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A/N: Once again, HUGE thank you to my loyal readers and reviewers, who motivate me to stay up until twelve thirty to post another chapter. :) You make my day.

I hope you enjoy.

Chapter Ten:

I felt quite satisfied with myself.

No, that isn't true. I said I would be honest and, well… by the time I woke up the next morning, I had convinced myself that I was quite satisfied. This isn't to say that I didn't feel proud of myself as I left Dr. Grissom's car and headed inside, but there was a shadow hovering over me that left me almost… trembling. I told myself that it was the cold and hurried upstairs to take a hot shower. In the back of my mind, I suppose I wondered where Anni was, but it was earlier than she would have been home if I'd been working, so I disregarded it. My nice clothes went right back into the closet—I hadn't sweat in them and my heels had kept the bottom of my pants off the wet ground. I didn't want to wash them more than necessary and have them fade or look worn out prematurely.

Under the water, though, I couldn't seem to get warm. My skin was hot to the touch, but I was chilled to my bones. My previous lovers would have given me the money to fix the car if they'd seen me react that way—although it was unlikely they would—but I couldn't imagine that a single one of them would have offered to fix it. Even if they would have known how. It was a gift of time—of genuine concern—not simply resources and… appeasement. At the time, of course, I didn't understand it in this way. I rationalized—they hadn't known how because they were men who were in professions, unlike Dr. Grissom, where they didn't work with their hands. His expertise came from field work. And besides, they had been older than Dr. Grissom… they had the money to spoil me, so they didn't need to exert themselves to solve my problems. That was a sign of a well-established man, strong and stable and secure.

Despite my skin, still hot to the touch and bright pink in the mirror as I stepped out, I could feel myself shivering. I went to bed without drying my hair, sleeping in flannel pajama pants, a fleece Harvard sweatshirt, and thick socks I would have laughed at before I moved to Boston. Being as slight as I was, it seemed like I was always cold in the winters up here. I surprised myself by falling asleep rapidly and sleeping for several hours, despite how early it was and my usual insomnia. I still woke up at four, but I felt as though I'd slept a week's worth in a single night. I stayed in my cocoon of warmth for at least an hour before sliding out and trudging into the bathroom that was between my room and Anni's.

At first, I simply started the water and stared at my reflection, thinking that my face looked a little brighter than I was used to and that this sleeping thing would be great if I could figure out how to do it every night… but I was a naturally observant person, and I realized that Anni's contact solution and case weren't on the counter, where they usually were. I frowned at it and moved to her door, opening it to find her bed empty. …She hadn't come home the night before. This was strange, yes, but not altogether worrying. I mean… I felt like there was something I was missing, but I wasn't concerned. She had obviously planned to spend the night somewhere.

Another shower and I felt better than I had in weeks. Optimistic and excited. I once again dressed with care, but this time I was going for a different effect… because short skirts in the cold, early morning didn't look sexy, they looked foolish. And from the chill still in the air, I figured it might still be raining. Neither of my bedroom windows faced the front of the townhouse we were renting (thanks in large part to Anni's endless allowance), but I took my jeans and button down shirt with the three-quarter-length sleeves and deposited them in Anni's room, beside the window that did face the front. I opened the curtains and turned on the lights for good measure, and then finished getting ready and packing up my bag, depositing it by the front door. I straightened my hair—I was fairly certain he'd only seen in curly—letting the ends flip up. I put on a matching bra and underwear set—brown lace, with pink ribbons. It felt every-day enough to not seem suspicious, but still sexy. And then, huddled by a hall window that also faced the front of the building, I waited for him to pull up.

I recognized the car down the street and, taking a deep breath, hurried into Anni's room, doing my best to look like I was frantically hurrying to get ready. I had a toothbrush in my mouth for good measure, though I'd brushed my teeth half an hour ago, and didn't glance at the window as I shimmied into my jeans and then slid the shirt on, hastily buttoning it with my entire torso facing the window but my head bent down, focused on the buttons. …If he hadn't noticed me up here, he would surely be by the door now, wouldn't he?

I turned and rushed to the bathroom, replacing my toothbrush in its holder and giving myself another once-over, pleased with the knock that sounded up the stairs. At the very least, the timing fit. I turned off lights as I hurried downstairs, opening the door in a rush. "Hey, sorry, come in. I just have to grab socks and then I'm ready. I overslept a little." I said in a rush, offering him a smile and then turning to run back up the stairs. The short glance I'd gotten of him told me very little. I couldn't tell if he'd seen me or not, but I certainly hoped… especially with all the progress I'd made the night before. I snagged a pair of socks and slipped them over my feet before coming back down the stairs in a rush. He'd closed the door, and was standing in my entryway with his hands in his jacket pockets, a small smile on his face.

"There's no rush, Sara… we've got time. I can drop you off at the door to your building—you don't need to worry about walking from a parking lot. Have you eaten?"

I blushed, and shook my head. "It's fine. I can grab something in between classes." I bent and picked up a shoe, attempting to slip it on without untying the laces and stumbling a little. I had intended to do this with the other shoe as well and then tip, letting him catch me—but I didn't have to. He caught my shoulders gently the first time I stumbled, steadying me while I slipped into my footwear. I glanced at him, smiling a little shyly. "…Thanks."

"No problem. Really, Sara, I'm not in any hurry. Grab yourself something to eat…"

I blinked, looking uncertain, and then slowly nodded. "…Okay. Can I get you something? I'd kill for a cup of coffee…"

He chuckled, and followed me as I moved through the hallway into the kitchen, dumping out the coffee I'd made earlier that morning—thankfully early enough that the fresh smell wasn't still lingering—as if it were yesterday's leftovers and starting a fresh pot. A glance at the clock told me that we really did have time—he was here ten minutes early. Without needing me to tell him to, he slid into one of the seats pulled up to the bar top that was our only dining surface. Digging for a moment, I came up with fruit, yogurt, bagels, and toast. I tried to tempt him and failed, until I chanced upon a container of chocolate chip muffins I'd bought on an impulse and completely forgotten.

He took one with little to no arm twisting, and I cut a grapefruit in half and added sugar while the coffee finished brewing. I hadn't expected this, of course, but it was nice… sitting with him, eating muffins and drinking coffee and licking the sugary fruit juice from my spoon when I knew he was watching me out of the side of his eyes. It was a domestic moment with a man I hardly knew and it certainly hadn't been a part of my plan for seduction… but it was comfortable. Short, but… sweet. In ten minutes we'd cleaned up and moved back to the entryway, and he waited patiently while I slipped into a coat, picked up my backpack, and then locked the door behind us while we stood in the drizzling morning.

"This, uh… is a nice place. Especially for a poor college student." This last part came with a teasing tone, but I could tell he was genuinely curious. I offered a sheepish smile.

"My roommate's family is pretty well off. I can afford my half of the rent as long as she covers the utilities and other expenses. …We wanted to be roommates, but she was pretty used to a certain kind of lifestyle…" He chuckled softly and we slid into his car in what felt like a single movement, fluid and in-sync. I offered him a smile and pretended not to notice when his eyes flickered down to my blouse which was unbuttoned just far enough to entice the eye.

He dropped me off, as promised, and I moved through my day in a blur of happiness, feeling as though so many previously irritating things in my life were now practically enchanting. I found Dr. Felton's appreciative gaze, reminiscent but much more lingering than Dr. Grissom's had been, almost flattering. And when the end of the day came and I entered Dr. Grissom's classroom, it was all I could do to keep from skipping to my desk. He started in, talking about my car, and I got the feeling he'd spent a good portion of time, either last night or today, reading about possible car problems and how they could be fixed without a trip to the mechanic. That strange flare of melancholy approached again, baffling me, but it was quickly swept away as I involved myself in his discussion.

In class, we went over the technological advances that had been made in identifying trace evidence, but I couldn't focus. It might have been the first time that I was bored while listening to Dr. Grissom teach. I had to curl my toes up in my shoes to prevent myself from leaping to my feet when he dismissed class. Together, we walked over to my car and I unlocked it and popped the hood, watching as he bent his skinny—really, almost scrawny, except for those broad shoulders—body over the engine. …I didn't know anything about cars, so what he was doing was nonsense to me, but he seemed to understand it. Occasionally he would ask me to do something—pass him one of the tools he'd brought in a handheld tool kit or try to start the car or hold his flashlight—but mostly I sat on the ground, leaning against a tire, just talking to him.

God, I over-talked around him.

Not about anything in particular… but he just had a way of getting me going on a topic and then I didn't know when to quit. He'd mentioned theoretical physics and something concerning the nature of the universe and fifteen minutes later I'd realize my mouth was dry because I hadn't stopped talking longer than it took to draw breath and that he was standing, no longer looking at the engine, because he was waiting for me to finish so he could ask me to start the car. He asked about my family, and so I told him about California. I said my parents had owned a Bed and Breakfast right on the ocean, which was true, and that I would spent all of my free time on the beach, which was also true. I just didn't mention that I hadn't lived in the B and B since I was too little to go to the beach by myself and that these memories were very… abridged. I talked about how much I loved the ocean and about learning how to surf. I wasn't sure if he noticed that I hadn't really said anything substantial about my family, but he didn't ask, and I wasn't sure why I felt relieved and yet saddened by this.

I wanted to ask him about Minnesota, but I wasn't sure what was or wasn't off-limits. The night before he'd told me outright that he didn't want to discuss…

"That's the only thing I really missed in Minnesota. Lots and lots of lakes, but no ocean. …It isn't the same." I blinked in surprise, glancing up at him from my place on the ground. He'd taken off his over-large glasses and put them on my passenger seat when he started, and somewhere along the line had removed his coat as well—it was no longer raining, just chilly, but his red face told me he was warm from the work he was doing on the car. His shirt sleeves were rolled and surprisingly well-defined forearms flexed as he moved, reaching and gripping and twisting tools while he spoke. "Still, I guess it's better than nothing…" he continued, wiping his cheek with the back of his hand and smearing grease in a small, thin smudge over the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow. His curls were just rumpled enough to look adorable and a little… reckless. I swallowed hard. "I couldn't imagine living without some body of water… but you know how that feels."

I blinked, taking a long moment to register his words. "…Oh. Well, I mean, I've lived in Boston for three years, so…"

He frowned, looking up from whatever he had been so intently focused on a moment before. "…There's an ocean here…"

I shrugged, sheepish again. "Right. No, I know. But… it isn't the same. It's not the Pacific."

He laughed—not just chuckled, but laughed outright—and it was so surprisingly warm and open and… defenseless. I turned fully to look at him, watching him brace his hand against my front bumper while he laughed, his whole body bent into it. And I couldn't help but smile and laugh too. After a several long moments, he turned his shockingly blue gaze fully on me again and grinned a little mischievously. "The next warm day, whether it's next week or next summer, we're going to the beach."

My mouth fell open in surprise, but what could I do but laugh and agree? His grin remained firmly in place while he tinkered for another couple minutes before telling me to try again. I pushed myself to my feet and slid through my open driver's side door and into the seat, turning the key and…

It started.

He whooped. There are no other words for it—male pride was practically oozing from his pores as he moved around the car to exchange an elated gaze with me. I was so compelled to kiss him—to run my hands over his grease-streaked cheeks and into his curls—that I actually stood up and moved forward… before stopped, hesitating, uncertain. He smiled, catching my movement and pulling me into a gentle hug. "…You're welcome, honey." He said softly, barely audibly, and I realized that there must have been gratitude written all over my face. …Which I was thankful for. It was preferable to him seeing the lust lingering just beneath the surface.

Still, I had butterflies in my stomach when I stepped back. …I wasn't sure when the last time I'd gotten butterflies—true, honest to goodness butterflies, not just that swooping, tingling heat—but I was certain that I had missed them.