"How did you even find that place?" I asked as we left the restaurant.
"Honestly, Derek recommended it to me," he confessed.
"The way in which I butchered the pronunciation of that one dish, the soup thing?"
"Soupe à L'Oignon," he said.
"Right, the whole eidetic memory thing," I laughed.
"Well, eidetic memory includes auditory memories as well as-" he began.
"Yeah, I know, I know… as well as a large range that includes various stimuli."
"You know your stuff," he said.
"Don't sound so surprised…I did my research," I said.
"So you looked me up?"
"No," I said, hoping that it was dark enough to cover the heat that I could feel creeping up my cheeks. I looked at him and saw that his facial muscles fighting off a smirk. "Okay, okay… I may have Googled your team and I may have researched what the heck 'eidetic' memory was in comparison to photographic memory."
"That's oddly cute."
"I'm glad you think so," I said. "So what's next on our evening of fun?"
"I was thinking we could go for a short walk?"
"Sounds lovely," I said, letting him lead me down the street. It was dark outside, with the street lights glowing a soft yellow. The sky was cloudy and the air was chilled. It wasn't a clear, warm beautiful night, but still a beautiful night, nonetheless.
"What are you thinking about?" Spencer's voice drew me from my thoughtless reprieve.
"It's beautiful out tonight," I said.
"It's a pity we can't see the stars, otherwise I could woo you with my astronomy skills," he said, and I let out a chuckle.
"I'll hold you to that," I said. "But I have a question for you."
"What?"
"Why did you decide to join the BAU?" I asked. "As you know, I did some light research and the work you guys do is heavy and deals with the worst of humanity."
"I've always been really intrigued by the ways that the human mind works, and with all my educational background, it just seemed like a logical work path and a way for me to utilize my skills best."
"That's a very logical answer," I said.
"What about you?"
"Hm?"
"Why did you decide to work as a secretary at the PR firm?"
"I…I honestly don't know. I mean, I guess I was hoping to get hired as a PR consultant, but they job wasn't hiring and I needed to work to pay my bills," I said, lying through my teeth. It'd be a little hard to explain that I was set up with the job to streamline the relocation process.
"Do you like it?"
"Pays the bills," I said. "It's not nearly as exciting as the stuff you guys do…I'm not catching serial killers."
"Yeah, you're just keeping records and stuff?"
"Don't make fun of me," I said, giving him a small shove. "Where are we going anyways?"
"Spontaneity."
"What?"
"I don't know where we're going, thus, spontaneity," he said, grinning. He looked like a child about to get in trouble.
"Okay, taking a rule straight from the Sarah playbook…I respect that." We walked in silence for a few moments. We passed by a park, where there was a couple holding under a street light, looking at each other and only each other.
It was utterly disgusting.
"So we went over everything in the restaurant: family, friends, jobs, etc, etc…" Spencer said.
"Yes, I guess we did," I said. "Anything else you need to know?"
"We can figure everything else out along the way, right?"
"Of course."
"I do have one more question for you," he said, stopping. I turned to face him.
"Okay?"
"Well, I guess it's more of two questions…"
"Shoot."
"Why don't you have as many roots here? I know that you said you're busy, but it seems odd to me…"
"Well," I said, "I don't really know… I guess I just don't trust people super easily and most people are turned off by it."
"That's fair, but you should give yourself more credit."
"Why, oh wise one," I said, mocking him slightly.
"You seemed to trust me pretty easily," he said, teasing me back.
"Are you making a joke?" I said, feigning shock.
"Maybe."
"For your information," I said, stopping to jab a finger in his chest, "I still have secrets…it creates an allure of mystery."
"Oh, I'm sure," he said, laughing. He gently pushed my hand off of his chest, and somehow ended up holding it. I felt myself tighten. Did he mean to hold my hand?
I slowly removed my hand from his loose grip. We resumed walking, an awkward silence looming over us. Spencer cleared his throat quietly, grabbing my attention.
"Oh, what was your other question?" I asked.
"Nothing…I'll save that one for later…keep you in suspense," he said. And like that, the silence and awkwardness disappeared.
"Of course, you will," I said. Then something caught my eye. "Oh my God, is that froyo?"
"Judging from the sign," Spencer said, "I believe you are correct."
"Let's go! My treat," I said, practically dragging Spencer into the little shop. The neon pink and yellow sign read, 'Froyo Mojo.' We walked into the practically empty store and I made a beeline for the cups.
"Here you go!" I said, handing a cup to Spencer.
"Did you know that yogurt was developed about 5,000 years ago and has origins in both the Middle East and India? But frozen yogurt didn't make an appearance until the 1970s when it was introduced by an entrepreneur who called it 'frogurt,' a very different name than the traditional 'froyo,' we call it today."
"I don't think you took a single breath in that whole statement," I said, getting some strawberry froyo. "And, no, I didn't know that." I rushed to the add-ins, where I promptly added in cheesecake bites, white chocolate chips, and strawberry boba. I glanced at Spencer's cup to see chocolate yogurt, adorned with Oreos, chocolate chips, sprinkles, and some sort of gummy candy. "You have quite the sweet tooth."
"I see you went with a strawberry cheesecake approach?" he said, gesturing towards my cup.
"But, of course," I said, placing my cup on the scale, with Spencer following suit. I quickly handed the woman behind the counter my card.
"You know, typically, the man is supposed to pay," Spencer said.
"But, as I am sure you may have guessed, I'm not too big on typical." We made our way to a table, sitting across from each other. "God, I love froyo."
"Not too many places in Stafford have good froyo?"
"Not too many places in Stafford have froyo. Period," I said, spooning another bite into my mouth. "That was absolutely the worst thing about moving here. Froyo was my jam in Whitefish."
"Noted."
"What about you? You're from Vegas…is there anything you miss from there?"
"I mean, I miss my mom-" he began.
"You're close with your mom? That's amazing," I gushed, before realizing I had interrupted him. "Sorry."
"Yeah, but I don't get down there as much as I would like. I remember when I was little, I would play chess in the park near my house, and I guess I miss those memories."
"No, I get that. Memories are sometimes the only thing to get you through the day," I murmured. We ate in silence for a few moments before I noticed Spencer was wearing some of his food. "Dude, you got some on your face."
"Thanks," he said, grabbing a napkin.
"Wow, I ate that fast," I said, glancing at my now empty cup.
"Did you know that eating fast causes us to take in more calories and feel less satisfied?"
"Did you know that my froyo was delicious and I regret nothing?" I asked, mocking him slightly as I threw away my cup. "You done?"
"Yeah," he said, throwing away his empty cup. "I guess we should be heading back to the car?"
"Sounds like a plan," I said, following him out of the shop. "You know, we've gone over all the basics, but I know no fun facts about you – excluding the intelligence stuff – like… what's your favorite color, favorite animal, favorite food, pet peeve, that kind of silly stuff."
"Let's see… my favorite color is green, although purple is a close second, I don't really have a favorite animal? I love pad thai, which explains why I've been able to 'master' that recipe, and my pet peeve would be when people pretend to experts on things that they know nothing about. What about you?"
"Very interesting. My favorite color is red, my favorite animals are sloths…I love all food, does that count? My pet peeve is when people talk loudly on their phones… Oh! And also, when I have to repeat myself multiple times," I said. We continued with our odd, elementary questions, until we reached the car.
"Your favorite number is seven?" I asked. "Any particular reason for that one?"
"Well, seven, within societal notions, is unique and is reflected within secular culture from seven days in a week to something as arbitrary as the seven dwarfs in Snow White. Even when looking at religion, especially in Christian and Judaism beliefs, the seventh day was the holy, resting day, therefore, making seven a holy number. I guess, I'm just intrigued by the representation it has in our society."
"That's an oddly well-thought out answer to a silly question," I said, getting into the passenger's seat. "I, personally, am partial to the number 21."
"Reasoning?"
"I don't know," I confessed. "I just woke up one day in middle school, I think, and decided that 21 was my lucky and favorite number…Wish it was more inspiring and deep-felt."
"No, that's…cute," he said.
"Now, who thinks who is cute!" I said, triumphantly.
"You're too much," he said.
"I try."
We continued discussing our elementary questions the whole ride back to my apartment complex.
"Let me walk you up to your apartment?" he said, pulling into a parking spot.
"The perfect gentlemen," I said, giving a small laugh. We then made our way up the stairs to my apartment.
"Well, this is me," I said, stopping in front of my door.
"Seems it is."
"Thanks for tonight, I know I was hesitant…but I had a good time," I said.
"I'm glad," Spencer said, giving me a smile.
"Although," I said, "I have to admit that I have no clue what the name of the restaurant was."
"Perfect," he said, "then I can just take you there again."
"Again?" I asked, smiling.
"Well, do you want to do it again?" he asked.
"Spencer," I said, "I would love too."
"Glad to hear that," he said, smiling. Not able to help myself, I stretched up on my toes, and gave him a soft peck on the cheek. Unlocking my door, I entered my apartment before meeting his gaze. It may have been the lighting but I would have sworn that his face was tinged with a soft pink.
"Well," I said, "Goodnight, and drive safe."
"Goodnight Sarah."
With that, I closed my door and locked it tightly. I quickly made my way to my bedroom, falling asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow. And I would be lying if I said that I wasn't thinking – or dare I say, dreaming – of a certain tall, messy-haired genius.