Riley Kyle," I offered him a small smile, before turning to pay for my books. I had also bought another Jane Austin novel, and the entire Sherlock Holmes collection by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Sherlock was honestly, hands down, my favourite show of all time. Benedict Cumberbatch is literally my hero. I thought it was about time I read the original stories.
"I was wondering if, you could-" Spencer cleared his throat nervously. "Erh, show me where Santa Monica Pier is?" I bit on my lip to stop me from smiling like a loon, and nodded. The cold breeze rustled my hair. God how I love winter. Summer is my mortal enemy. Forty degree weather is not okay. In winter I live in hoodies, just like my signature black one that I was currently wearing. My friends had tried to persuade me to wear 'lighter' colours. They tried to trade my dark blue jeans in for lighter denim, but let's just say it didn't work out.
"So, where are you from?" I asked.
"I was born and raised in Las Vegas, but had to move to California for college, and then to Virginia for work," Spencer smiled. "What about you?"
"I was born in Australia. I lived there for 14 years, and then I moved to London. I got accepted into Caltech when I was 18, so I moved to Los Angeles." It had been my dream for as long as I can remember to get accepted into Caltech, and now that it had finally happened, it didn't feel real. Things like this, they just didn't happen to me. I was like an omen of death- but an omen of bad luck.
"Caltech? I graduated from there when I was 17," he said, glancing into a shop window as if what he had said was nothing.
"17?" I squeaked. I was still struggling with school exams when I was 17, and he was already graduating Caltech? "That means you would have to have graduated school at age-"
"I was 12. It wasn't fun being the only 13 year old in college."
"I was struggling with basic algebra when I was 12."
Spencer laughed and shook his head. "If you got accepted into Caltech, you're definitely doing okay." I was still staring at him opened mouthed, wondering how he managed to graduate with enough credit at 12. As if reading my thoughts, he begun to explain. "I have an IQ of 187, an eidetic memory and can read up to 20,000 words a minute." I literally stopped in my tracks. I feel like I have met the real life version of Sherlock Holmes. Too bad he doesn't solve crimes, and have a ridiculously real bromance with someone called John.
"What is it you do for a living, again?" I asked, staring up at Spencer in awe and confusion.
"I work the FBI. I'm a profiler in the Behavioral Analysis Unit." Spencer looked down at me, and he must have seen the blank look on my face so he elaborated. "Basically, I profile murders and assist with their capture." Literally, he was the real life Sherlock Holmes.
"Do you have a friend called John?" I blurted out before I could stop myself.
"What? No, why?" He looked utterly confused, and I wanted the ground to swallow me whole.
"Forget I said that. Sorry, I'm socially awkward." I stared at Spencer, absolutely petrified. I am the lamest human being in existence.
"Me too. I once tried to pick up girls using information from the case I was working on."
"I'm guessing you didn't have much luck?" I laughed.
"They left before I could even ask for their names," he admitted sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. I saw the red rising to his cheeks, and my heart went out to this 20-something year old, genius with the coolest socks, job and book taste in the whole entire world.
"Ouch. How could they not find the details of a crime interesting? It bewilders me." Spencer laughed, and I realised he thought I was being sarcastic, but unfortunately, I was dead serious. I've been watching too much Sherlock. We turned the corner and in front of us laid Santa Monica Pier. I cursed myself for taking the shortcut. I thought this was going to turn like all of my social encounters – awkward and boring. I thought I was being brilliant by planning ahead and taking the shortcut. Last time I plan ahead.
"Did you know that Santa Monica Pier opened on September 9th, 1909?" Spencer informed me, whilst a little boy walked past, stuffing his face with cotton candy.
"You can't be real," I laughed, then realised I said it out loud. "What I mean is, how do you just know that? You haven't even been here before." I asked, and he smiled looking out across the pier. The sun was bouncing off of his golden hair, making him look incredibly angel-like.
"It must be my eidetic memory," he shrugged. "Either that or the fact that I'm a genius."
I rolled my eyes. "Alright, genius, tell me something about Los Angeles, that I wouldn't know."
"Alright," Spencer's eyes gleamed. "Los Angeles was originally called 'El Pueblo de Nuestra Senora la Reina de los Angeles del Rio de Porciuncula, which translates to 'the town-'"
"'The Town of Our Lady the Queen of the Angels on the Porciuncula River.'" Spencer raised his eyebrows. "I took Spanish in high school, who knew it would come in handy. Certainly not me." Spencer laughed, and his eyes twinkled.
"Thank you," Spencer smiled down at me, and I looked up at him in confusion.
"Thanks for what, sorry?" I asked. I could tell he was trying his very hardest not to laugh at me. How it must feel to be a genius surrounded by stupid, forgetful morons like me.
"For taking me here silly." I literally wanted to jump off the side railing and drown or, be eaten by a monstrous shark and have him excrete little 'Riley' flakes so that I could be eaten again.
"Oh, right. Sorry. God, I'm so bad." Spencer shook his head, and opened his mouth to say something but closed it. "Go on, tell me the fact."
"How'd you know it was going to be a fact?" He asked, cocking his head to one side.
"Well, I am talking to a genius with an eidetic memory, aren't I?" I gave him a toothy smile, which probably looked like something out of Exorcist or The Ring.
"The original purpose of the Santa Monica Pier was to carry sewage out past the breakers."
"I think I just found myself a walking Encyclopedia." I then realised that I've known him for less than an hour, and I was talking as if I was going to see him again and was able to use his knowledge in the future. I couldn't even begin to imagine the awkward situation I'd put him in. If I could read minds, his would read something like:
God, I catch the bad guys and lock them away, the least you can do is magic me away from her.
"Right, well. Bye," I waved quickly, and begun to half-run, half-walk down the boardwalk.
"Riley! Wait," I heard him call my name, and I stopped. I swear to God, if I've forgotten my phone or book bag, or if I accidentally stepped on a dog during my 'quick exit,' I will actually jump off the railing. He stopped besides me, panting. "I never got your number."
"What, sorry?" I blinked. "I-uh. Oh!" No one had ever asked me for my number before. This was new. Do I write it down on paper and give it to him? What if he loses it? I don't even have any paper. Before I could stress myself out, and make myself want to die, he handed me his phone. It took me about four minutes before I realised I should hand him mine. I made sure to click on 'add new contact' first. I didn't want him to see my contacts list which consisted of three people.
"I'll call you." He turned and walked back onto the pier, and I swear, I could see his hands shaking. Maybe he was just as nervous as me? Nah, when you look like that you're bound to have plenty of experience.
I smiled in spite of myself, walked towards my favourite coffee shop in the whole entire world. Although, I won't deny that American coffee is nothing compared to the coffee you get in Australia, it's still good.
"Riley!" The waitress, Bec, gave me a hug. Is it sad that I spend so much time here that I'm basically best friends with all the waitressing staff, the cashier, the cooks and the manager? Nah. She followed me to my special corner. "The usual, I'm guessing?"
"You know it," I winked before she walked off towards the kitchen. I pulled out my books that I had bought today, and decided to start Sherlock Holmes. Apparently the books are incredible, and words couldn't even begin to describe how excited I was. I sniffed the book pages, and to anyone watching I must have looked like a psychotic who got high on new book fumes, but honestly, the smell made me feel like I was at home again.
"Did you know that books are just dead, tattooed trees?" I told Bec when she returned with my beverage, which looked so enticing and tantalizing.
"I've never met someone with a stranger mind." Bec laughed, and walked off to serve more customers. I was still trying to determine whether that was a compliment or not, when I realised that my drink was going to go cold.
I was so enticed in the magical mystery that is Sherlock Holmes, that I didn't even realise it was closing time. Bec tapped me on the shoulder at nine, and I reluctantly left the heated coffee shop, that smelled of all things chocolate. I lived close to the coffee shop, close enough that it wasn't more than a five minute walk, but it was dark out. I picked up the pace, walking quickly with my head down. A shiver went down my spine, making all the hairs on my neck stand up. My hands trembled as I reached to tuck a loose strand hair behind my hair.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the shadow of a man flicker past. I squinted as I tried to make out anything in the darkness that engulfed me. From the shadows came a cold, cruel laugh. My eyes widened and horror was etched across my features. I froze, every single limb in my body tensing. I willed myself to run, but my feet seemed to be glued to the pavement.
Something moved in the shadows, and I felt as if my heart was about to burst through my chest. I watched, tremendously nervous and anxious as the figure drew closer to me. The shadows danced across his features as he stepped into view. His face lit up under the luminous street light.
He stepped towards me, and my eyes widened in alarm. Panic flared in my eyes, and my heart was pounding against my ribcage. The wind howled around me and it sounded like a sick, eerie melody to my ears. I could hear my tattered breath in my own ears. His intense eyes appeared bottomless. They looked as if they could swallow me whole. I could feel my pulse all over – pumping in my throat, thundering in my head, pounding in my ears. My senses were strung tight, like a rubber band pulled to near breaking point. Dread washed over me like a tidal wave.
Without a second thought, I dashed away from the man. My feet hit the ground hard as I barreled down the footpath. The sound of my heartbeat filled my eyes. The adrenaline was pumping like lava through my veins. My breath came out in sharp, quick gasps and my arms moved in synch with my legs as I sprinted as fast as I could, away from him. Fear coursed through my body like blood.
My animal instincts were pulsing through me like a second heartbeat as I ran. My breath began to falter as I struggled to breathe. I could see him coming, rapidly catching up to me. My legs burned from running and every limb in my body was screaming at me to stop, but I wouldn't, couldn't. My mouth was dry as my breath became lodged in my threat. The acid swelled in my stomach as nausea swept over me. Fear had settled in, eating away at me with each step I took.
An ear piercing scream passed my lips as I came to a halt. Standing in front of me, was him.
I panicked, staggering backwards in shock. He stood before me, the light casting eerie shadows on his face. I glanced down at my trembling hands. I felt a cold tickle upon my ice cold, pale cheeks. I blinked the tears from my bloodshot eyes, my lashes stuck together in clumps as if I'd been swimming. The tears created wet tracks down the side of my face.
Icy fingers gripped my arm in the darkness. I screamed, but the sound was muffled by a gag. My vision began to fade, and my eyes rolled into the back of my head.
this is the first time I've ever tried writing something like this.
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