You sat in class as the group of FBI agents spoke about murderers and profiling and whatever else they spoke about. You weren’t really paying attention. You had your focus drawn to one of the agents, a brunette named Emily Prentiss.

You watched her even when someone else was talking, and muttered a quiet “hear me out” to one of your friends near you. At some point, her eyes met yours. You quickly looked down at your desk, face flushing as you slowly looked back up at her to see her smirking. She turned her attention back to the group before asking the class some question about what the amount of stab wounds tells you about the unsub.

You sat through the rest of the lecture, occasionally making eye contact with her. She did the same thing each time, looking down with a smirk before moving on with the lecture. Before you knew it, class was over and they were all announcing there’d be an opportunity to ask questions to anyone who stayed behind.

You took an extra amount of time packing up your stuff, telling your friends they could go on without and rolling your eyes at their smirks and raised eyebrows. Before you knew it, you were one of the only people left in the room. Most of the agents were busy talking to some eager student, but Agent Prentiss stood at her podium, gathering files. She noticed you looking and smiled with a slight shake of her head, looking down. She looked back up at you, this time smiling directly at you. She wondered how long it would take you to approach her or say something.