Disclaimer: I don't own.

A/N: Thanks for the wonderful reviews. :) I will try to update during the week, as we'll be out of town next weekend, but no promises. Hopefully this update will tide you over for a while. Enjoy!

Chapter Seven:

I woke up with Anni in my bed.

It surprised me, sure, but it wasn't alarming—I often woke up with her, but then, I'd usually fallen asleep with her there. Today, she had crawled in of her own accord, and despite it being early—really early—she was awake. I blinked blearily, wondering if I'd woken up because I'd felt her slip in beside me, or if it was simply my body clock waking me before my alarm, as usual. I peered at the windows, and they told me very little. I kept my room dark, because if I didn't, I would get even less sleep than I did now.

She lifted a slender finger and traced down my nose. "I'm hiding from Todd."

I blinked. "…Why?"

My voice sounded like shit and I threw an arm out to my right, fingers clutching and finding nothing at first before finally closing around my glass of water. It was warm, but it was better than nothing. While I tilted my head up at a strange angle to take a sip, Anni sighed and threw her dark head into my pillows. "He's a sleep-cuddler. It's like sleeping with a koala bear."

Even in my sleepy haze, I was pretty sure that didn't make sense. I felt an eyebrow go up. "…What?"

She clucked her tongue and rolled to face me. "You know. In pictures, they're always like… clinging on to each other. It's like, Okay, I get it, you love each other. …Baby koala or not, Mama bear needs her space."

I stared at her for a long, long moment, letting this filter in. And then snorted, and together we dissolved into hysterical giggling, trying to keep quiet so as not to wake Todd.

When I could breathe again, I eyed her. I was willing to bet that wasn't the real reason she was in here, but of course I would never call her on it. Part of it, I was sure, was that she liked Todd too much… she was trying to distance herself, a little, and if it was in a vaguely homoerotic fashion, crawling into my bed in lacy panties and a tank top, well, that was all the better—it made her feel edgy and adventurous and emphasized the distance thing. And, I thought, a part of it might just be that she missed me.

"…We never get to talk anymore. What's going on with my Sara?"

The slightly vulnerable look in her eyes confirmed that suspicion and I smiled, reaching over to brush a stray, dark lock from her cheeks. I would never tell her that I missed her blonde hair—that I really liked it on her much better—because I knew that the way the black made her feel. I knew, in the instinctual way of someone who has been trying for the same effect their whole lives, just in different ways, that it helped her bury her family… distinguish herself from them in a way that visual and obvious and striking. It made her feel badass and powerful and liberated. And, well, that feeling was more important than the reality.

I knew, because I had had many psychologists tell me that it was why I liked to dress promiscuously. It made me feel strong and powerful and in control of my own sexuality—in control of my whole person—and it allowed me to feel admired and desired and worthy of men's attention. In fact, it made me feel downright deserving. And so, despite knowing that what they said was true—that I was going about it the wrong way and that my appearance was a cry for help and that I really came off looking easy, as opposed to sexually liberated—everything still came back to the fact that, for the first time in my life, I felt good about myself, and I felt like my body was my own.

Fuck the psychologists; I was keeping this feeling if it killed me.

"Nothing, really. Work and school, you know. You see me every day…"

"Yeah, but Todd's always there…" She said with slight annoyance that told me that he wouldn't be lasting long—which was sad, because I was pretty sure she liked him a lot. But, you know, that was probably why he wouldn't last very long…

I smirked. "My next night off, we'll have a girls night. We won't hang out at The Lantern, with everyone else. We'll go to a club or something."

"A club neither of us can get into…?" She asked, pointing out that we were both underage. It hadn't really occurred to me—it had been a long time since I'd worried about not being able to get alcohol simply because I was a minor—but I shook my head.

"There's that new place, where you only have to be 18 to get in… Or, what's that one that Tim is a bouncer at? …Nightlife!"

She beamed. "Okay… we'll do it. No guys!"

I chuckled, curling back into my pillows sleepily. "…What time is it?"

"Mmm… One thirty? Maybe two?" Oh fuck. I'd hardly been asleep an hour, if that. I groaned and rolled so my back was to her. "I have class in the morning…"

"Dr. Grissom's class…?"

I rolled back to her in alarm. It wasn't that I was worried about Anni knowing—she usually knew—it was just that I hadn't told her. If she'd found out from someone else, before anything had even happened… that was bad. It was really bad. "What?"

She chuckled. "You're too easy, honey. Todd's roommate, Shawn, is in your class. Todd mentioned you in passing, talking about how we hung out at the bar where my roommate worked… and when he said your name, Shawn said you seemed like a real brownnoser, staying after class every day and asking all those questions. Todd was surprised—he said you seemed more like a party girl than a teacher's pet."

I breathed a sigh of relief. Still, it was worrying how small this campus apparently was. "Oh… okay."

She snickered. "So, he banging you yet?"

I rolled my eyes, not finding her words offensive but the scare of a moment before preventing me from reacting with giggles the way I might have in another moment. "No. He's… difficult."

"What do you mean?"

I pursed my lips. Anni was not interested in teachers. They weren't destructive enough, externally, for her. I told you, she wanted to feel bad ass, because her entire childhood had been a fucking tea party. Or, you know, a cotillion. I wasn't entirely certain what that was, but I had the impression that it was like the prom for rich people, except they happened all the time, and you didn't dance to modern music, but string quartets, and you didn't drink punch that someone—jocks, druggies, etc.—had spiked with Jack Daniels, but sipped champagne instead. Anni talked about them a lot, when she talked about high school, but it was always with distaste.

"I, uh… He's…" I sighed, scrubbing my tired face with both hands. "I don't think he's ever been with a student before. So, when he looks at me… sometimes I'm pretty sure he wants me, and other times…" I glanced at her, noting her creased brow. "Well, anyway, things are going slowly because I don't think it's even occurred to him at this point that something could happen between us. I'm so off-limits that he doesn't even consider it."

"But you want him to." She says, and nod a little sheepishly.

"I don't think I've ever wanted someone this badly…" Her raised eyebrow asks the question, and I fall back against my pillows, staring at my ceiling, thinking how to describe it. "I… I think it's because I've never really done the pursuing. I mean, you know, with the others… they wanted me. If we hooked up, great, if not… well, that was their problem. They were the ones who had failed to seduce me."

She snorted softly. "We all know how well you deal with failure…" she teased, but it wasn't funny. I didn't deal with failure at all—it was unacceptable. I was done feeling inadequate all the time, and since I'd come to school, it had been a rare emotion. I wasn't prepared to let one quirky, naïve scientist from the middle of nowhere compromise that. I pictured him bent over a body, covered in bugs, in the middle of a massive forest—the only real reference I had of Minnesota was the Little House books—and I felt a tinge of condescension coloring my imagining. How dare he make me feel like I wasn't good enough for him? Like I should have to work for his attention.

Sara Sidle didn't fail. At anything.

"Right." I said stiffly. "Well, anyway, it's really just a matter of time…"

She yawned and scooted closer to me, resting her head on my shoulder. "Wear that little leather skirt, and I guarantee you'll have him on his knees…"

So, when I woke a few hours later, Anni still fast asleep under my covers, I took her advice to heart. I took a shower, shaved my legs with meticulous care, styled my hair into controlled ringlets, and borrowed some of Anni's makeup to create the perfect look. I chose a modest shirt, knowing that Dr. Grissom hadn't responded nearly as well when I didn't tone down my dress, and then slipped into the skin-tight skirt that only just covered all the necessary areas, with maybe an inch to spare. If I dropped a pencil today, I'd have to leave it, but otherwise…

Dr. Felton made his appreciation of my extra effort known, and even tried to get me to stay after class on the pretense of saying he'd lost my last paper and did I happen to have another copy—I did, but I told him I was pretty sure I didn't—and his lack of concern told me that this was a blatant lie to facilitate conversation. It might have been flattering if I hadn't been avoiding him since that first day of class, but I had been, and I knew he'd noticed. I was just irritated, and walked off with a toss of my perfect curls when he said he was sure he'd be able to find my paper.

Liar, liar, pants on fire. In more ways than one. Eww.

I had bought the skirt to go out in, and it didn't feel exactly right in school… I was constantly crossing and uncrossing my legs, self-consciously, and over my long lunch break, had the urge to head home and change before he could see me in it. Surely he would just think I looked like a whore…

But the lingering anger I'd felt the night before, at the idea of failure—at the idea of him making me a failure—flared up, and I remembered Anni's words. You'll have him on his knees…

I forced myself into class at the same time as always, twenty minutes early, and when he looked up at me expectantly and his jaw literally dropped… when the reserved, respectful, professional scientist eyed me up and down like I was a piece of meat he simply couldn't help but drool over… I no longer felt self-conscious, nor did I worry about failure. I sent Anni a silent thank-you.

I still had to move things slowly, with him, but I knew that I had him. …My father had rarely spent time with me, when I was little, but he did take me fishing with him and my brother, a few times, when my mom was spending the day "deep-cleaning" the bed and breakfast at the end and beginning of the busy season. One thing I remembered specifically was a long explanation the pair of them had given me about setting the hook once the bait had been nibbled. That was more important than reeling—getting the hook stuck in the fish's mouth, keeping him on your line. If you set the hook, then you could reel that fish in at your leisure, no matter how much he fought against you, providing your line was thick enough.

I had no doubt that my line was thick enough… and this skirt, this moment in time, was me setting my hook.

Let the reeling begin.