Cath, she stands with a well-intentioned man
But she can't relax with his hand on the small of her back
And as the flashbulbs burst
She holds a smile like someone would hold a crying child

Cath, it seems that you live in someone else's dream
In a hand-me-down wedding dress
Where the things that could have been are repressed
But you said your vows, and you closed the door
On so many men who would have loved you more

And soon everybody will ask what became of you
'Cause your heart was dying fast, and you didn't know what to do

-"Cath..." by Death Cab for Cutie

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 17th

"I fucked up," James groaned into his folded arms.

Dave kept tapping away at his laptop. "Yeah, you sure did, buddy," he said sympathetically.

James lifted his head, still leaning heavily on the counter. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he watched Alexandra Miller, love of his life, accept a date right in front of him. "I was going to ask her out," he said morosely. "Literally half an hour before he did."

"And you choked," Dave said. He leaned around his laptop to check his handwritten notes, then returned to typing. "You chickened out."

James groaned loudly into his hands. "I did," he said. "Just like I've chickened out every other goddamn time the past four years."

"Mm-hm," Dave said absently.

The bell above the door chimed and James straightened up as the customers walked in. "Hi, welcome," he said, trying to plaster a smile on his face. He went through the motions of explaining what was in the case, packaging up their selections, and ringing them up. Thankfully they left, and he immediately went back to slouching at the register. "Dave, is it possible to die from this?"

"You're the pre-med hospital boy, you tell me," Dave said. He paused. "Oh, but that could be a good inspiration for my next short story."

"You can only use it if you let me read it."

"Never mind," Dave sighed.

The door to the back banged open and Jeff walked in, jangling the keys to the delivery van on his fingers. "What's up, my guy?" he said, tossing the keys to James. They hit him in the forehead and clattered to the counter as he winced. "Jesus, Mini. No wonder you quit baseball. Your hand-eye coordination's gone to shit."

"Oh, no, that's just the heartbreak," Dave said.

Jeff raised an eyebrow. "Oh, shit," he said. "Did Alex turn you down?"

"Worse," Dave said.

Jeff's eyebrow raised higher, waiting expectantly for an explanation. "Another guy asked Alex out, and she said yes," James said. Jeff whistled in sympathy.

"Oh, wait, it gets better," Dave said.

James sighed. "He asked her out in front of me," he said.

"Holy shit, Mini," Jeff said. "That fucking sucks." He shook his head. "We've been telling you for years to just ask her out."

"I know!" James said, throwing up his hands in frustration. "I just…I didn't…it never seemed like the right time!"

Jeff grabbed his apron off the hook on the wall. "Kiddo, there's never a perfect time for these kinds of things," he said. "You gotta shit or get off the pot. And in your case…well, I guess somebody just pushed you off."

"That's a terrible simile," Dave said. He paused. "Metaphor?"

"I don't know, I don't read books," Jeff shrugged.

James draped his arms over the counter, his hands dangling off the edge as he stretched like a depressed cat. "What if they go on this date and…and that's it?" he said. "What if they fall in love? What if they end up together forever? What if they get married and-"

"Whoa, whoa, slow your roll," Jeff said. He fastened his chocolate-smeared apron with a crisp snap of the ties, then pulled a hairtie out of his pocket to draw his shoulder-length wavy hair into an untidy bun. "Here's the thing, Mini. You've always been like this. Remember when you were four, and you wouldn't tell your parents what you wanted for Christmas because you had to pick just the right thing, and then you cried till you puked because it turns out you wanted a treehouse and you didn't get one?"

Dave tilted his head back. "Till you puked?" he said, wrinkling his nose.

"You could've left that part out," James grumbled. Jeff was his godfather- he'd been Ned's college roommate, his best man, and his business partner long before he was born- and as such delighted in reminiscing about all of his embarrassing childhood stories. "But yeah, I remember."

Jeff grinned. "You said it was the worst Christmas ever," he said. "And yeah, it was shitty then because you were four and things like that seem like huge deals. But then what did you get for your fifth birthday?"

James sighed. "You and Dad built me a treehouse," he said begrudgingly.

"Uh-huh," Jeff said. "You got the fuckin' best treehouse a kindergartener could dream of. You just had to be honest with us and tell us what you wanted, and you had to be patient."

James raised himself up on his elbows. "But Alex isn't a treehouse," he objected. "And I'm not four."

"You might cry until you puke though," Dave mumbled under his breath. James shot him a dirty look.

"Yeah, she might date this guy," Jeff said. "And you're not gonna be shitty about it, your parents and I didn't raise you to be shitty." He grinned and elbowed him lightly. "But if it fizzles out? You'd best be ready to tell her that you want to build a treehouse."

"Like…metaphorically?" James said.

"Yeah, something like that," Jeff said. "Is that a metaphor, Dave?"

"That's the proper usage, yes."

James dragged his hands through his mussed hair and groaned. If only he could change it. He would go back and ask her out in the library, before John got there. He would go back and ask her out during junior year when he meant to ask her to prom and then ended up not even going at all. He would go back to sophomore year when he meant to ask her to get coffee together and he chickened and brought Dave along with them. He would go back to freshman year, the moment he first saw her, and instead of asking her to help him with his English essay he would tell her that she was beautiful and clever and kind, and that he wanted to spend the rest of his life being pulled into her orbit.

"If I get a chance," he said. "Just one more chance, I swear I'll…I won't mess it up. I'll do it right this time."

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 18th

"Jayje, come on," Derek said. "We're going to be late!"

He bounced from foot to foot impatiently, the strap of his football bag jumping on his shoulders as he waited for her to catch up. "We've got plenty of time," she said crossly.

"Yeah, but I want to get there early," he said.

JJ sighed heavily as she caught up to him, her thumbs tucked under the straps of her backpack. "There's no reason, you know," she said. "It's the weekend and I really don't want to waste my weekend on this. And attendance isn't even mandatory for this meeting, we're going to get an email about it in like an hour."

"Come on, Jennifer, you're really not excited about this at all?" Derek said.

"No. This is going to be insanely boring."

"But the homecoming games are always a huge deal. Plus it means the season is almost over and we'll be heading into playoffs soon."

JJ scowled. "You know it's weird to have homecoming this late, right?" she said. "My…in normal high schools back home they have homecoming in like, September."

"Since when has St. Thaddeus ever been a normal school?" he shrugged. "Homecoming weekend around here is always after midterms. It's midterms, Halloween, Homecoming, football championships, Thanksgiving. Boom." He grinned. "And then it's time for basketball season. What's your winter sport gonna be?"

"I don't know," she said, trudging along beside him as they made their way down to the gym. "I hadn't really thought about it."

"Volleyball, maybe?" he suggested. "I could see you as a volleyball girl. Ooh, or cross country? I've seen you running laps for practice, you're crazy fast. I'm sure they'd-"

"I don't want to do sports after this, Derek," she interrupted. "I just want to survive soccer, okay?"

He was taken aback, both by the statement and the way she spat it out. For a while he fell silent, falling in step behind her.

"Are…are you just like, really attached to soccer?" he ventured. "Because I mean, I get it. I love football a hell of a lot more than basketball, I just do it to keep busy and stay conditioned. Doing something else could keep you busy until soccer starts up again, and if you wanted we could go down to the field when you want so you can run drills and stuff. That way next season-"

"Derek, can you just stop?" JJ snapped. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and stared at her in shock. "Some of aren't as obsessed with their sports as you are. I know you eat, sleep, and dream football, I know being quarterback is the most important thing that's ever happened to you, but for me soccer is…it's just…"

She bit her lip and stamped her foot in frustration, clearly searching for the right words. Derek's stomach tightened. JJ never lost her temper like this, never lashed out so sharply. She was clearly flustered, unable to find an explanation to give him.

"I only joined the soccer team because-" she started to say, and then she turned her head away from him, staring stubbornly at a tree that last week had been lush and green and had now turned blazing orange and red with the onset of fall. She pressed her mouth together in a tight thin line, her lips turning white.

I think she's hiding something, he thought, and it surprised him. JJ had never struck him as one for secrets. If anything she was one of the most even-tempered of the group, her likes and her dislikes and her wants laid out like an open book. He couldn't imagine what she was hiding, but the last thing he wanted was to force it out of her.

"Hey," he said. "Hey, don't…don't worry about it. Any of it. I won't ask about it again, and…if you don't want to go to the meeting, it's cool." He nudged her shoulder lightly, smiling at her and trying to get her to look in his direction. "Besides, you're right. It's gonna be boring as hell and they'll send all the info in an email anyways."

She finally met his gaze, the faintest ghost of a smile pulling on her lips. "You're sure?" she said.

"Positive," he said. He checked his phone. "Penny was just about to head over to the Honeybean, I bet if you hurry you could catch her."

Now JJ was actually smiling, the corners of her eyes crinkling so he knew it was genuine. "Well, you did say I'm pretty fast," she said, and she turned on her heel, jogging down the sidewalk as if she both wanted to show off and also wanted to escape this situation as quickly as she could.

Derek shook his head. He didn't have time to unpack any of that, but hopefully she'd open up to Penelope or Emily or somebody soon. But if she wanted to talk to him, he'd be ready for that too.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 19th

"Aaron, could I see you before I leave?"

Hotch stared at Penelope in wild panic. "What do I do?" he hissed.

"Go talk to the director," she hissed back.

He made a half strangled frustrated screech in the back of his throat. His first theatre rehearsal had been…well, it hadn't been horrible, but he wasn't going to win a Tony any time soon. It was fun, he guessed, and more fun when he got to sit next to Haley while the cast did what Penelope called a "read through," but…how had he managed to get in trouble so fast?

Haley smiled at him and squeezed his arm. "Go on, we'll wait for you outside," she said.

His stomach twisted in his knots. That pesky recurring bout of Lyme disease was back in full force.

He dragged himself over to the theatre teacher. Mrs. Hudson was flicking through a stack of photocopied sheet music, frowning to herself. "Hi," he said. "I'm sorry if I did badly, I've never done a musical before, this was my first rehearsal…if you want me to quit I understand."

"Oh!" she said. "Oh, god, please don't quit." She pushed her glasses to the top of her head. "Actually, I was going to ask you the exact opposite. Aaron, how would you feel about being an understudy?"

He shifted his weight uncomfortably. This was not what he had been expecting.

"So I would learn one of the larger roles, right?" he said. His only knowledge of understudies had been what he'd learned from Haley.

"Right," she said. "Exactly. As a backup, in case something happens. I've been in theatre my whole life and trust me, nothing is more terrifying than having to scramble to rehearse a role at the last possible second. There was one time when I was in Carrie the Musical and I was understudying for Chris, and then a month before opening I had to understudy Margaret, and then then a week before opening I had to learn the Helen track-"

He had never been so confused in his life. "Carrie, like the girl who got the pig's blood dumped on her?" he said, bewildered. "That's a musical?"

Mrs. H waved her hand dismissively. "Oh my god, sorry, my brain is literally soup right now, I can't stay focused," she said. She took a deep breath. "Understudies. Yes. I really need a male lead understudy, just in case. You might not have to go on at all, but you'd be there just in case something happened and we need someone to play Sammy."

His jaw dropped open. "Sammy?" he echoed. "That's…that's a really big part, right?"

"He's a lead, yeah," she said. "Not Robbie, not the main lead, but…yeah, it's a big part. I know it's a lot, but you really are a natural. You've got a nice voice, you can move…enough, and I saw you taking notes, I think you can handle it. You don't even have to play the bass guitar, you can just pantomime and someone in the orchestra can play."

"I play the guitar, actually," he blurted out. God, he really needed to stop while he was behind.

Mrs. H threw her hands up in the air. "Oh my god! Yes!" she said. "See, you'd be fantastic. You can play the guitar, you're responsible, you can carry a tune. And you have great chemistry with Haley. I don't know about the others, but I know you can work with her."

It would probably be the wrong move to throw up on her shoes. "With Haley?" he echoed.

"She's the Julia understudy," Mrs. H explained. "You'll be working with the rest of the understudies a lot, and I know she can help you out. Listen, you don't have to make a decision right this second. Take some time to mull it over. But let me know by the end of next week, if you can?"

"Uh…yeah," he said. "Yeah, I can…I can mull it over."

"Amazing," she said. She checked the time on her phone. "It's almost curfew, you'd better head back to your dorm. See you tomorrow, okay?"

"Okay," he said. "Um…thanks."

He gathered up his bag and hurried out of the theater. Haley and Penelope were waiting for him expectantly. "Well?" Penelope said, bouncing on her toes.

"Mrs. H wants me to think about being the Sammy understudy," he said.

Penelope stopped dead in her tracks and squealed. "Oh my god!" she said. "Oh my god, that's amazing! You said yes, right? You should say yes! You'd be so good!"

"She told me I could think about it," Hotch said. "I don't know. I've never done anything like this before, it's…it's a lot."

Haley grabbed his hand. "Oh, please think about it," she begged. "Penny's right, you'd be so good. And I'll help you! I'll help you learn all of your lines and your blocking and everything."

"I don't…I don't know, I've got to think about it," he said. "I'm already really out of my depth here. I don't know if taking on more would be a good idea."

Haley smiled at him. She was still holding his hand and he hoped to God that his palm wasn't sweating as much as he thought. "That's fair, but just know that I think you'll be great," she said.

He bit back a heavy sigh. Out of his depth was putting it mildly. More like somewhere in the Marianas Trench was more apt. "We ought to head back, it's almost curfew," Penelope said, checking her phone.

Hotch turned to Haley. "Hey, do you think you could sneak me into Roosevelt?" he blurted out. "Nothing weird. I just need to get in there for a few minutes."

To her credit, she didn't bat an eye. "Sure," she said.

He paused. "Wait, Penelope, I'll walk you back…"

"No, no, I'll be fine," she said, waving her hand dismissively. "I can walk back myself, I'm not worried about. You go with Haley."

He didn't miss her smug grin. Oh, she's going to ask me about this later, he thought, suddenly regretting it.

Haley finally let go of his hand and adjusted her music binder from one arm to the other. "Come on, let's go," she said.

Roosevelt House wasn't very far from the theater, much closer to the center of campus. He kept his naturally quick long strides in pace with Haley's. Think of something, he thought. You can't just walk in silence.

"So what did you think of your first rehearsal?" she asked.

"It's a lot," he confessed. "Is it always this…this intense?"

She laughed. "Oh, I've got bad news for you, honey. This is nothing. Just wait till tech week."

The affectionate pet name made the back of his neck heat up, but he wasn't sure if she'd even meant to say it. "I'll have to brace myself, I guess," he said dryly. "I have a feeling this'll be my first and my last musical. At least it'll look good on my resume."

"I don't know, maybe you'll be addicted to theatre after this," she said. "It's a slippery slope. First you do one musical, then you're googling the cost of LaDucas and changing your major." She nudged his arm playfully. "What do you want to major in?"

"Pre-law," he said.

"Oh, that's so cool," she said. "I can see you as a fancy lawyer. Very Emmett Forrest of you."

"Who?"

"Never mind, different musical," she said. "What kind of law?"

He was quiet for a moment, trying to decide if he wanted to explain that part. "Family law," he said finally. "I want to, uh…to help kids stuck in shitty situations."

"You'll be really good at that," she said. "Maybe you shouldn't switch to being a musical theatre major."

She led him around to the back of Roosevelt House and leaned her shoulder against the back door until the latch popped. "Nobody really knows about this," she whispered. "Don't tell anyone."

He grinned. "Your secret's safe from me," he whispered back.

She led him inside and quickly closed the door behind them. "This is the back stairwell, almost nobody ever uses it," she said. "Do you know which floor you're going to?"

"Sixth, I think," he said. "Unless…do you happen to know which floor Alex Miller's room is on?"

"Oh! Your sister!" Haley said.

"She's not my-"

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure she's on six," Haley said. She squeezed his forearm. "I'll see you at rehearsal tomorrow, okay? And think about it. I think you'd be great."

"I…I will, I promise," he said.

She flitted away, and he started climbing up the back stairs. "Why does everyone think we're twins?" he mumbled under his breath.

He opened the door that led to the sixth floor and almost immediately ran into a girl in Hello Kitty print sleep shorts and a hot pink tank top. "Wrong floor, my guy," she said. "This is a girls' floor." Her eyes narrowed. "And do you even live in Roosevelt?"

"I'm so sorry, I promise I'm not doing anything weird," he said hastily. The girl tapped her fingers impatiently on her crossed arms. "I'm just…here to see my sister really quick?"

"Who's your sister?" she asked skeptically.

"Alex Miller," he said.

"Oh, yeah, I heard she had a twin," she said. "Yeah, she's down there, room 612. Just get out of here quick, all right?"

"I promise, thanks," he said, and he hurried down the hall.

He had been hoping that Emily wouldn't answer the door when he knocked, but no such luck. "Well hello, Hotchner," she said, leaning casually against the doorframe. "I never thought you'd show up at my door."

"I'm not here for you, where's Alex?" he asked.

Emily sighed heavily. "No one's ever here to see me," she said. She opened the door the rest of the way. "Alexandra, it's for you."

Alex was sitting on her bed, dressed in pink striped pajamas and her hair knotted in a loose bun at the crown of her head. "What's wrong?" she asked. "Is Spencer okay?"

"He's fine," he said. He picked his way around Emily's clutter on her side of the room and sat down on the edge of Alex's bed. "I need your advice."

Alex closed her Russian textbook. "Uh-oh," she said. "What's going on?"

He sighed heavily. "So you know how I got roped into the school musical?"

Emily flopped down on her unmade bed. "Yes, and I can't wait to see you dance," she said.

He shot her a dirty look. "I'm here for Alex's advice and not your commentary, thank you very much," he said. He turned back to Alex. "Well, they want me to be an understudy."

"Really? That's great!" she said. "That sounds like fun."

"I don't know," he hedged. "I've already got so much going on, and midterms are coming up so soon, and I'm not much of a singer and definitely not a dancer-"

"But would it be fun?" Alex asked.

He looked down at his hands. "I'd be able to spend more time with Haley," he mumbled.

"Oh my god, do it," Emily said. "Sorry! Sorry, I know I'm eavesdropping, but you're literally right there. But you should do it."

"I don't think that's enough reason-" he said.

"You don't need a reason!" Emily said, throwing up her hands in frustration. "God, you two just need to live a little! Just do it, Hotch. It'll be fun and you can bat your eyes at cute little Haley Brooks."

Hotch looked at Alex in desperation. "She has a point," Alex admitted.

"Ooh, can you say that one more time?" Emily teased. "Hell yeah I have a point. And besides, look at Alex. I helped convince her to lighten up, and now she's going on her very first real date this weekend."

Hotch made a face despite himself. It would have been different if Alex was going on a date with James, but she was going out with some rando who had talked to her in the library a maximum of three times. It felt wrong. He had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach every time he thought about it.

"This isn't about me, this is about Hotch," Alex said, her face turning as pink as the stripes on her pajamas. She squeezed his knee. "Look, if you have some time to think about it, then you really ought to consider it. It might be fun, and you'll spend time with Haley and maybe make some new friends and some new skills. And it'll look good on your college applications."

"Yeah, that's what I said," he said, then exhaled slowly. "I'll…I'll think about it."

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 20th

JJ tugged on the hem of her jacket. There was no way anyone would possibly know what she was up to, but she still didn't want anyone to stop her and ask too many questions.

She let herself into the gym and walked quickly down the hall, her head down. Some of the girls from the team were doing conditioning work; she could hear their voices over the sound of clanking weight machines and loud pop music.

Please don't let them see me, she thought fervently.

She speedwalked towards the dance studio, double checking the reservation schedule on the door. There was no chance she'd messed up, but still, the last thing she wanted to do was make this more awkward than it already was. But no, she could see the list clearly- 3:30-4:40, A. Miller.

She burst into the dance studio without knocking first, startling Alex. "JJ, holy shit," she said. "That scared me." She was sitting on the floor tying up her pointe shoes; the surprise had made her mess up and she unlaced the pink satin ribbons to try again. "Are you okay? Is something wrong?"

JJ paused and the speech she'd carefully practiced in the shower over the past few days died on her lips. "Is your offer still good?" she blurted out. "To help me with dance?"

Alex paused. "Yes, of course it is," she said slowly. "Right now might not be a great time though, darling. I'm trying to work on my variation for my jury performance."

The elation building in her chest fizzled like water thrown over a campfire. "Oh," she said. "Oh, god. Yeah, that makes sense. I'm…I'm sorry, I don't want to bother you."

"No, no, it's okay," Alex said hastily. She pushed herself up off the floor; standing flat-footed in her pointe shoes made her look more clumsy than ethereal. "Here, do you want to do some barre work with me? I could probably do a little more warming up."

"Are you sure?" JJ said. "I didn't realize until literally just now how much of a jerk I was being just showing up here. It just…seemed like a really good idea at the time."

Alex smiled. "Don't worry about it," she said. "Do you have the right shoes?"

"Not really," JJ confessed. "I didn't bring anything with me. I kind of quit ballet a few years ago. I just…I hadn't realized how much I missed it until recently."

"Well, don't worry about it, you can do it in your socks for now," Alex said. "But you should probably get the right shoes before you try doing center work."

JJ eagerly unzipped her jacket, tossing it aside, and kicked off her sneakers. Her neon pink tank top and black Nike shorts seemed woefully childish and out of place compared to Alex's sleek leotard, but she shoved the rising embarrassment down. Alex wouldn't judge her, and anyways she'd rather be doing ballet dressed like then running soccer drills in the fanciest uniform possible.

"We'll do some barre for a bit, see what you remember, and then I'm going to start running my variation," Alex said. She grinned at her. "I'm glad you stopped by, I could use an outsider's opinion on how I'm doing."

JJ grinned back at her and took a spot next to her at the barre. Her hand touched the polished wood, and it felt as natural as breathing.

This is what I should have been doing all along, she thought.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 21st

Spencer resisted the urge to lean his head down on his folded arms. He was so tired. But he couldn't sleep, not now.

The library wasn't as calm as it usually was. With midterms rapidly approaching along with the due dates for projects and papers, their space had been invaded with other students looking for books and a quiet place to work. He was too aware of the presence of strangers, hyperaware of their conversations and their habits and their actions. It made the skin on the back of his neck crawl.

Even his friends were making him anxious. Penelope kept cracking her gum, and Dave was humming tunelessly under his breath, and JJ kept biting her nails. His heart was thumping hard in his chest, the sensory overload threatening to drown him completely.

Deep down, though, he knew that he wasn't just feeling so terrible from the irritation of his surroundings or the lack of sleep or even the impending gloom and doom of midterms and his terror of failing them. He'd been thinking it for the past two weeks.

You need to tell Alex. Alex needs to know.

Spencer glanced over at Hotch. He was hard at work on his history study guide, making a note in his smooth angular script with a blue ballpoint pen. You told him, he thought. You told him, and nothing bad happened. Hotch hadn't even mentioned it directly since he told him, he was just even kinder and more patient with him than before.

Ethan had told him over and over again that when he made it to St. Thaddeus that he could never tell anyone where he came from or how he got there. That if the school found out they would pack him up and ship him back to Las Vegas and the group home before he could blink. And he couldn't go back there, he couldn't. He would rather die.

But he could also feel the pressure building like a shaken soda can. Telling Hotch had helped, but it wasn't enough. The secrets were rotting him from the inside out. At night he dreamed about the group home and his mother and the goalpost and the day he was taken away, all mixed up in confusing nightmares that left him drenched with sweat and shaking and too terrified to go back to sleep, until he got so exhausted that his body gave in despite himself and the vicious cycle of night terrors started up again.

He slid down from his seat. "Where're you going?" Hotch asked.

Spencer hesitated. "I want to talk to Alex," he said.

"Not now, kid, she's really busy and she said not to come see her unless it was really important," he said, looking up from his study guide. "What's wrong? Do you want me to help you?"

He shook his head. "No, it has to be Alex," he insisted.

"Kiddo-"

He felt like he was going to throw up. "I need to talk to her," he said, his voice rising. "Right now. It's really important."

The other kids had paused to look at him and he couldn't bear it. "Okay, okay," Hotch said. "You can go talk to her, Bug. Just really quick. Do you want me to go with you?"

He shook his head and ran, leaving his schoolwork behind. The student working behind the desk shot him a weird look as he ducked past, but he darted over to the office door and knocked hard.

"Sorry, I'm busy," Alex called.

"Please, Alex?" he begged. "Hotch said I could. Really quick."

Alex opened the door. Her mascara was smudged under her tired eyes and there was a pen behind her ear. "What's wrong, darling, are you sick?" he asked.

He shook his head. "I have to…I have to talk to you," he said.

"About what?" she said. "Can Aaron help you? Are you sick?"

He shook his head again, and the panic had to have been written all over his face because she quickly ushered him into her office, and closed the door behind them. "It's okay, I've got you," she said as she sat down at her desk. "I've got you, darling."

He buried his face in her shoulder. The sensory overload was subsiding in the thick quiet of the library office; he closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of old paper and Alex's perfume. "Were you just getting stressed out?" she asked. "That's okay, you can always come sit with me when you get stressed out."

"It's not that," he said. "Not exactly. It's…it's…" He took a deep breath, unconsciously rubbing his cheek against her collarbone. "I have to tell you something."

She ran her hand over his hair. "That sounds like a serious something," she said. "Go ahead, take your time."

He took a deep breath. He hadn't been prepared when he told Hotch, that had been a spur of the moment kind of thing. Impulsive. Not how he usually did things. But he'd been mentally preparing for this for ages, rehearsing his speech in the shower and while he was trying to not fall asleep.

He told her everything, quiet and hesitant at first. She said nothing, just listened, and her hand stroked up and down his back, rhythmic and soothing. Soon his words were spilling out faster, almost too fast, until he was physically shaking. Alex still said nothing, and he couldn't see her face, and when he finally stopped, gulping for air like he'd just run a marathon, he was almost terrified to look at her.

She stayed quiet for a long minute.

"Oh, Jesus, Spencer," she finally sighed. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

He hadn't cried so far but he wrapped his arms around her neck as a hot tear spilled over his cheek. Alex kissed the top of his head. "That explains so much," she said, half to herself. "Why you didn't bring anything with you to school, why you're so stressed, why you…" Her voice trailed off. "Oh, poor baby."

"You won't tell, right?" he begged. "I wasn't supposed to tell anybody."

"No, no, of course not," she said. "I promise. I promise I won't tell anybody."

The office door opened. "Alex, do you have snacks in here?" Derek asked.

"No, Derek, not right now," she said. "We'll be going to dinner soon."

"Yeah, but I'ms starving," he objected. "Can't I-" He paused at the look on Alex's face. "Yeah, I can wait until dinner."

"Close the door behind you, please," she said. She exhaled deeply. "No, Spencer, I promise I won't tell anybody." She kissed his forehead. "Does anybody else know?"

"Just Hotch," he said. "I didn't mean to tell him, though. It just…happened."

"You really were going to keep this a secret," she said. She shifted him on her lap so she could look him in the eyes; she was smiling but there was a little tremble in her lips. "No more secrets, Spencer Reid. Understand? Not anymore."

"Yes, ma'am," he said meekly. "I won't."

Alex brushed a tear off his cheek. "And whenever you want to talk about this again, if there's something you want to tell us more details about or something that's bothering you, you just tell Hotch or I that you need to talk, okay? And we will."

He nodded, but before he could say anything else the door opened again. "Alex, oh my god, I have to tell you this," Dave said as he barged in, balancing his open laptop on his palm. "So in Strauss's class, right, there was-"

"These are not open office hours, Dave!" Alex said.

"Well, you let Spencer come in here," he objected.

"Well, he knocked politely and asked if he could come in and I gave him permission," Alex said. "Go on, shoo, you can tell me later."

"Fine, I'll tell Penelope all about it, she always appreciates my Strauss stories," he groused.

He closed the door and she shook her head. "Fucking Dave," she said, and even though his throat felt like there was a lump choking his throat and there were still tears threatening to spill down his cheeks he giggled despite himself.

"You swore," he said.

"Yeah, you think that's funny?" she teased. He nodded, grinning at her. "I could give Emily a run for her money, you know. I can swear in a dozen languages if I felt like it."

"It's funny when you swear," he said.

Alex laughed and kissed his cheek. "I don't think I've seen you smile since we left the Blakes' house," she said. She brushed his hair back from his forehead. "We'll take care of you, you know. You don't have to worry anymore. Aaron and I will take care of you, and so will the other kids, and so will Ned and Charlie."

A spike of worry made his stomach twist. "What if I fail my midterms?" he said. "If I fail I'll lose my scholarship and they'll expell me and then they'll send me back."

"That won't happen, darling," she said firmly. "I promise it won't. We'll get you through midterms just fine." She ran her fingers through his short tangled curls again. "Right now let's go get dinner, though, okay? It's just about time and I think dinner will help."

Spencer nodded and slid down from her lap. Alex cleaned up her desk and switched off her lamp before holding out her hand to him. All of the itching overload from earlier was long since gone, and he felt more like himself now, less like a shaken up soda can.

They walked back over to their table; the other kids were starting to pack up their bags. James smiled at them as they walked over. "Spencer, I got your backpack for you," he said. "You okay? Are you feeling sick?"

"I'm okay, thank you," he said.

JJ stretched her arms above her head. "God, I'm tired," she yawned. "We should do something fun this weekend, take a break from all this studying before our brains dissolve."

Penelope brightened. "Oh, we should work on our Halloween costumes," she said. "It's coming up so soon, and I have so many plans for the school dance."

"It's not really a dance, it's just a party," James said.

She waved her hand. "Semantics," she said. "Hotch and I don't have rehearsal, everybody should come over to the common room on Friday night and I can give my presentation."

Derek choked. "A presentation?"

"Oh, I can't make it Friday night, could we do Saturday?" Alex asked. There was a forced casual note in her voice, and she wasn't making eye contact with anyone as she helped Spencer get his jacket on.

"Ooh, yes, someone has a hot date on Friday night," Dave teased.

Spencer looked up and immediately caught the crestfallen expression on James's face. He looked so sad, and sad was not usually the first thing that came to mind when he thought of James. "We can talk about Halloween on Saturday," Alex said firmly. "For now let's go to dinner, I'm starving."

Spencer took Alex's hand. They trailed behind the others out of the library, and Hotch slowed his steps to join them. "Everything all right?" he asked quietly as they walked down the hall.

"I told her," Spencer said. "About…about everything."

"You did?" Hotch asked.

Spencer nodded. "About…about my mom, and the group home, and running away," he said. "Everything."

Hotch didn't say anything. He took Spencer's other hand and squeezed gently. And that was all he needed, really. Words didn't mean nearly as much having Hotch on one side and Alex on the other, holding his hands and walking with him. That meant more.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 22nd

"Emily, we really don't have to do this," Alex protested.

"Nope, nope, you get no say in the matter," Emily said. "We're going to have fun, because going on your first big date is fun."

Penelope clapped her hands. "This is just like a romcom!" she said.

"Okay, focus, everybody," Emily said. "We're each going to pick an outfit, including shoes. Alex, you're allowed to suggest hair accessories and jewelry."

"Oh, gee, thanks," Alex said sarcastically.

Emily steered her to sit on her bed and pushed her down lightly on the shoulders. "You sit here and try not to spy," she said. "Once we have everything picked out, then you can give your verdict."

"Guys, seriously, you're not going to change my mind," Alex said as she hugged one of her pillows to her chest. "I'm just going to wear my black dress, the one with the-"

"No, god, that's so boring," JJ interrupted.

"You can't wear a black dress, you need something with more personality," Penelope said. "Something that screams…classic cottagecore wood nymph."

"None of those words go together," Alex said.

"It doesn't have to, it's just a vibe. Romantic, but with leaves in your hair."

Emily pulled a black and mustard yellow checked babydoll dress out of the closet and frowned. "But not this, this is not the vibe," she said. "This doesn't really say 'romantic leaves' as much as it says 'tablecloth from 1897'."

Alex frowned. "I like that dress."

Emily shoved it back on the rail and flicked through Alex's side of the closet. "If all else fails, maybe we can grab something from my side of the closet," she said. "I wish we'd had time to take you shopping. We could have gone on Sunday."

"I had stuff to do," Alex said.

Emily rolled her eyes. They shared a room, she knew Alex didn't have anything that important to do that day. But picking out a new dress for her first date hadn't seemed to make her excited at all when Emily suggested it to her. If anything, reminding her about the date over the course of the week just seemed to make her uncomfortable.

The three of them sorted through Alex's clothes. JJ picked out a dress, while Penelope grabbed a skirt and searched through her drawers for a suitable top to go with it. Emily kept looking. Nothing was screaming "first date," more like "librarian who lives in a hollow log in the forest."

She ended up scanning through her own clothes. Most of the things she wore regularly were in drawers or scattered around the floor; the closet held the pieces her mother had purchased and sent along with her. Maybe there was something-

"Aha!" she said, pulling out a dress and whipping it behind her back to keep it hidden. "Okay, okay, I'm ready."

"I think she'll pick mine, though," Penelope said.

"No, wait, let me go first," JJ said. She carted her armload of clothes to the center of the dorm room to plead her case. "Okay, so this is the dress I picked."

"Oh, JJ, that's pretty, but I don't think that's warm enough," Alex said. "Not for late October at nighttime."

JJ held up a tiered maxi dress with spaghetti straps and a delicate cream and pink floral print. "Yeah, I know, I know, which is why I grabbed this," she said, wrestling with the hangers. "A cardigan, you love cardigans."

"I do, but-"

JJ set the dress and the chunky ivory knit cardigan down on Emily's bed, then picked up a pair of T-strap brown mary janes. "And then these," she said. "What do you think?"

"That's cute, but it's not first date cute," Penelope said. She dangled the hangers off her arm. "I was thinking this green lace skirt, and this white top, and then that really cute navy jacket you have, the ruffly one. And the taupe floral boots."

"That's not giving wood nymph," JJ scoffed.

"Neither is yours!" Penelope retorted.

"Listen, I don't even know what a wood nymph is, but I think she's going to pick mine," Emily said. "Out of my way, little ladies."

She held her dress. "I know, I know, it's not one of your things, but I promise, I've never worn it," Emily said. "Tags still on, see?"

Alex shifted from sitting to kneel on the bed, reaching out to touch the fabric. It really was a pretty dress, a deep wine red velvet with a gentle sweetheart neckline and buttons down the front, softly puffed sleeves, and a skirt cut generously without being too heavy. "Oh," she said softly. "Oh, that's pretty."

"Just picture it with heels and tights," Emily said. "Maybe a necklace."

Alex hesitated. "Let's not kid ourselves, that's the best one," Penelope said. "It's perfect."

"You're sure I can borrow it?" Alex said.

"You can keep it," Emily said. "My mom bought it for me, she bought like a dozen dresses that I'll never wear. You know what I like, and this isn't it." She bounced the hanger lightly, making the dress swing. "So? Are you saying yes to the dress?"

Alex sighed. "I'm not doing that, but yes, I'll wear the dress," she said.

"Good, I like that one the best," JJ said.

Emily draped it over her bed; Penelope scrambled to hang it up on the hook on the back of the door. "Now that that's settled," she said. "Hair and makeup. What are you thinking?"

"Well, maybe-"

"It has to be down," Penelope declared. "Ooh, have you straightened it before? Maybe you should straighten it and just wear a headband."

"I do have quite a few headbands," Alex admitted.

Emily picked up an armful of makeup off her dresser and dropped it on her bed. "That'll work," she said. "I'm more concerned about makeup. You've got to match the aesthetic of the dress."

Alex winced. "I don't know…"

"Just trust me," Emily said. "If there's anything I know, it's makeup." She dug out an eyeshadow palette and a couple of brushes. "We'll just play around a bit."

The younger girls sat down on Emily's bed, watching her work. "I wish I was going on my first date," Penelope sighed.

"You're thirteen, darling, there's time for that," Alex said.

"Hold still," Emily chided, cupping her face in her hand. "That's not too young, though, I went on my first date at thirteen."

"Really?" JJ said. "Your mom let you date that young? My mom said not until I'm sixteen."

"Well, she didn't exactly know about it, but my nanny didn't mind," Emily said. "I was too old for a nanny anyway. Close your eyes, Alex."

"What was it like?" Penelope said. She laid down on her stomach, her legs kicking up behind her. "Your first date. What was it like?"

"Well, it was when I was living in Italy," Emily said absently as she brushed shadow over Alex's lids. "It wasn't that fancy. We went to the opera and got gelato before the show. It was practically educational."

"You went to the opera?"

"My mom was going to take me and then something came up, so she told me to bring a friend," Emily shrugged. "I just didn't tell her I brought a boy." She took a step back, eyed her handiwork, and dabbed a shimmery shade onto the brush. "I don't really count that as a date, though, we barely even kissed. It was just a peck. My real first date though, I was fourteen."

"Fourteen is still very young," Alex warned.

"Hold still, Alexandra. I was fourteen, and we went to this like teen dance club in the city, and then we went to a cafe that was still open at midnight and got pasta," Emily said. "And then when we were waiting for a cab he kissed me."

"Oh, that's so romantic," Penelope sighed. "And that was your first kiss?"

Emily smiled at the memory. Technically it wasn't her first kiss, more like eighth or ninth, but it was the first one that counted. The first time she'd kissed Matthew. "Yeah," she said. "And it was perfect."

"God, I'm so nervous about my first kiss," Penelope said. "What if I turn my head wrong? What if our teeth click? What if my lipstick smears?"

"I don't think it'll be that big of a deal," JJ said."It's just a kiss. Right?"

Emily picked up a black eyeliner. "Right," she said. "Definitely not a big deal."

That was directed more towards Alex. It still surprised her that her best friend had still never been properly kissed, and it was kind of depressing that her first kiss probably wasn't going to be with James, but at least kissing this John guy would get it out of the way. "Emily, will you get me ready for my first date too?" Penelope asked.

"Sure, kiddo," Emily said. She traced black liquid liner along Alex's lashline. "Seriously, Alex, hold still." She tilted her chin this way and that, making sure the wings were even. "I'll do you hair and makeup and help you pick your outfit."

"God, I'm so nervous and it's not even my date," Penelope sighed.

"It's not going to be that big of a deal," Alex said.

"Open your eyes and hold still or I'll stab you in the eyeball with this mascara," Emily said. "It's kind of a big deal, Alex. You're allowed to think it's a big deal."

Alex huffed. "It's just dinner and a movie with a guy from my class," she said. "It's not like he's proposing or anything."

"Oh, but what if he does someday?" Penelope said dreamily. "Maybe you'll go on this date and that's it. Maybe you'll fall in love and be together forever and get married-"

"It's just dinner and a movie!" Alex protested. "It's not a lifetime commitment."

"No, but you'll have a boyfriend at least," JJ said. "And that's pretty cool."

Emily sorted through her lipsticks. "He doesn't have to be her boyfriend," she said. "You can go on a date with a guy and have it not be serious. It's not that deep." She uncapped a lipstick and grinned in satisfaction. "Yeah, that's the right color. Do this for me, Alex."

She made a face and Alex copied her, and she carefully applied the lipstick. "Yeah, it doesn't have to be that serious," Penelope said. "If it doesn't work out, there's always plenty of other guys you could go out with. Maybe you could even go out with Ja-"

"All done," Emily announced. She picked up a hand mirror and held it out. "What do you think? It'll be better with everything done, but I figured the eyes and lip color were the most important things to test out."

Alex's eyes widened. "I look completely different," she said. "I never do my makeup like this."

The smoked out eyesdadow and sharply defined eyeliner was definitely different, and the lipstick was a darker tone than her usual reds or rosy pinks, but it looked good on her. "You look great," Emily said.

"I think we've strayed a bit from the wood nymph vibes, but you look amazing," Penelope said. "Oh, I can't wait to hear how your date goes!"

"Yeah, me too," Emily said.

She watched Alex survey her new look in the mirror. Part of her wanted Alex to have the best time imaginable. Part of her hoped it would fizzle out, not enough to hurt her but just enough to send her running into James's arms.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 23rd

Alex kept her hands in the pockets of her jacket as she walked towards the parking lot. It was a cool night, it wasn't cold especially since the sun hadn't quite set yet, but she somehow felt safer with it on. She couldn't think of anything to say, but luckily that didn't seem to bother John. He kept up a steady stream of cheerful one-sided dialogue, mostly about his new car. If he noticed she wasn't saying much, he didn't let on.

"There she is!" he said cheerfully. "See? I told you it was great."

It's a car, Alex thought blankly. Out loud, though, she just said "oh wow, you're right, it's amazing."

She didn't understand much of his talk about the engine or the difference between this year's model and last year's like he was describing with so much enthusiasm, but it did seem nice, the silver exterior shiny and polished and the leather interior new and sharp-smelling. John also opened the passenger door for her, which she wasn't expecting. She smiled at him and slid into the seat, hoping she didn't look as awkward as she felt.

Riding in other people's cars always made her feel uncomfortable. She buckled her seatbelt and sat with her hands knotted primly on her lap. John got into the driver's seat, adjusting the mirrors precisely before turning the key in the ignition. "God, I've been waiting for a new car for ages," he said. "My dad was making me drive his old 2019 Honda. I was so sick of it." He looked over at her and grinned. "So I have a restaurant in mind for dinner. Unless there's someplace you'd like to go?"

"No, no, I'm fine with whatever," she said.

"Oh, good, because I think you'll really like this place," John said. He fiddled with his phone, turning on a Spotify playlist, and shifted into drive. "GPS says we'll be there in forty minutes, I bet I could get there in thirty."

John's driving made her nervous. It took everything in her not to grip the passenger door handle. Be polite, she told herself firmly. Relax. It'll be fine.

She looked straight ahead through the windshield, watching the road roll by. John continued to chat pleasantly as he drove, but she couldn't get out more than short replies. Jesus Christ, Miller, relax! she thought. Why can't you talk? You can always find things to talk about.

Well, she didn't know much about cars, and at the moment all John seemed to want to talk about was torque and precision. He seemed perfectly fine with her noncommittal responses and mild "oh wow"s and "that's wild"s.

It'll be better at dinner, she told herself. You can talk about other things. He'll probably want to talk about books.

He parked at the restaurant, a chain place that was slightly pricier than usual. And he walked around to open up her door before she could manage it herself. "Thanks," she said.

John touched her upper arm lightly as they walked towards the front doors. "They don't take reservations, but I tried," he laughed. Alex echoed his laugh, but her stomach was churning with nerves.

They were seated at a small table in the corner. Alex took off her jacket and draped it over the back of her chair before sitting down. "You look amazing in that dress, by the way," he said.

Alex's cheeks heated. "Thanks," she said. It was a beautiful dress, but it didn't quite fit right; it was off just enough to make her keenly aware of how it was a little tight at the waist and a little loose at the bust. She tugged at the neckline self consciously.

"Get whatever you want," John said as he opened his menu. "It's on me."

"Oh," she said. "Thanks, that's so…that's so generous of you."

John grinned at her. He did have very nice eyes, the most vivid sky blue she'd ever seen. He'd styled his blond hair too, and it made him look like a catalog model. "Don't worry about it," he said. "It's the least I can do after all those book recommendations you helped me with."

Finally. Books. Something she could talk about. "I'm so glad you liked them," she said. "I love Kate Atkinson, I think her novels are really underrated. Did you like Life After Life? Because she wrote a followup-"

John laughed. "I think I have a confession to make," he said. "The stuff you suggested for my papers, those books were useful but the novels…I kind of just read the synopses online in case you asked me about them." He smiled at her, as if he was trying to be charming and roguish but it just came off as kind of aggressive. Too much teeth. "I only asked you about them so I'd have a chance to talk to you. I'm not much of a reading for fun guy."

"Oh," she said, deflating a little. "Oh, well…you could've fooled me."

He laughed again. "Secret's out now, I guess," he said. He frowned and glanced around. "No one's taken our drink order yet. Hang on."

He snapped his fingers. Actually snapped. Alex shrank back. She'd only seen people do that in movies.

A waitress in her early twenties walked over to them. "Can I help you?" she asked. If she was irritated she hid it well.

"Yeah, hi-" John craned his neck to see her nametag. "-Ivy, we've been sitting here for like fifteen minutes and no one's gotten us drinks." He looked at Alex. "What would you like, Alex?"

"Uh…sweet tea with lemon, please?" she said.

"Coke for me," John said. "I'm ready to order too, if you don't mind."

Alex flipped through her menu. She wasn't ready to pick anything, but John was already rattling off his order. "Do you know what you want?" he asked. "I recommend the blackened chicken, I think you'll like it."

"Um…sure," she said, too caught off guard to argue or ask for more time. "That's…that'll be fine."

The waitress scribbled their orders down and walked away. John leaned back, clearly satisfied. "So, Alex," he said. "Do you have any hobbies other than books?"

Something about the way he phrased it made her itchy. "Well, I'm really passionate about learning languages," she said.

"Oh, really? What do you speak?" he inquired.

"I'm fluent in French, Spanish, and Italian," she said. "I'm conversationally fluent in American Sign Language and Russian, but they're still a work in progress. And some German and Welsh just for fun."

"Holy shit, you're not kidding," John said. "That's impressive. I bet it comes in handy when you travel."

She looked down at her silverware. "I've never been out of the US, actually," she said. "I want to, though, I'd love to travel. I've just never gotten the chance."

John frowned. "Seriously?" he said. "Never?"

"Never."

"I don't think I've ever met another St. Thaddeus kid who hasn't traveled," John said. "At least, not a Roosevelt or Kennedy kid. I'm guessing most of the Lincoln kids haven't, but I don't talk to them." He laughed at his own joke. Alex bristled. "But you're not joking? You've never been out of the country? I usually go Europe at least once in the summers, and we go to Mexico for spring break."

"No," she said.

The waitress set their drinks down. Alex stuck her straw in hers and immediately took a sip, giving herself something to do that wasn't look at John. "That's really interesting," he said. "What do your parents do, if you don't mind me asking."

"My dad is a police officer and my mom is a secretary," Alex said. She didn't need to guess at John's reaction. He looked at her quizzically, probably wondering why her answer wasn't "a CEO" or "a high powered attorney" or "an ambassador overseas."

"That's so interesting," he said again. "Where are you from?"

"Kansas."

"I don't think I've ever met anyone from Kansas, I didn't think people actually lived there," John said.

"Where are you from?" she asked. She sounded unnecessarily formal but she didn't know how to sound casual.

He took a swig of his coke. "Pacific Northwest," he said. "My dad is the director of a textiles company, and my mom runs an online company selling vintage inspired toys. Really big with the boho crowd."

"Oh, wow," she said. She'd been saying that a lot but she couldn't think of anything else to say. "That's so interesting." She unrolled her napkin and dabbed her lips carefully. She wasn't used to Emily's fancy lipstick and she was afraid of smearing it.

John shrugged modestly. "We do pretty well for ourselves," he said. He took another sip. "Have you submitted your college applications?"

"Yeah, I did," she said. "About a dozen or so, but I'm really hoping for Berkeley. What about you?"

"I keep forgetting to send mine," he said. "It'll be fine, though. I'm probably going to go to UPenn since that's where my dad went, and he can call and smooth things over if I miss the deadline. Oh, good, our food's here."

She was grateful for the distraction of dinner arriving, although she had to force herself to eat it. When John had said it was blackened chicken what he apparently had meant was just straight up burned, and even if the meal had been good she couldn't have eaten it anyway. Her stomach was tied up in knots.

This wasn't right. None of this seemed right. She had always imagined…well, she had never really imagined her first date, not in detail, but she had at least imagined that she liked the person she was with. Her first date should have been easy and comfortable, and any nervousness should have come from excited butterflies, not anxious dread. John was just…he was a stranger. She barely had anything in common with him. Not like…not like…

Weirdly, the first comparison that came to mind was James. Not that they'd ever had dinner together or gone to a movie alone or anything, but their conversations were always fun. She could talk with him about anything; he knew how to make her laugh. Maybe that's what she needed to look for if she ever went on another date. Somebody more like James Blake than John…John…

I don't even know his last name, she thought.

Luckily the excruciating dinner wrapped up swiftly. If John was as uncomfortable as she was he didn't let on. He handed his credit card to the waitress with a flourish and signed his name on the receipt in big bold swoops. "We've got plenty of time before the movie," he said. "Let's walk over there, it's not too far and it's a nice night."

It was a nice night, but it was colder now. She dug her hands deep in her pockets as John rested his hand on the small of her back as they walked down the sidewalk. The pressure was slight but impossible to ignore.

He still chatted as they walked, but she couldn't think of anything to say. She was still hungry but there was no possible way she could eat anything. Hopefully he wouldn't want to get snacks at the movie theater.

No such luck, though. "You can't go to a movie without popcorn," he said as soon as they walked into the lobby, and somehow she found herself holding a tub of popcorn while he held two sodas. She'd tried to pay for the snacks when she found out he'd already purchased the movie tickets, but he waved her off and handed his card over before she could get her wallet out of her purse.

"I've been looking forward to this movie for ages," he told her as he led her to their seats. "It's been getting great reviews."

Sitting in the movie theater wasn't so bad while they were waiting for it to start, when the lights were still mostly up and she could look at the screen instead of at him. Once the trailers started to roll, though, that nauseous dread started rising up in her stomach again.

John was sitting so close to her that she could smell his cologne; doubtless it was expensive but that didn't mean it had to smell nice. She sat very still, facing forward, the tub of popcorn balanced on her lap, focusing on the movie. It's just an hour and a half, she thought. You can do that.

At some point John took the popcorn from her and at first she was relieved, until he set it down on the floor and shifted to drape his arm around her shoulders. Alex stiffened. Her fight or flight was kicking in and she wanted to bolt.

It's just his arm. This is nothing. It's fine.

His cologne smelled way too strong. Unconsciously she shifted and leaned away from him, holding her breath. John didn't move his arm. His hand shifted to cup her shoulder, his thumb rubbing the soft velvet of her sleeve. The dress felt tighter now, but maybe it was just the panic building in her lungs.

You're fine. It's fine. You're absolutely fucking fine, just chill. It's a date. It makes sense that he wants to be close with you. Stop freaking out.

Hopefully no one asked her about the movie after this, because she retained absolutely nothing about it. There was a car chase and some explosions but that's all she recognized because at some point John's other hand crept towards hers. His fingers were soft and puffy and a little sticky.

Abort mission, abort mission, abort mission! her brain screamed.

The second the credits started to roll and the lights turned on she jumped apart. "You're right, that was so good," she said, hoping he couldn't tell she was lying. "Oh, that went a lot longer than I thought. We should probably head back."

John smiled lazily at her. "We've got some time," he said.

"No, I, um…" she stammered. She couldn't think of a good enough reason. "My RA is just a huge stickler for bed checks."

That was a lie. Elle rarely cared, especially if she was missing since it usually meant she was with Aaron and Spencer. But John didn't need to know that.

"Fine, yeah, we can head back, then," he said. He left the nearly full popcorn tub on the floor, nudging it with his toe and dislodging some of the contents on the floor. "Let's go."

The walk back to the car was somehow worse. All she could smell was his cologne, so strong it was making her dizzy. His arm was snaked around her waist, heavy as an anchor. An albatross around her neck, so to speak, except if she tried to make that analogy to John he probably didn't know what she meant.

She regretted Emily talking her into the heels. They were still fairly new and hadn't been broken in at all. The longer they walked the more her heels throbbed; by the time she made it back she would have full-fledged blisters.

If John noticed she was quiet on the walk and silent during the car ride home, he didn't let on at all. He talked enough for both of them, chattering brightly. His hand rested on her knee as he drove, his fingertips curling into the fabric of her tights. It didn't feel like gentleness, or even attraction, it just felt possessive, like he wanted to keep his grip on her permanently.

He just likes you. He thinks you're pretty and he wants to get to know you better. Why are you reacting like this?

He parked the car and released his hold on her with a light pat, but her moment of relief was immediately disrupted by him taking her hand. "Nice thing about us living in the same dorm room, we can walk all the way back together," he said.

"Yeah, that's nice," she echoed.

She didn't want to hold his hand. Why didn't she want to hold his hand? He was cute and nice and he'd paid for her dinner and their movie tickets and he was clearly attracted to her, why was she so worried?

Just stop thinking for once, Miller, Jesus Christ.

He escorted her into the Roosevelt lobby and walked her towards the stairs. "I'm really glad you said yes to a date," he said. "I've had an amazing night."

"Yeah, it's been a lot of fun," she said. "Thanks for paying for everything, I appreciate it."

"Oh, it's nothing," he said. He touched her hair lightly. It was even longer than usual after Emily had straightened it, she couldn't remember ever straightening her hair before. "You're a gorgeous girl, Alex."

"Thanks," she said.

"I've been waiting for ages to get close enough to you to ask you out," he said. "Maybe we could go out again sometime?"

No, thank you. No. Not ever. I'm never dating again.

"Sure," she said aloud, even though she had no idea why.

I've got to stop being so polite.

John was smiling at her, those piercing blue eyes staring right into her, and it took her a moment to realize that he was looking right at her lips, and he was leaning in closer to her-

"I have to go!" she blurted out, and she ran.

Running up the stairs in heels was a horrible idea. She could feel the newly formed blisters on her heels start to pop and bleed. Her heart was in her throat, beating so hard she couldn't see straight. She bolted all the way up to the sixth floor, praying that he wasn't behind her. God, she didn't even know what floor he was on, hopefully he wasn't anywhere close to her.

She flung her door open and stumbled inside, then slammed it behind her.

"Oh my god, you're back!" Emily said happily. She tossed her magazine aside. "How did it go? Did you have fun? Did he kiss you?"

Alex's chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath. Despite her best efforts, her lower lip started to wobble.

Emily's smile faded. "Oh my god," she said as she slid off her bed. "Are you okay? Did you not have a good time?"

Alex buried her face in her hands and burst into tears.