You considered yourself to be, at the risk of sounding arrogant, a very smart person.

More specifically, you knew better than to get foolishly attached to a man. Not only the psychopathic, immoral ones you dedicated your life to catching— although, you took additional care to avoid them— and even simply the clueless or greedy ones. Of course, you also tried to avoid feelings for the very attractive, smart man that you happened to work with.

Which, naturally, is exactly why you fell for him.

You were adamant that Spencer had no feelings for you. If he did, he was a better actor than you thought. He had no shortage of admirers, as completely ignorant to it as he was, and as his best friend, you were acutely aware of it. You supposed you should be grateful you’d stood out to him at all— even if only as a best friend. If you’d already damned yourself by gaining feelings for the genius, you wouldn’t plunge further by trying to stake your claim over a man who clearly had no romantic interest in you.

Especially not one that had a girlfriend.

You knew that it was low to loathe the woman so deeply, but when you heard about the existence of Max, you couldn’t help it. Your suspicions were confirmed; Spencer had no feelings for you beyond friendship. So, why did it sting so much when you found out?

As things always seem to do with him, Max was involved in a case. Cat Adams, a hit woman he’d arrested 4 years prior, had come back for vengeance. Again. You couldn’t truly blame her, as you supposed you were more similar through your feelings than you would have liked to admit. She’d have more of a chance if she hadn’t done such vile things to him, but you figured she wasn’t open to advice.

Once the case had closed, it had done so with the bang of Spencer kissing both Cat and Max. As absurd as you knew it was, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of jealousy towards the two barriers of separation between you and Spencer. You weren’t doing a great job of hiding it, either, and maybe that was purposeful. Maybe you wanted him to know you were jealous.

“Are you okay?” He inquired, finding you in your office doing paperwork. You’d felt his presence in the doorway for a while now, without once having to look up, but you wanted him to have the first word. You wanted him to initiate the awkward conversation.

“Fine. Why?” You asked, looking up at him with a pointed glare that let him know you knew exactly why.

“You’ve been quiet.” He said, and if he knew what you were trying to refer to, he gave no indication. That annoyed you beyond belief.