If today hadn't been her last final, Shaw was pretty sure someone would have died. Not because of the final; she'd been more than prepared for that. It was the people who were the problem. When were they not?

This happened every year. She'd watched it all through high school, into college, and now med school. The end of the year approached, and everyone lost their minds. The children she was forced to sit in class with every day became more obnoxious and stupid, as if they were wild animals that could sense freedom approaching. For them, this meant all-nighters, binge drinking, more of it than usual, anyway, and more time for hooking up. Which would all take place at the raging parties happening in no less than a half dozen dorm buildings a night. Not that Shaw minded parties. Not enough to not go, that is. Free booze and music so loud no one bothers talking...fair trade-off. And sometimes, if she was in the mood, maybe a hook-up of her own.

But she actually wanted to get past finals first. Was that too much to ask? How was she supposed to take school seriously if no one else did?

The professors weren't much better. They'd improved some, the higher her education got, but the same threads were still there. Summer was coming, and everyone was over it. They had done their job, they seemed to think that was it. And they were as done with the kids as the kids were with them. They wanted to let them go off and party. They'd either failed or passed the class at that point, and that was that.

Shaw unlocked the front door, cursing when she almost dropped the keys. She was pissed off and tired and just wanted to collapse on the couch with a beer and maybe a movie. She'd had enough of people for one day. She dumped her backpack on the couch on her way to the kitchen.

"Ow!"

Shaw whirled to find Root spread out on the couch, a laptop open by her head. She was obviously just waking up, her current state courtesy of Shaw. She considered apologizing, before Root dumped her backpack on the floor, sending the contents everywhere.

"Really?"

"You dropped it on me," Root bit back.

"Stop sleeping on the fucking couch, dumbass!" Shaw turned her back on the mess and got that beer from the fridge. As she popped the top off, she added, "Why are you sleeping on the couch again, anyway? Thought I told you to stop doing that."

Root stretched, her shirt riding up her lean torso. "Didn't mean to."

"Uh-huh."

It really was a bad habit. She liked to work like this, laid out on her stomach, the laptop in front of her, but she was prone to falling asleep after working too much. Or if the work was boring, as she'd told Shaw once.

Shaw didn't care if she fell asleep while she worked, only if her long ass legs took up all the sitting space. Unlike Root, she didn't spend most of her time holed up in her room. She liked to sit on the couch after class, whether to eat or study or catch a game. That was hard to do with a sleeping person there.

The first time, Shaw startled her awake on purpose, before making her move out of the way. The second time, she just sat on her, which startled Root so terribly that it made Shaw laugh until her stomach hurt. And then Root was laughing, and no one seemed all that upset. But the third time, Shaw had dumped her off the couch the way she'd wanted to have a reason to the day they met. And as Root looked up at her from the floor with an insulted look in her blurry eyes, Shaw had threatened bodily harm if she didn't stop hogging the couch for her naps.

Clearly, that threat had an effect. She never did seem to be able to get anything from Root that Root wasn't already willing to give. She rarely gave in to Shaw's demands, wasn't intimidated by her in the least, and had more than once invited Shaw to follow through on her threats of physical violence. The only reason Shaw hadn't was because she suspected Root would like it.

On the plus side, her generally dislikable personality didn't phase Root. On the contrary, Shaw thought sometimes that Root kind of liked her grumpy, anti-people nature. And the rare times they'd been in public together, the way Shaw spoke to other people seemed to amuse her. Just as she had in the bookstore, she laughed at people's idiocies and incited Shaw to do the same. Actually, after five months of living together, Shaw was starting to get used to it. Root would mock someone just to get a rise out of her, and a couple of times now, Shaw had caught herself actually laughing instead of getting upset, like she usually did when someone tried to engage with her. There had even been a couple of occasions on which Root wasn't even present, and Shaw thought of her and what she might say about someone's behavior. She wasn't sure yet how she felt about that.

Despite living together, they spent very little real time together. Root was often up late working on her computer, she was practically glued to the thing, so she slept in while Shaw got in a run, made coffee, had breakfast, and all before classes started, if she had any that day. And then of course, Shaw was often gone. She might not see Root again until the evening, if she saw her at all.

Root had been true to her word in all respects. She wasn't messy, loud, or talkative. Usually. If she got some alcohol in her, she loosened up quite a bit, but Shaw just found it amusing. And luckily, Root didn't skimp on the alcohol when it was her turn to shop. The house was better supplied than ever, both with things Shaw liked to drink and the things she didn't but Root did. Her ominous warning aside, she'd only set off the fire alarms once, for which she was very apologetic. She cooked a couple times a week, always making enough to last them a couple days, and cleaned up after. She wasn't a half-bad roommate, if perhaps a bit intrusive.

Root didn't seem to believe in boundaries. She liked to ask personal questions, seemed to think that 'no' as an answer meant something more along the lines of 'ask again later', and took pleasure from pushing Shaw's buttons. Also, she was pretty sure Root already knew more about Shaw than she was saying, more than Shaw had ever let her know. There were signs of it sprinkled amongst their interactions. Shaw wanted to know what she'd found, but also really didn't. For now, she pretended not to have guessed that Root looked into her. Shaw had even considered kicking her out for it. But every time she thought it, she talked herself out of it by thinking about having to find someone else. That process had been such a nightmare, Root would have to do something truly unforgivable to get kicked out. And she knew it. Or Shaw suspected she did, which is why she made no effort to reign in her personality. Shaw had put in the sixty-day clause of the rental contract assuming that whomever she lived with would try to hide the worst of their issues until they were past that, but Root hid nothing. It was probably best that their schedules continued to differ as much as possible, because Shaw wasn't sure she could handle her full time.

Which was going to make summer interesting. Shaw had considered getting a job to fill her time and supplement her income, and now she was convinced it was a good idea. She finished off her beer and picked up her books and papers and whatever else had spilled out of her bag. Root was sitting on the edge of one cushion, her hair slightly mussed on one side, watching her.

"Move your ass," she snapped. "You had your turn; there's a game on."

Root raised an eyebrow. "Pretty sure this couch seats both of us, sweetie."

Shaw kicked her as she walked past. Petty, but she didn't care. Root knew better than to use a nickname on her. Shaw had tried to ban those in the first week. Key word there, 'tried'. It was either a nickname or 'Sam' in a flirty, sickly sweet drawl. She hated them all.

When she came back into the room, Root had gotten comfortable at one end of the couch, the laptop back in her lap. At least she'd made space. Shaw grabbed another beer and the remote. The basketball game had already started, but it was still early. She flicked off the cap on her beer and took a swig. From the corner of her eye, she watched Root's eyes track the clattering piece of metal. She knew Root hated it that she threw those everywhere. She always cleaned them up, but Root thought it silly that she threw them in the first place. Shaw had started leaving them lying around for longer just for that.

She didn't say anything, though. In fact, Root didn't speak at all until halftime. Shaw was popping a bag of popcorn when she said, "Well, the police haven't shown up yet."

"What?" Shaw shot her a confused look.

Root smirked. "I take it no one died?"

Shaw huffed and rolled her eyes, making her laugh. Okay, yeah, finals made her a little pissy, but really? Did Root think she was going to stab a classmate in the neck with her pen? Well, she had been thinking to herself something similar just this afternoon...but still.

"If I did kill someone, there'd still be no cops." Shaw plopped back down on the couch. "Cause there'd be no fucking body to find."

Root grinned. "And no evidence on the body, regardless." She reached over and stole some popcorn. Shaw smacked her away. Didn't she know better by now? Nope. Root just munched on the handful she'd taken, minus the pieces that fell between them at Shaw's swipe.

"Nobody's dead," Shaw grumbled. "Even if they would deserve it."

"One less idiot on the planet," Root said lightly.

Shaw was pretty sure Root didn't actually want her to kill anyone. But at the same time, she seemed to take delight in the knowledge that Shaw likely could get away with it. Maybe Root was just a bit morbid, who knew. But Shaw thought that if Root was so sure Shaw could unremorsefully kill someone in a fit of rage and make the body disappear like that, then maybe Root should be a bit more careful.

She had no such self-preservation instincts. She took more popcorn a minute later, prompting Shaw to bite her. She was fast enough to catch her, but Root didn't cry out. She just grinned, looking down at Shaw's mouth, teeth clamped deeply in her skin. "Oh, it's that kinda party, huh?"

Shaw's brow furrowed. She dropped Root's hand so fast it was like she'd suddenly discovered it tasted bad. And she shoved Root away from her. She couldn't entirely fault Root for taking that opening; Shaw shouldn't have even cracked the door. Root had been flirting since the day they met. She was persistent, just shy of aggressive about it, and found openings that actually impressed Shaw. Or would have, if they weren't directed at her. She'd tried to put a stop to that, too. But of all the things she couldn't control, Root's mouth was top of the list.

She'd tried to make sure Root knew she wasn't interested, to which Root had replied, "Then there's no harm, right?"

Shaw had glared. "Except it's annoying."

"They're just words, Sam."

"You're wasting your effort."

"Wasting?" Root had pouted. "But flirting is good for you. I heard it releases endorphins."

Technically, that was true. But that just made Shaw want to punch her in the face.

"You're not so good with the word 'no', are you?"

Root had smiled at her, pretending to think about it. "You know...never really have been. It's just not a good one for me."

"What, doing as you're told? They're called boundaries."

Root had sidled closer. "Yeah, not so good with those, either."

Shaw elbowed her in the ribs to put space between them, then moved to the other side of the kitchen. "You're asking for pain, Root."

A smirk had appeared on her lips. "Am I?" Her tongue darted out. "Okay then, if that's what you're into."

Shaw had rolled her eyes, wanting to throw her hands in the air. Did nothing put her off? "No. Just no. Not. Into. Women. Definitely not into you."

"Don't be." Root had waved her off. "I knew you were straight the moment I met you."

"Then why the fuck-"

"Because it's fun," Root enunciated, leaning on the table between them. She grinned. "You know, fun? I like flirting with you. No blood, no foul."

Shaw glared in return. "Whatever floats your boat, bitch. But don't ever fucking touch me."

Root technically never agreed to that. Shaw wasn't surprised. She was a master of loopholes. And while she wasn't quite hands-off, she didn't do anything overt or blatantly stupid. Like try to kiss Shaw. Maybe she'd finally noticed the line in the sand and decided to toe it. But that didn't stop her from finding reasons to brush up against Shaw. From crossing her feet under the table when Shaw was on the other side, to suddenly needing something from a cabinet that was above Shaw's head, and pressing up against her from behind while she got it. Shaw wondered if by not trying harder to put a stop to it, she was encouraging it. But violence seemed like a reward to Root, not a consequence. And they were harmless little things, so far. Certainly nothing worth kicking her out over.

But maybe she should. She probably would have by now to anyone else she might have chosen. No, she definitely would have. Why not Root?

The problem was, she couldn't answer that question. She told herself she needed to pick her battles, save her energy for the big stuff, because it was better to have to put Root in her place than to replace her with someone else. But that felt like a cop out. And despite the face she put on, she wasn't annoyed by everything Root did. Perhaps mildly affronted, definitely confused at much of it. But not angry like she got angry with most of the world. She wouldn't go so far as to say she enjoyed living with Root, there were few things she truly enjoyed, but she didn't hate it. Root was otherwise easy to live with. And she was witty, able to keep up with Shaw on her best days. She hadn't even bothered hoping for a roommate she could comfortably jest with, let alone someone who could make her laugh. But Root did. She was whipsmart and clever as hell. And Shaw liked it. Which played at least a part in the number of things she got away with.

She honestly asked herself sometimes why she made exceptions for Root. When she counted the offenses on her hands, she ran out of fingers. From the flirting to the sarcastic returns to the stealing of food to the nicknames and beyond. Root took every liberty she could get, all while watching Shaw closely for a reaction. Yep, she definitely should have kicked her out by now.

Shaw guarded the rest of her popcorn jealously. Biting, bad idea. Noted. This was just another moment that added to why she suspected Root liked a little pain. Normally, Shaw would probably appreciate that. But not in someone as smug and cheeky as Root. Shaw had nothing to hold over her if she couldn't scare her off like she did other people to keep them at bay. She knew by now if she wasn't careful, she'd do the opposite. She'd invite Root closer. Because apparently, she wanted to be close to the fire more than she cared about getting burned.

"Still, I'm glad." Shaw ignored the seemingly random comment. "I trust your skills, but there's always a chance. And I would so hate to see you go to prison."

Shaw scoffed.

"I'm just saying. Apartment hunting sucks."

"You say the sweetest things."

Root shifted on the couch. Shaw refused to look at her, but she was pretty sure she was facing her now. Apparently, since food and computers didn't mix, there was nothing to hold her attention now but Shaw. Great. Shaw so wished she was into sports. Then she'd watch the game like a normal fucking person. Maybe.

"I kind of envy you." Shaw didn't ask why. Not that she needed to. "I never got to go to college."

Shaw couldn't help giving her an odd look.

"What?"

When Shaw glanced at the laptop, now closed on the coffee table, Root chuckled. "Oh. I'm self-taught."

"Mhm." Shaw wasn't sure she believed that. Obviously, Root was very smart. Shaw had figured that much out for herself. But she got the sense that she was more than just brilliant. Some people were very book smart, but had no idea how to use all that intelligence. Root wasn't one of them. And despite her insistence on staying with Shaw, it wasn't because she needed somewhere to live. Not even close. Once again, she knew with certainty that there was so much more to Root than met the eye.

"I grew up in a small town," Root shrugged. "Had to stay busy somehow."

Shaw snorted. "That's what boys are for. Well-"

"I started coding when I was eight," Root interjected.

Shaw considered that. "Eight, huh?" She glanced back at the TV, hoping she didn't seem too interested. "That bad?"

Root chuckled. "Suffice it to say, the town I was born in was too small to have a postal code. I went to school in the next town over." Shaw winced. "Yeah."

"Is that why you left?"

"Because it was boring? I guess." Her tone was too carefully casual for that to be even close to the whole truth. "I wanted more than what Texas could offer."

Shaw tried not to laugh. "You wanted to see the world?"

Root detected the teasing in her voice, realized the cliché. "No." Her voice was sharper now. "I wanted to learn all its secrets."

"And how's that going?"

Root thought about it seriously. "I think...one can never know it all. There's always more to discover." Her eyes met Shaw's and lit up. "But that's what makes life interesting."

"Hm." She contemplated Root for a moment, not even noticing the score change. "You can't be much older than I am." Root didn't confirm or deny this. "You don't sound very Texan. Are you hiding an accent?"

Root rolled her eyes, annoyance flickering in the set of her mouth. "That is very intentional, Sam. I didn't leave that place behind so I could remember it every single day."

Of course, she didn't confirm or deny ever having had an accent. But no matter how hard Shaw tried, she just couldn't picture it. Or in this case, hear it. And she had a good imagination.

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

Root smiled. "Do you want to see the world, Sameen?"

Shaw looked away, the LED lights of the screen oddly bright. She squinted at it anyway, as if she even knew what was on it.

"I want," she said slowly, "to save a few lives. I want to know that it matters that I existed."

"You could never be another waste of space," Root said firmly. "As humans generally are," she added quickly, her tone more light. "You're going to be a brilliant doctor." She said it as if Shaw already was.

"Whatever."

"But you probably have to do it without killing anyone, body to find or no. Good internship programs would probably frown on even a whiff of foul play."

Shaw snorted. "You have no idea." The competition was fierce. Even now, just wrapping up her second year of med school, it was cutthroat. Being smart and having good grades was no longer enough. People would kill to get ahead, whatever it took. Right before the holidays, a kid in her class had gotten kicked out for cheating. Except, Shaw was pretty sure he hadn't cheated. And she was pretty sure she knew who had set him up.

"Think you'll stay here in Chicago?"

She hoped not. It was bumfuck cold for half the year. "I'll go wherever I have to." She had no desire to reveal to Root her hope of landing a job in New York. She didn't need to know. Why the sudden burning desire to get to know each other?

"Well, with any luck, maybe you'll have your internship and residency somewhere new, a fellowship somewhere else, and then you can have your pick of places as an attending."

Shaw rolled her eyes. Had Root been drinking when she wasn't looking? "I think I'll focus on school for now." It was her internship that was the real trial. Then she had patients to worry about, on top of authority figures and coworkers. That was a lot of fucking people.

"I love your focus. But too much of that is no good either."

"What the fuck, Root?" Shaw ran a hand over her face. She'd missed the entire third quarter with her chatter. She tried to bring her attention back to the game.

Root shifted toward her. "I think you need a night out."

Shaw didn't answer.

"You and I both know the best parties are just starting. Let's go somewhere, dance until it's light again and get completely wasted."

Shaw nearly laughed. Root, wasted? She'd never seen her wasted. Did she even get drunk?

She rolled her head to look at her. "Seriously?"

"Yeah, seriously. C'mon, it'll be fun." Root was grinning, thrilled with her own suggestion.

"That's up for debate."

"When was the last time you put on something sexy and just let loose?"

Admittedly, far too long. Sometimes, she got a little too caught up in her studies. It was easy to do when most of the time she really didn't want to go out and deal with people.

She'd lost interest in the game anyway. So she huffed what might have been 'fine'.

Root cheered. "First one ready chooses the party. Ooh, do you have shorts or a miniskirt? I wanna see those tanned legs, Sam!"

Shaw ignored her, slamming her door behind her. Just for that, she was so not going to expose her legs. The only problem with that, she realized, looking into her closet, was 'sexy' clothing did just that. Accentuated one's best features. Any skirt just screamed 'easy access'. Pants kept her skin covered, but everything she owned was skin-tight. Root would love all of it.

Shaw finally just picked something. It annoyed her that Root ever came into her mind while she was picking an outfit, even if it was to be contrary.

Root was waiting by the door when she came back out. She was dressed in leather pants and a crop top, leaving much of her upper body bare. Shaw wouldn't be caught dead in a crop top, but it was a cute look for her, not that Shaw would ever tell her that. And the red-purple of the top highlighted her pale, smooth skin, her perfectly styled waves just brushing her bare shoulders. Shaw was impressed that she could look so done up so fast.

Root looked her up and down, too, very thoroughly. Shaw didn't complain. It was nice to be admired, even if it was by another woman. She did hip-check her on the way out the door, though, for the way Root had licked her lips when she checked her out.

The party Root chose was just picking up speed. It was still early, by party standards. Music thumped through the house with a beat that Shaw could feel in her bones. They worked their way through a throng of people until they got to the drink table.

Shaw was quick to tell her, "I think you owe me shots for this!"

Root laughed. "Sure thing, doll." She poured them both something Shaw didn't see.

Unafraid of a mystery drink, she tipped the shot glass to her lips and knocked it back. It burned going down, but she shook it off. Root immediately handed her another. They did three in total before switching to beer. Shaw knew Root wasn't a fan of most beer, but that was what was plentiful at these parties, so she sucked it up. At least she didn't resort to a fruity-something-piece-of-shit. Shaw would never respect her after that.

They lost track of each other eventually. Shaw had glanced around to gauge how many people she knew first; she hated hooking up with people she had to see again. When she looked back, Root was gone. She shrugged and moved on.

When she saw her again, she was by a food table, but she wasn't alone. A man stood next to Root, someone their age, and he appeared to be flirting with her. Root stood there with her drink, bored and disinterested. It was obvious, except to the poor sap trying to get her attention. Shaw had to laugh.

But this guy just wasn't taking her cues. He moved in closer, invading her personal space. Shaw watched carefully, curious how Root would handle him. She scowled and said something that looked polite, but likely had some bite to it. The man wasn't deterred. He said something else that made Root roll her eyes. There was always one. Every party had that one person, usually a man, sadly for the sake of stereotypes, who had to hit on the hottest women in the room, thinking he not only stood a chance, but that she would actually go home with him. And when they didn't, he was the same type who claimed all women were stuck-up bitches. Shaw snickered. Yeah, he wasn't even close on this one. Root was miles out of his league.

He couldn't see that, though. And then he reached for her, as if touching her would convince her to go somewhere with him. Yep, there was always that inevitable escalation. He moved like he was going for her hip, but was quick to slide that hand around to her ass.

Shaw was this close to intervening, when Root grabbed the man's hand at the wrist, pinching at the bones and twisting. She shoved that hand back into his body, still tight in her grasp, and yanked him close, grabbing his opposite elbow to hold him there. As she whispered something in his ear that made him pale, visible even in the dim lighting, she kept a firm grip on him. Shaw knew that move, knew how much it hurt. To anyone else, this almost looked like foreplay. But that idiot was completely under her control right now, and not in a good way.

Root shoved him back, releasing his wrist as she did. He reeled like a man on the edge of a cliff, before stumbling away, cradling his arm. She watched him go with one raised, unimpressed eyebrow. Shaw drew in a breath. Well, that was unexpected. And kind of hot.

She snaked through the crowd, working around the worst of the people until she could approach Root from behind. She crept up close, leaning in to whisper, "I'm dying to know what you said to him."

If Root was startled, it didn't show. She just turned her head and whisper-shouted back, "Play nice, maybe I'll tell you." The movement of her head caused her body to sway back into Shaw's. But it didn't leave. She stayed there, her back lightly pressed to Shaw's front.

For reasons she couldn't explain, Shaw let her stay. She put her lips to Root's ear. "I'll play. But only if there's a bonus round." Root smirked, turning a little further so Shaw could see that eyebrow go up again. "What do I have to do to get you to do that again?"

Root pretended to think about it. And then she turned, now pressing her front to Shaw's. She lightly grasped her hips, turning them so her back was to the drink table. "Easy enough." She leaned in, as if to make sure Shaw heard her. "Bonus points are awarded if you tell me how much you liked it."

Shaw smirked. She wasn't sure where Root was taking this, but so far, the game was fun. "Nuh-uh." She shook her head. "I'm not telling you mine before you tell me yours!"

Root didn't seem surprised by the answer. She pressed a little more fully into Shaw. "Better play nice, then."

Shaw glanced down to where their chests were pressed together, then back up. It was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "Play how?"

Root laughed, leaned forward again. "Dance with me!"

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Dancing? Ugh!"

Root was still laughing. She'd expected the reaction. "Please? I can see you moving to the beat, don't tell me you don't like it."

Shaw scowled. She did enjoy dancing, actually; it was one time she didn't have to think. Just not at college parties. "That's asking for some drunken ass to grind up on you!" She nodded toward the dance floor, which was mostly just that: grinding bodies. Not that she minded it, if it was her choice of partner and he wasn't so drunk he spilled his beer on her.

Root said into her ear, "Not a problem. Because you'll be grinding on me!"

Both eyebrows were up now. "I dirty dance with you to get you to come clean?"

"If anyone touches you, you might even get to see my right hook!"

Shaw grabbed her hand and dragged her to the makeshift dance floor. It was good to relax and let the music take her. The music was just loud enough they could feel the vibrations of it, like it would move the bodies in the room itself. It wasn't even unpleasant when Root glued herself to Shaw from behind, grinding into her ass.

Admittedly, she was a good dancer. She didn't settle for swaying side-to-side or just thrusting her hips a little, like too many people did. Shaw found herself laughing as they faced each other, their hands in the air. Root's eyes glinted in the low lighting, promising wicked things. She forgot about the game. She forgot about seeing Root punch anyone. They stayed close, getting lost in the music, whirling around each other and drinking. Root used the opportunity the touch her as much as possible, from hip bumps to ass grinding to hands brushed daringly over her body. She pushed a little, but didn't wander anywhere in appropriate. As long her hands stayed above her clothes, Shaw let her get away with it. Root had been right; she needed to let loose. The guys around them were so busy staring that no one tried to cut in. Maybe, at future parties, she'd always have a guaranteed dance partner. It would be nice to get out more, if she knew she wouldn't be hit on unless she wanted to be. She liked the idea of having a wingwoman. John had been terrible at it.

They danced until they were breathless. When they broke for drinks, they were both approached by interested parties. Shaw considered the hunky athlete looking down at her, but she just wasn't feeling any itch. So she sent him away and turned back to Root, already alone again.

"What, not your type?"

Root smirked. "I was gonna ask you the same thing!"

Shaw shrugged. Voice raised to be heard over the music she said, "Sick of buff football players."

"Oh, you poor thing," Root mocked.

Shaw just shook her head. So she was picky. She had the right to do that. And within reason, she could take home anyone she wanted to tonight, if she chose to do so. She'd never been turned down before, not by anyone single.

"Then what is your type?" Root edged a little closer, as if to be heard better. "Who would you pick?"

"No one here is making an impression, if I'm honest." Not that she'd looked very hard. "But jocks are just so...full of themselves!"

"I think that might be because they've been getting all the girls since high school!"

Shaw rolled her eyes. "Well, I'm over it! But you?" She glanced around. "Surely you're not going home alone?"

Root made a face. "I dunno...maybe there's only one girl here I want to go home with?"

Shaw was rolling her eyes before she'd even finished speaking. "Root-"

"Oh, relax. I'm not going to crawl into your bed in the middle of the night! Tempting, though that may be..."

Shaw scowled. Maybe a hook-up was a good idea. For both of them. Shaw could work off some steam and Root could focus on someone else for a night or two. But another glance around wasn't promising. And she really just wanted to dance some more.

So instead, she grabbed Root's hand and dragged her back to the makeshift dance floor in the middle of the room.

It wasn't until they were walking home that she remembered to ask. "Hey, you owe me. What did you say to that guy?"

Root smirked. "I told him to leave." Shaw just waited expectantly, making her laugh. "I told him that if I ever saw him again, I was going to break a bottle over his head and then make him eat it."

Shaw laughed loudly, the sound drowning out the clicking of their heels on the pavement. "I would pay to see that!"

Root chuckled. "I do think he pissed himself."

"At least! He looked terrified of you!"

Root shot her a sidelong look. "Most people would say I overreacted."

She scoffed. "First off, I'm not most people, thank fuck. Do you remember some of the shit that flew out of my mouth during those interviews?"

"One of the many things I've come to love about you." Root laughed and added, "Oh, and yes, I do. Vividly. My favorite was the way you choked the therapist with his own tie."

Shaw snorted. "Wish it had actually taught him something, but sadly, I doubt it. Anyway, the second thing is, you cannot overreact to a situation like that. How long is a woman supposed to wait, how many violations of her personal space are acceptable before she draws a very clear line?" Shaw snorted. "Why can they do whatever they want, but when we get physical to try to retain some boundaries, are we the bitch?"

"I couldn't agree more."

"Quite frankly, if more women knew how to do shit like that when a man can't take a 'no', maybe there would be less sexual assault in the world."

"I hear it's rampant at college."

"It is, actually. As if cutting loose means foregoing the law and bodily autonomy at all once. And colleges don't do shit about it!" Shaw cut herself before she really started ranting. "Anyway, I'm just saying. Right move."

"I'm glad you think so." Root gave her another look. "What's yours?"

"My what?"

Root lips turned up. "You don't get a body like that by running every day." This was of course accompanied by a much more lustful look. "And you carry yourself like someone who knows what she's doing. Add in the level of self-confidence you possess, and I'd wager you've done some form of martial arts since at least high school."

She was being conservative, Shaw knew. In fact, she may very well already know the answer. "Middle school. But my dad taught me how to throw a proper punch when I was seven." She flicked on the lights and tossed her keys on the table.

"I thought so." Root stopped in front of her, still eyeing her like she was prime rib. "Maybe someday you'll show me what you can do? All of what you can do?"

Shaw raised her eyebrows. The flattery was nice, but no. "Goodnight, Root."

"Goodnight, Sameen," followed her through her bedroom door.