Grissom retrieved his glasses from the podium and placed them gently in his shirt pocket. "That is all for today. Please have your report on the history of forensic ballistics ready for next class."
Grissom rushed to collect his belongings and leave the lecture hall. Two weeks had passed since he and Sara had gone to the coffee shop, and he was desperately trying to avoid being alone with her again. He made sure that the rest of their conversation that day was strictly forensics-related and professional. He knew that if he could make it through his seminar without another social encounter, he would be able to maintain the professional boundaries needed between professor and student. Not to mention maintain the boundaries between a man and a woman who was fifteen years his junior. The catch was, he missed spending time with her.
"Dr. Grissom, are you in a hurry?"
Gil glanced up to see Sara observing him, a questioning look on her face. "No, why?" He felt like an idiot. He was obviously shoving items into his bag quickly - some of his papers had even fallen to the floor.
She laughed. "No reason. Just that I half expect you to grow wings and fly out of here, that's all."
"I'm just trying to be efficient with my time."
Sara's smile faded, and she looked around the room to see if the other students had cleared the lecture hall. They had.
"Are you avoiding me?"
Grissom felt as though his heart stopped. "No, of course not."
"It's just, after we met for coffee and I made that comment about your eyes, you seem different. I wanted to say that, if you felt it was inappropriate of me, I apologize. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
Grissom was in panic mode. How was he supposed to respond? He couldn't explain to her that he was the one being inappropriate. He couldn't tell her that she was making him feel things he hadn't felt in a long time. And now she was apologizing to him! He was caught between making an admission of his feelings and letting her believe that she had offended him. He didn't know what to say, so he said nothing.
Sara waited a few moments for him to respond. When he didn't, she sighed and dropped her gaze to the floor. "Okay. Thanks for taking the time to talk with me – it was very helpful." She looked at him one last time with sadness in her eyes, and gave him a small smile.
And with that she left.
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Sara paced in her small apartment, sipping her third Sam Light and listening to Bjork's 'Human Behavior.' She was known for picking up any debut album she could get her hands on, but she found this one in particular very compelling.
Be ready to get confused
There's definitely no logic to human behavior
As someone who had spent her life looking for answers in the rational world, Sara had always had difficulty relating to others on various levels. She knew that she could pretend to be social and make friends like everyone else, but there was no compelling reason to do so. Sara felt alone no matter what she did. She was able to play the part of a "normal" student, but she always felt ostracized by her fellow classmates. Sara felt that she was different from everybody else. The joy that others derived from gossiping or talking about the latest make-up or break-up didn't interest her at all. The superficial relationships that she saw forming around her appeared forced and unnecessary.
She couldn't do it. It took so much effort for Sara to play along in the social world. She hadn't confided in anyone since she was a child, and learned at an early age that sometimes it's better to keep feelings inside.
She took a long, deep swig of her beer.
Sara forced her thoughts to drift elsewhere, settling on the embarrassing turn of events that had left her analyzing her behavior alone and buzzed on a Friday night. 'You really do have remarkable eyes.' Sara groaned.
Dr. Grissom. He was an attractive man, and brilliant couldn't even begin to describe his intellect. And those eyes – she couldn't help it. He was so mysterious and intriguing. And sexy. Whenever she was in a room with him she could feel her heart racing, and inevitably her skin would become warm and tingly under the weight of his stare.
She had been direct, as usual, and asked him point blank if he was avoiding her. Another piece of evidence to demonstrate your lack of social skills, Sidle. Ultimately she knew that she needed to offer him an apology – he was her professor after all. Well, technically he is a visiting professor, Sara reminded herself. And I am only here for summer classes. Sara shook the thought from her mind. Dr. Grissom had made it clear that he didn't want to be around her – his silence said as much.
She knew that she crossed the line, of that she was sure. She was, however, taken aback by his reaction today. Every part of her believed that he felt the same attraction to her as she did to him. Didn't he?
Sara was startled out of her thoughts by a knock at the door. She didn't remember ordering delivery, and no one would come over without calling first.
"Who is it?"
"It's me, Sara. Gil Grissom."
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"Okay. Thanks for taking the time to talk with me last week – it was very helpful."
He watched her leave the lecture hall quickly, never looking back at him to see his lips attempt the words he longed to tell her.
Grissom felt terrible. Why couldn't he think of something to say? Why did he have to hurt her feelings? He was afraid. He was afraid of losing control. Everything in his life thus far had been meticulously planned and organized. He lived for his books and his work and his Sunday New York Times. They all satisfied him. Before he met her everything in his life had been certain.
Get a hold of yourself, Gil. You just met her.
It didn't matter. Sara Sidle, in a few short weeks, changed everything. The part of him that was closed off now felt vulnerable, exposed. He tried for so long to hide himself away and avoid revealing himself to anyone. In fact, he never really cared to do so. In his minimal experience, Grissom had found people to be superficial and judgmental. The thought of connecting with someone or having a relationship seemed nonessential. There had been a few times when he genuinely enjoyed the company of another, but no one had ever moved him to advance a relationship beyond mere acquaintance.
And now there was Sara. Grissom understood that he barely knew her. The analytical part of his brain kept reminding him that it was mere attraction, a biological response to a beautiful woman. But he couldn't help but feel that it went beyond biology. Of course he was attracted to her, but he had been attracted to many women in the past. With Sara, though, he felt . . . free. He felt that he could say anything to her, tell her his hopes, dreams, and fears, and she would accept him. It was strange to him that his feelings could overwhelm the rational, analytical part of his brain that guided him for so many years. It was strange to him that he could feel this way after spending such a short amount of time with her.
Grissom couldn't rationalize his feelings, and that scared him. He knew that he should go back to his austere apartment and prepare for his next class, and every part of his mind was screaming at him to collect his belongings and head for his car.
Gil, frightened but determined, secured his bag on his shoulder and left the classroom in search of Sara.
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"It's me, Sara. Gil Grissom."
Sara eyed the peephole before letting him in, almost surprised to see his form at her doorstep. Why was he here? She had to admit, he looked amazing in his black collared shirt and jeans, but even his casual appearance didn't make her feel any more at ease.
She opened the door. "Hey, Dr. Grissom." Sara moved to the side so he could enter her apartment, but Grissom lingered in the doorway, a bewildered look on his face. Was he looking for a more blatant invitation? "Come in."
"Just Grissom is fine, Sara." Gil was sweating. He could barely breathe, but he willed himself to stay in the apartment and say what he came to say. Which, unfortunately, he hadn't figured out yet.
"Okay. So, can I get you something? A beer?" Sara hoped he would accept her invitation so she could have an excuse to get another herself. This was going to be interesting.
"Sure, that would be nice." Was he stuttering? And using the word 'nice?' Surely his brain had a capacity for larger adjectives. He just didn't know any at the moment. He couldn't think clearly.
She looked beautiful. He noticed she was wearing what he assumed were her pajamas: a pair of short, lavender cotton shorts, a white tank, and a pair of plastic flip flops. His mouth went dry at the view of so much of her skin. He noticed a small tattoo on her ankle, which only served to draw his attention up the length of her exquisite legs. She was saying something to him, but his brain had difficulty focusing on the words.
"Grissom?" He was staring at her. She knew that she looked disheveled and tired, and hoped that he wasn't put off by the dark circles that had taken permanent residence under her eyes.
"Yes?" He pulled himself together, and took the beer from her outstretched hand.
"I asked how you found my apartment? I'm not listed." Sara was sure he must have gotten her information from her class contact list, but wanted to hear him explain it nonetheless.
"Your information sheet. From class. You listed your address, but not your phone number." Did that sound as stalker-ish to her as it did to him? Damn, it seemed so natural at the time, he thought.
"Oh, yeah." Her theory confirmed, Sara took a moment to observe his reaction to her question. He looked awkward. Then again, she imagined she did as well.
They stood for a moment in silence, Grissom trying to find his words and Sara trying to figure out what he was thinking. She spoke first.
"What are you doing here?" It came out more accusatory and abrasive than she had intended, and she watched as he flinched almost imperceptibly at her words.
"Sara, I, um, wanted to apologize to you for earlier today. You caught me off guard." He took a sip of his cold ale, and tried to slow down his heart rate and breathe normally.
Sara eyed him cautiously. His words seemed sincere, but she had the feeling that he was holding something back. He looked angry, not with her exactly, but with himself. It was at this moment that Sara realized exactly how self-conscious Gil Grissom was. And guarded. He appeared cool and collected most of the time, but Sara surmised that it was a natural defense mechanism. She couldn't help but find this new insight into his character endearing.
She motioned for him to sit in one of her wooden kitchen chairs, and she sat at the opposite end of the table. Sara watched as Grissom fidgeted with his hands nervously after he placed them on the dining table. He took another long swig of his beer, almost emptying the bottle, and Sara knew that he was extremely uncomfortable. She was nervous, mostly because she was uncertain where this was going, but he appeared as though he didn't want to be there. Or, at least, a part of him didn't want to be there.
"Are you normally on guard?" She asked, and watched him fold his arms across his chest. He was definitely on the defensive. He looked as though he were ready for battle, his blue eyes a steely gray and his usual smile more of a grimace than anything else.
"Yes." He admitted. "Sometimes I'm not as articulate as . . ."
"You seem to articulate yourself fine in class," Sara interrupted. Her fourth beer was taking effect and she was becoming bolder. She recognized this, and set the bottle down on the table. He was trying to explain himself to her, but she didn't want him to feel better so easily. Actually, she was interested in getting a rise out of him – maybe if his emotions took over and he just said what he was thinking, it would be better for them both.
"Yes, well that is presenting and teaching information. Facts. When it comes to social settings or, um, less academic topics I am not very… astute."
"Less academic topics? You mean like responding to a woman who tells you that you have beautiful eyes?"
Grissom knew that she was direct, but he felt like he was in an interrogation room with a piercing light shining in his eyes. He thought he would be able to deliver an apology and leave, making himself feel better for the way he treated her. Is that true, Gil? Or did you come here with a different goal in mind? Grissom willed this thought away.
"I would say that topic qualifies, yes." He met her eyes across the table, trying to gauge her reaction. Nothing.
Grissom was conflicted. He knew that whatever part of him brought him here tonight had an agenda beyond apologizing. He wanted to see her. He wanted to talk to her. But now, when it came to actually being here and spending time with her, his social routine was taking over and he was avoiding disclosing any part of his emotional self. He felt like a coward and, as the silence continued, he defaulted to his normal fight or flight response to an anxiety-provoking situation.
"Look Sara, I'm sorry for making you feel as though you were acting inappropriately. I hope we can still be, um, are able to work together in class." There. She would accept his apology, and he could leave. He felt like a coward.
Sara was amused. He wanted to make himself feel better for his behavior, so he came to her house to apologize? Sara wondered if he even realized how ridiculous that sounded. She needed to make a choice. Accept his apology and let him leave, or try to provoke him into telling her why he was really here. Sara was always up for a challenge.
"Dr. Grissom, are you really here to apologize for your behavior today?"
Grissom was confused, and couldn't help becoming increasingly frustrated by the situation. She wasn't supposed to question him, she was supposed to show him the door.
"Sara what . . ."
"I thought you might be apologizing for avoiding me, and then lying about it." Sara watched as Grissom's expression turned from shock to something akin to horror. She would have laughed if circumstances had been different. She smirked instead.
"Sara, I told you, I …"
"Are you attracted to me?" Sara was glad to get the question out in the open, despite the possible ramifications.
Grissom initially thought he misheard her. It wasn't until he waited a few moments and noticed her anticipatory expression that he realized he heard correctly. "Sara…" It was all he could manage to say.
"It's a simple question, 'yes' or 'no.' It doesn't take a lot of articulation."
"It isn't that simple, Sara," Grissom replied, a twinge of irritation in his voice. "You are a student and I am your teacher. Anything else between us would be inappropriate." He needed to leave, to escape this apartment and what he felt was turning into an inquisition. He couldn't have this conversation, and he was becoming more turbulent with each passing second.
"I'll take that as a 'yes.'"
Grissom tried to steady his breathing and calm himself, but with little effect. He needed to let out the many emotions that had taken over his body and mind.
'Yes, Sara, I am attracted to you. But it doesn't change anything. Saying it out loud doesn't make it any more appropriate." He was breathing heavier now, and he imagined his face had reddened with the exertion of admitting something so personal. In that moment he realized he was trying to convince himself with his words, not Sara.
Sara felt triumphant in an odd way; she was relieved that she hadn't been wrong about the attraction being reciprocated. Despite her "triumph," she hadn't gained any ground. He obviously convinced himself that he couldn't be with her. She needed to make a choice: give him an out, or challenge the fact that he "couldn't" be with her. She didn't want to try and persuade him.
"Thank you for being honest, Dr. Grissom. I both appreciate and accept your apology. I also wanted to say that I'm sorry too. I crossed the line, and I hope that things won't be awkward in class."
Sara rose from her chair and headed for the door, signaling to him that it was time for him to go. Here's your out, Grissom. She sighed.
"Sara." Grissom felt a mixture of relief and sorrow. She was letting him off the hook, he knew, but he couldn't let it end like this. He followed her to the door, and waited for her to turn around before he spoke again. "I hope that, I mean, that this doesn't have to, um . . ."
He gazed into her eyes, which revealed both hurt and resignation. What was he doing? Why was he letting this go? Get out of here now, Gil. But I can't leave things this way. I need to tell her . . .
"You're amazing, Sara. You're brilliant and beautiful and…"
"Stop." Sara cut him off. If he wasn't going to leave, she was going to lay everything out on the table.
"Dr. Grissom, you say that whatever attraction we feel is inappropriate. Do you think coming to my home late at night to talk to me is appropriate? You're telling me I am amazing and that you're attracted to me. I haven't known you for very long, but I doubt this is something you do regularly. How can you tell me that this isn't appropriate and then act inappropriately? It's confusing."
Sara knew that she rendered him speechless. He eyes were still fixed on her, a mix of sadness and fear and desire. Sara didn't wait for one emotion to take over.
She leaned into him and pressed her lips softly against his, enjoying the warmth of him for the brief seconds she allowed herself contact. In an instant it was over and she pulled away.
Awkward seconds passed. Sara wanted him to say something or at least have some reaction, but he appeared incapable of either facial expression or speech. Resigned, she opened the door and stepped aside for him to exit.
"Goodnight, Dr. Grissom."
She watched him walk out of her apartment slowly and turn to face her. Sara waited a few more moments for him to speak, but all that greeted her was silence.
She closed the door.