GOLDEN || S. REID

𝟷𝟺: 𝙽𝚎𝚠 𝚈𝚘𝚛𝚔, 𝙽𝚈

Eliza hated Tequila. In fact, she hated alcohol. Whoever put a legal drinking age on alcohol was probably a really smart person and should have made it twenty-seven or something like that. In Eliza's opinion, she should be one of the only people absolutely prohibited from the drink. Her head was pounding and everything hurt. She barely remembered what happened past leaving the morgue which was a terrible sign within itself.

Even worse, she barely remembered who she went home with because as far as she could tell, she was not back in her own hotel room. The tie hanging out of the suitcase settled on the table in the corner was a dead giveaway. Not to mention the windows that were wide open viewing the city rather than the Hudson--oh, and the huge elephant in the room being that fact that she was not in the outfit she'd been wearing yesterday.

Instead, she was in an oversized shirt and a pair of boxers that she hoped were clean. The shower was running and Eliza really didn't want to know who it was. She struggled to get out of the bed, legs tangling in the sheets as she wriggled around like a worm. With a thump, she landed on the floor, groaning out in pain as her entire body screamed in protest.

Eliza heard the shower turn off but she couldn't find it in her to care as she carefully got up onto her hands and knees. Her vision swam as she threw her arms up on the bed just in time to see the guy come out of the bathroom. He moved the towel obscuring his face and Eliza swore that her heart stopped. Standing in front of her in all his half-naked glory was Dr. Spencer Reid, the nerdy yet extremely attractive FBI agent that had captured her attention over the past few weeks.

This was definitely peak embarrassment. Eliza felt her cheeks burn red as he smirked at her, walking over to the suitcase at the end of the bed and pulling a shirt from its depths. He shrugged that on before dropping the towel, only to reveal that he did, in fact, have boxers on underneath. 

What a fucking tease.

"Good morning," he greeted, pulling on a pair of pants as his tie hung loosely from his neck. Eliza watched as it swung back and forth, tempted to pull him down to her level. To kiss or embarrass him, she didn't know, but the prospect of what could be was tempting.

She cleared her throat, pulling the white sheets closer to her chest. She wasn't naked but sitting there in front of him, she felt like she was. "Good morning," her eyes trailed over the expanse of his bare chest, mentally cursing him as he buttoned his shirt. "How... how did I? What happened...?"

"Figures you remember nothing from last night," Spencer teased. She looked away, fisting the sheets in her hands as she tried to remember anything from the night before. The familiar next-morning ache wasn't there... or maybe it had just blended in with the rest of her aching body, she couldn't tell.

Eliza's eyes widened. Did they actually? If they did, Eliza was absolutely screwed. She had one job, to not cheat on Julia while they underwent a divorce and now that she'd totally fucked that one up she'd probably lose the entirety of her wealth.

Fuck, Eliza really liked her money, too.

Spencer chuckled. "Calm down," he said as he tied his tie. "Nothing happened last night. You just got super drunk and I figured it'd be safer to bring you back here than to your siblings who were also drunk. I gave you the clothes and you managed to change yourself before passing out in my bed. I took the couch."

Eliza looked over at the couch, the not yet folded blankets and rumpled pillow proving his statement true. She slumped over, dropping the sheets as she flopped back onto the hotel floor.

"You know, this hotel hasn't really cleaned their carpets since twenty-ten so I wouldn't lay on the floor like that if I were you."

"Just leave me to the filth and grime of the nasty hotel carpeting then," Eliza moaned, throwing an arm over her eyes. "Do you have any ibuprofen or anything? My head is pounding."