Life Changing. Chapter One.
Title: Life Changing.
Author: Rianne.
Rating: T.
Summary: Take a journey back to San Francisco where it all began.
Disclaimer: My Name is Rianne and I am a CSI addict (what do you mean, not that kind of disclaimer?)
Author Notes: I have been feeling the urge lately to try out different things! This is my first Pre-CSI story! Hides behind computer as she waits to hear how it is received!
I know this idea has been often played with, so hopefully this is not too cliché.
This was originally inspired by the sweetest little place I saw on a holiday to Tenerife, way back in 2009 when I started writing this story! Stupid me forgot to find out the name of it, so I can't suggest it to travellers! Anyway, for the record I have never been to America, let alone San Francisco, so I have no idea if what I have planned for them is even geographically feasible within that city… but as it is a story I'm going with my heart! The story has become longer than I expected, so it is now multi-chapter.
I thought I would release the first chapter for you all to enjoy, Happy Valentines!x
Life Changing.
By Rianne.
Chapter One.
It was out of control.
He had never intended it to be.
He had somehow got away from himself.
Away from that shy, lurking part of his personality that floundered embarrassed and out of his depth outside the boundaries of science and lecturing and the things he knew.
His defences were down.
He could blame that on being out of Las Vegas, and that temptation filled vacation feel that San Francisco and its different kind of sunshine held for him.
Or he could try and blame it on the reawakened enjoyment he was feeling at being the teacher again, at having all those interested and impressionable students listening to his every word, or maybe not his every word, not all of them, he was a lot more realistic than that. He had looked up to some pretty bored faces over the last few days and even some closed eyelids and almost imperceptible snores.
Or maybe it was as simple as the fresher clearer air that was roaring off the San Francisco Bay… folks of days past had sworn that the sea air was good for the constitution.
He could blame anything he liked he was still here.
Waiting.
And wondering.
Wondering if he shouldn't be wondering more about the rapidity of his acceptance to go through with this.
At his unforeseen willingness to step into this new, uncomfortable, somewhat risky situation.
But he only found himself wondering about the woman behind the question.
"Would you like to… to go get something to eat… with me…? Would you like to have dinner with me?"
About her motives.
And about his, as he questioned if the intentions were the same on both sides.
About the bravado in her grin and yet the frightened flicker in her eyes.
The urges in him were there, unspoken but surprisingly strong.
He could have been wrong, but it certainly felt like there were temptations offered and wanted.
He shouldn't be here.
This was against every moral code he held true to as professor, educator, as a gentleman.
But even he could not deny that his intentions here were not as pure and as saintly as they should be.
He didn't want to be here as any of those three previously mentioned personas.
He wanted to be here as a man.
Had the unaccustomed urge to be seen for who he was, the genuine person and not the label he represented to the world.
No not an urge, a longing.
An ache to be known, just once.
There was the feel of holiday romance about it all.
Flirty, carefree, sweet.
And young.
Something he hadn't felt since he had spent that long, lazy summer with his aunt in his late teens and had been fascinated by the girl at the local bookstore, the girl who had smiled shyly at him and blushed when their fingers brushed as she returned his change.
There was a certain thrill of freedom about it.
He could be himself without any preconceived notions. She had no real prior knowledge beyond his being a professor of entomology. She didn't know his colleagues called him 'Gruesome Grissom', when they thought he couldn't hear them.
She knew nothing of his lonely existence, his solitary apartment, his working all the hours night-time sent.
All that wasn't an issue here.
There were instead new ideas.
New possibilities.
She seemed to genuinely share his interest in learning.
He was only here for three more days.
How much trouble could one little meeting cause?
What happens in San Francisco, stays in San Francisco?
He should know better.
He knew he should.
He knew what the Vegas version of those words could lead to. He had processed the leftovers, the murder, date rape, robbery, adultery, jail time, the bankruptcy…
But he didn't want to listen to that.
He wanted the innocence back.
And innocence exuded from her every pore.
And boy was he was drawn.
He had been rendered completely shell shocked by her first question.
Her voice different to what he expected, lower and older than her earnest expression and her words were even more so.
He had felt his jaw drop.
Had heard a rumble of surprise ripple around the auditorium.
Had felt the smugness in the assembled at one of them being able to stump the expert.
But she hadn't flinched, hadn't acted like she had stumbled into a huge faux pas, she had genuinely wanted to know.
And he, untrue to form had fumbled like the teenager who had not known how to talk to the shy pretty girl in the Rhode Island bookstore.
Yet she had acted as if she hadn't noticed.
Her attentive eyes and brain fixed on him as a knowledge source, almost as if they were the only two in the room.
And by the time he had managed to scrounge up an answer another question had been aimed right back at him.
Volleyed with ease.
And another until he had unwillingly apologised and suggested that they should all go get something for lunch as the next class was pressing their noses at the windows.
Yet she had approached him as the others had fled, disappearing relieved and hungry.
And the questions had continued.
The closer physical proximity fazing his brain.
The electric sparring had taken him completely by surprise.
How long since he had been that affected by any woman?
But watching her walk away at the end of the first lecture he had dismissed the spark.
His self-protective instincts had forced him to.
Had reminded him that it was most likely one-sided anyway.
Convinced himself to consider it a complete fluke.
At the most she might be a cute co-ed with a crush on her professor. He wasn't immodest, but it wasn't the first time.
But by the third class, the third day that week ending with her approaching him, not quite cautiously, but with a sense about her that she didn't want to be a bother, but she just had to know the answers to the things that she found perplexing, like she wouldn't be able to sleep without knowing.
And he had been more than willing to oblige her curiosity, hiding beneath the thinly veiled guise of educator, but he had not been prepared for the interest to develop.
A single feeling to take wing and rise.
Fluttering about in the quiet within him.
It had left him a bit stunned, he couldn't figure it out and so he carried on regardless of the vague warnings from his conscience, and despite his qualms that there was a tension building, and building rapidly, surprisingly over just the space of a few days.
Interest sparking from afar across the vastness of the lecture theatre.
He was painfully aware of her, the rapt attention she focused on him.
Knew without looking up where she had chosen to sit within the room at large.
And pretended hard that he wasn't affected.
Trying to dismiss all suggestions of a like mind and yet he was surprised over and over when she stole the words right out of his mouth.
He rarely met anyone who could match him in passion and intrigue.
And they certainly did not appear daily to challenge him in jeans and a t-shirt.
These were the best lectures he had ever given, he found himself striving to impress.
To impress her, and he didn't like to examine that too closely. He was afraid to.
And instead of ebbing as he had expected her interest too, this tension, it was getting stronger as she continued to approach the podium at the end of lectures instead of filtering out and back to her life as the other students did.
And today that fluttering inside him had smouldered into what could only be described as a warm licking flame.
Today had been different, she had seemed different, there had been a touch of a different kind of nervous tension between them as she had not even smiled in greeting before she had been instantly bombarding him with more questions. What could only have been described as a faint blush lighting her cheeks and a flustered ramble to her words. She had barely stopped for breath.
The questions of the past few days had been slow to build, starting simpler and through his answers spiralling up into realms of more complexity.
But something had been off today.
Made inherently curious by this new unknown fathom to her he had clumsily thrown out the suggestion of coffee. Wishing to calm her, maybe coffee had been the wrong beverage, relax her, stop her from fretting so.
His question had halted her mid-word.
Deep chocolate eyes had grown wide and questioning as her face had finally tilted up to meet his gaze.
The blush across the arch of her cheekbones had deepened and he might never admit it out loud, but her reaction had boosted the confidence of a man who had long since given up on the idea of a young woman finding him 'interesting…'
Even he couldn't hide from the obvious attraction burgeoning between them.
And from that single suggestion of his had come something fascinating and undeniable, something he didn't want to spoil by placing a name too, something which defied words, which intensely haloed their rapid give and take exchanges across the coffee shop table he had walked with her to in a blur.
It had ignited something.
Something in him that had only been mildly nudged before.
Something in him that he had presumed was to be left unexplored.
Something wanting.
Something missing.
It was brand new and as if he had known her forever.
She was young enough to be familiar with ease, had a defiant confidence only found in youth.
She had an intelligence that had left even him speechless.
A sharp alert mind that despite age challenged his, turned everything on its head.
He had been wrong to brand her on first blush, that was for certain.
Ashamed that he had labelled her young, from her ponytail with soft tendrils escaping, refusing to be restrained just like her mind, through her shapeless figure hiding t-shirt, down to the trailing jeans she had worn that first lecture, had labelled her far too innocent and doe eyed to be smart enough for his class.
And however dishevelled her appearance, lets face it, she had seemed far, far too pretty to wish to spend her time indoors with a bunch of socially awkward men and women, discussing insects and graphic depictions of crime scenes.
But it had been more than that.
More than just a flare of lust, or a physical interest.
Her whole being had set him alert.
She defied his skills of investigation.
Didn't fit neatly into his carefully categorised compartments.
If it was possible, he actually liked her even more for that.
For proving him wrong.
He needed to listen to what he preached. He was such a hypocrite. His whole lecture series had been based upon the premise that if the evidence changed so must the theory.
And this, this was all theories out of the window.
But he could do this, tempt himself beyond all reasonable thought, and still keep his all-important boundaries in place, still hold back.
He was sure of it. He could do that. He had too.
He looked down at his shoes. The empty cement sidewalk beneath him.
She was late.
Maybe she wasn't coming…
Maybe she had come to her senses.
She was probably amused as all get out to think about him waiting here alone for her half the night.
Poor weird socially backward scientist guy.
It was the truth in a way that didn't even sting him.
Not anymore.
He knew that was the way he presented himself.
It kept others out.
Kept the quiet solitude for him to concentrate on his studies, on his experiments, on his theories and puzzles.
This was a step outside himself.
He had to look strange waiting here.
Waiting alone just across the street from the secluded off campus coffee establishment that they had shared their invigorating conversation in that morning.
He avoided looking at his watch.
Maybe it had all been a game for her.
A bet or something more, an embarrassing scheme perhaps, a shameless attempt to smile pretty at the teacher, ask him out and maybe he'd give her an A.
But he didn't want to believe that.
He had been the focus of that kind of attention before, and thankfully after the first brutal school girl ambush circa 1970 had been naturally perceptive and wounded just enough to pre-empt such behaviours.
Those first attempted manipulations had come from simpering, scheming and devious females, the kind of girls who used to have him on his knees in high school, the ones he would have sunk to nothing for had they deemed him worthy enough to speak to, had they asked him to do their homework, as truly none of them would have found anything else of interest in him and eventually he had realised that they held no interest for him either.
And they had served him in good stead, once bitten a million times shy.
None of those women had been like Sara.
With Sara it felt different, like her interest had everything to do with his intelligence and about who he was, in equal measures. There had been laughter, freeing and comfortable. Waving in and out of a conversation that had ranged far and wide.
It could also have something to do with the fact that she couldn't have been born until the late sixties, if not the seventies.
Yet intelligence was their bridge.
As the coffee had all been consumed, the ceramic mugs so long empty that the pottery had cooled, she had started to shift in her seat, uncomfortable again as she had been before he had rescued her in the empty lecture theatre.
He sensed she had something to say, but the next question she had asked had been as unexpected as it was secretly pined for.
She had asked him out to dinner.
It was something in her eyes.
That had been what made her different from all the other women who had asked him that kind of question.
Such dark eyes.
Beseeching, lost, sad.
Lonely and yearning.
For what he couldn't be completely sure.
Attention, praise, education, knowledge, affection?
Yet as unfathomable as that expression was, that look was something he understood.
Something that grounded within him when their eyes met.
And more than that, it was the way she tried to hide it.
The way she stood taller than she should need to for her years.
The strength in her posture, the clear way she spoke, the intense way she absorbed.
He couldn't seem to stop watching her.
Taking her in.
The way she had sat mildly rigid as they had shared coffee, as if allowing herself to fidget would have given away more than she wanted too.
Like it or not she was his latest puzzle.
He liked puzzles.
And obsessive and unhealthy as that sounded he was ignoring the bleat of alarm bells.
He was a grown man. He could make decisions by himself.
He could make mistakes and if he didn't at least try he would be on his way back to Vegas kicking himself for his cowardice and plagued by his inability to let puzzles get away from him.
No. He would give her ten more minutes.
What else did he have awaiting him this evening?
An empty hotel room?
He fought the urge to check his watch again.
She couldn't be lost, or too far away.
It was her city, he had let her choose the place and the time.
He was a gentleman after all.
Had even made sure to leave the hotel early to make sure that he could find this place again.
He had showered, changed his clothes, shaved.
Avoided the word 'date' as it had tried to infiltrate its way into his head.
He had made the effort so far. Ten more minutes couldn't hurt.
And it wasn't like he had plans more impressive than room service or sitting alone at a restaurant.
Then he saw her, hurrying along towards the coffee bar.
Too far away for her to have noticed him yet, her attention fixated on the ground as her surprisingly long strides propelled her forwards, her brow creased with the consternation of someone regrettably late, and apologetic.
Someone formulating explanations or excuses.
Always thinking.
He just stared.
She had come.
Watched as she came to a halt across from him.
Watched as her gaze swept from side to side searching, but for whatever reason she never looked up and forward to where he watched.
He felt a slow smile spread as she instinctively checked her wrist for the time even though her wrist was empty tonight of the heavy timepiece she had worn earlier.
He watched the breath she took slide through her before she settled back, stepping under the overhang of the building as to not be as conspicuous in her waiting.
He couldn't take his eyes from her.
She looked beautiful.
The dying early evening light dappled over her skin.
No more jeans.
This evening the bay breeze rippled the pale fabric of her dress.
It was dated and ill fitting and definitely inexpensive.
And he realised suddenly that it may quite possibly the nicest dress she owned.
She had dressed up for him.
It set off a new ache inside him.
He had to be wary here.
And not just for himself.
He could see in her the uncertainty he had noted before.
The way she stood, the ease forced. Leaning back against the diner window, attempting to look calm and slightly disgruntled at being made to wait.
Yet the tapping of her foot told.
Revealed anxiety and nervousness and depth beyond the external.
She wasn't sure that he would come either.
She had asked the question.
The words tumbling unrestrained from her on the downward ebbing breeze of delighted laughter.
Spur of the moment and out of her control the minute they had stumbled from her lips.
"Would you like to… to go get something to eat… with me…? Would you like to have dinner with me?"
He could still hear the happy chuckle that had preceded the question, and he could still see the sudden wave of surprise and mild horror as the combination of syllables had registered upon her.
Watched as their ramifications and meaning had settled upon her.
Felt exactly the same way as they filtered into his own mind.
And then he had been saying yes, as quickly as he could before she could take them back, brush them off, the thrill that she was feeling as good about their synchronicity as pleasurable to him as she was.
And there had been no thought of consequences inside him.
Just the warm gut feeling of a decision rightly made.
Author: Rianne.
Rating: T.
Summary: Take a journey back to San Francisco where it all began.
Disclaimer: My Name is Rianne and I am a CSI addict (what do you mean, not that kind of disclaimer?)
Author Notes: I have been feeling the urge lately to try out different things! This is my first Pre-CSI story! Hides behind computer as she waits to hear how it is received!
I know this idea has been often played with, so hopefully this is not too cliché.
This was originally inspired by the sweetest little place I saw on a holiday to Tenerife, way back in 2009 when I started writing this story! Stupid me forgot to find out the name of it, so I can't suggest it to travellers! Anyway, for the record I have never been to America, let alone San Francisco, so I have no idea if what I have planned for them is even geographically feasible within that city… but as it is a story I'm going with my heart! The story has become longer than I expected, so it is now multi-chapter.
I thought I would release the first chapter for you all to enjoy, Happy Valentines!x
Life Changing.
By Rianne.
Chapter One.
It was out of control.
He had never intended it to be.
He had somehow got away from himself.
Away from that shy, lurking part of his personality that floundered embarrassed and out of his depth outside the boundaries of science and lecturing and the things he knew.
His defences were down.
He could blame that on being out of Las Vegas, and that temptation filled vacation feel that San Francisco and its different kind of sunshine held for him.
Or he could try and blame it on the reawakened enjoyment he was feeling at being the teacher again, at having all those interested and impressionable students listening to his every word, or maybe not his every word, not all of them, he was a lot more realistic than that. He had looked up to some pretty bored faces over the last few days and even some closed eyelids and almost imperceptible snores.
Or maybe it was as simple as the fresher clearer air that was roaring off the San Francisco Bay… folks of days past had sworn that the sea air was good for the constitution.
He could blame anything he liked he was still here.
Waiting.
And wondering.
Wondering if he shouldn't be wondering more about the rapidity of his acceptance to go through with this.
At his unforeseen willingness to step into this new, uncomfortable, somewhat risky situation.
But he only found himself wondering about the woman behind the question.
"Would you like to… to go get something to eat… with me…? Would you like to have dinner with me?"
About her motives.
And about his, as he questioned if the intentions were the same on both sides.
About the bravado in her grin and yet the frightened flicker in her eyes.
The urges in him were there, unspoken but surprisingly strong.
He could have been wrong, but it certainly felt like there were temptations offered and wanted.
He shouldn't be here.
This was against every moral code he held true to as professor, educator, as a gentleman.
But even he could not deny that his intentions here were not as pure and as saintly as they should be.
He didn't want to be here as any of those three previously mentioned personas.
He wanted to be here as a man.
Had the unaccustomed urge to be seen for who he was, the genuine person and not the label he represented to the world.
No not an urge, a longing.
An ache to be known, just once.
There was the feel of holiday romance about it all.
Flirty, carefree, sweet.
And young.
Something he hadn't felt since he had spent that long, lazy summer with his aunt in his late teens and had been fascinated by the girl at the local bookstore, the girl who had smiled shyly at him and blushed when their fingers brushed as she returned his change.
There was a certain thrill of freedom about it.
He could be himself without any preconceived notions. She had no real prior knowledge beyond his being a professor of entomology. She didn't know his colleagues called him 'Gruesome Grissom', when they thought he couldn't hear them.
She knew nothing of his lonely existence, his solitary apartment, his working all the hours night-time sent.
All that wasn't an issue here.
There were instead new ideas.
New possibilities.
She seemed to genuinely share his interest in learning.
He was only here for three more days.
How much trouble could one little meeting cause?
What happens in San Francisco, stays in San Francisco?
He should know better.
He knew he should.
He knew what the Vegas version of those words could lead to. He had processed the leftovers, the murder, date rape, robbery, adultery, jail time, the bankruptcy…
But he didn't want to listen to that.
He wanted the innocence back.
And innocence exuded from her every pore.
And boy was he was drawn.
He had been rendered completely shell shocked by her first question.
Her voice different to what he expected, lower and older than her earnest expression and her words were even more so.
He had felt his jaw drop.
Had heard a rumble of surprise ripple around the auditorium.
Had felt the smugness in the assembled at one of them being able to stump the expert.
But she hadn't flinched, hadn't acted like she had stumbled into a huge faux pas, she had genuinely wanted to know.
And he, untrue to form had fumbled like the teenager who had not known how to talk to the shy pretty girl in the Rhode Island bookstore.
Yet she had acted as if she hadn't noticed.
Her attentive eyes and brain fixed on him as a knowledge source, almost as if they were the only two in the room.
And by the time he had managed to scrounge up an answer another question had been aimed right back at him.
Volleyed with ease.
And another until he had unwillingly apologised and suggested that they should all go get something for lunch as the next class was pressing their noses at the windows.
Yet she had approached him as the others had fled, disappearing relieved and hungry.
And the questions had continued.
The closer physical proximity fazing his brain.
The electric sparring had taken him completely by surprise.
How long since he had been that affected by any woman?
But watching her walk away at the end of the first lecture he had dismissed the spark.
His self-protective instincts had forced him to.
Had reminded him that it was most likely one-sided anyway.
Convinced himself to consider it a complete fluke.
At the most she might be a cute co-ed with a crush on her professor. He wasn't immodest, but it wasn't the first time.
But by the third class, the third day that week ending with her approaching him, not quite cautiously, but with a sense about her that she didn't want to be a bother, but she just had to know the answers to the things that she found perplexing, like she wouldn't be able to sleep without knowing.
And he had been more than willing to oblige her curiosity, hiding beneath the thinly veiled guise of educator, but he had not been prepared for the interest to develop.
A single feeling to take wing and rise.
Fluttering about in the quiet within him.
It had left him a bit stunned, he couldn't figure it out and so he carried on regardless of the vague warnings from his conscience, and despite his qualms that there was a tension building, and building rapidly, surprisingly over just the space of a few days.
Interest sparking from afar across the vastness of the lecture theatre.
He was painfully aware of her, the rapt attention she focused on him.
Knew without looking up where she had chosen to sit within the room at large.
And pretended hard that he wasn't affected.
Trying to dismiss all suggestions of a like mind and yet he was surprised over and over when she stole the words right out of his mouth.
He rarely met anyone who could match him in passion and intrigue.
And they certainly did not appear daily to challenge him in jeans and a t-shirt.
These were the best lectures he had ever given, he found himself striving to impress.
To impress her, and he didn't like to examine that too closely. He was afraid to.
And instead of ebbing as he had expected her interest too, this tension, it was getting stronger as she continued to approach the podium at the end of lectures instead of filtering out and back to her life as the other students did.
And today that fluttering inside him had smouldered into what could only be described as a warm licking flame.
Today had been different, she had seemed different, there had been a touch of a different kind of nervous tension between them as she had not even smiled in greeting before she had been instantly bombarding him with more questions. What could only have been described as a faint blush lighting her cheeks and a flustered ramble to her words. She had barely stopped for breath.
The questions of the past few days had been slow to build, starting simpler and through his answers spiralling up into realms of more complexity.
But something had been off today.
Made inherently curious by this new unknown fathom to her he had clumsily thrown out the suggestion of coffee. Wishing to calm her, maybe coffee had been the wrong beverage, relax her, stop her from fretting so.
His question had halted her mid-word.
Deep chocolate eyes had grown wide and questioning as her face had finally tilted up to meet his gaze.
The blush across the arch of her cheekbones had deepened and he might never admit it out loud, but her reaction had boosted the confidence of a man who had long since given up on the idea of a young woman finding him 'interesting…'
Even he couldn't hide from the obvious attraction burgeoning between them.
And from that single suggestion of his had come something fascinating and undeniable, something he didn't want to spoil by placing a name too, something which defied words, which intensely haloed their rapid give and take exchanges across the coffee shop table he had walked with her to in a blur.
It had ignited something.
Something in him that had only been mildly nudged before.
Something in him that he had presumed was to be left unexplored.
Something wanting.
Something missing.
It was brand new and as if he had known her forever.
She was young enough to be familiar with ease, had a defiant confidence only found in youth.
She had an intelligence that had left even him speechless.
A sharp alert mind that despite age challenged his, turned everything on its head.
He had been wrong to brand her on first blush, that was for certain.
Ashamed that he had labelled her young, from her ponytail with soft tendrils escaping, refusing to be restrained just like her mind, through her shapeless figure hiding t-shirt, down to the trailing jeans she had worn that first lecture, had labelled her far too innocent and doe eyed to be smart enough for his class.
And however dishevelled her appearance, lets face it, she had seemed far, far too pretty to wish to spend her time indoors with a bunch of socially awkward men and women, discussing insects and graphic depictions of crime scenes.
But it had been more than that.
More than just a flare of lust, or a physical interest.
Her whole being had set him alert.
She defied his skills of investigation.
Didn't fit neatly into his carefully categorised compartments.
If it was possible, he actually liked her even more for that.
For proving him wrong.
He needed to listen to what he preached. He was such a hypocrite. His whole lecture series had been based upon the premise that if the evidence changed so must the theory.
And this, this was all theories out of the window.
But he could do this, tempt himself beyond all reasonable thought, and still keep his all-important boundaries in place, still hold back.
He was sure of it. He could do that. He had too.
He looked down at his shoes. The empty cement sidewalk beneath him.
She was late.
Maybe she wasn't coming…
Maybe she had come to her senses.
She was probably amused as all get out to think about him waiting here alone for her half the night.
Poor weird socially backward scientist guy.
It was the truth in a way that didn't even sting him.
Not anymore.
He knew that was the way he presented himself.
It kept others out.
Kept the quiet solitude for him to concentrate on his studies, on his experiments, on his theories and puzzles.
This was a step outside himself.
He had to look strange waiting here.
Waiting alone just across the street from the secluded off campus coffee establishment that they had shared their invigorating conversation in that morning.
He avoided looking at his watch.
Maybe it had all been a game for her.
A bet or something more, an embarrassing scheme perhaps, a shameless attempt to smile pretty at the teacher, ask him out and maybe he'd give her an A.
But he didn't want to believe that.
He had been the focus of that kind of attention before, and thankfully after the first brutal school girl ambush circa 1970 had been naturally perceptive and wounded just enough to pre-empt such behaviours.
Those first attempted manipulations had come from simpering, scheming and devious females, the kind of girls who used to have him on his knees in high school, the ones he would have sunk to nothing for had they deemed him worthy enough to speak to, had they asked him to do their homework, as truly none of them would have found anything else of interest in him and eventually he had realised that they held no interest for him either.
And they had served him in good stead, once bitten a million times shy.
None of those women had been like Sara.
With Sara it felt different, like her interest had everything to do with his intelligence and about who he was, in equal measures. There had been laughter, freeing and comfortable. Waving in and out of a conversation that had ranged far and wide.
It could also have something to do with the fact that she couldn't have been born until the late sixties, if not the seventies.
Yet intelligence was their bridge.
As the coffee had all been consumed, the ceramic mugs so long empty that the pottery had cooled, she had started to shift in her seat, uncomfortable again as she had been before he had rescued her in the empty lecture theatre.
He sensed she had something to say, but the next question she had asked had been as unexpected as it was secretly pined for.
She had asked him out to dinner.
It was something in her eyes.
That had been what made her different from all the other women who had asked him that kind of question.
Such dark eyes.
Beseeching, lost, sad.
Lonely and yearning.
For what he couldn't be completely sure.
Attention, praise, education, knowledge, affection?
Yet as unfathomable as that expression was, that look was something he understood.
Something that grounded within him when their eyes met.
And more than that, it was the way she tried to hide it.
The way she stood taller than she should need to for her years.
The strength in her posture, the clear way she spoke, the intense way she absorbed.
He couldn't seem to stop watching her.
Taking her in.
The way she had sat mildly rigid as they had shared coffee, as if allowing herself to fidget would have given away more than she wanted too.
Like it or not she was his latest puzzle.
He liked puzzles.
And obsessive and unhealthy as that sounded he was ignoring the bleat of alarm bells.
He was a grown man. He could make decisions by himself.
He could make mistakes and if he didn't at least try he would be on his way back to Vegas kicking himself for his cowardice and plagued by his inability to let puzzles get away from him.
No. He would give her ten more minutes.
What else did he have awaiting him this evening?
An empty hotel room?
He fought the urge to check his watch again.
She couldn't be lost, or too far away.
It was her city, he had let her choose the place and the time.
He was a gentleman after all.
Had even made sure to leave the hotel early to make sure that he could find this place again.
He had showered, changed his clothes, shaved.
Avoided the word 'date' as it had tried to infiltrate its way into his head.
He had made the effort so far. Ten more minutes couldn't hurt.
And it wasn't like he had plans more impressive than room service or sitting alone at a restaurant.
Then he saw her, hurrying along towards the coffee bar.
Too far away for her to have noticed him yet, her attention fixated on the ground as her surprisingly long strides propelled her forwards, her brow creased with the consternation of someone regrettably late, and apologetic.
Someone formulating explanations or excuses.
Always thinking.
He just stared.
She had come.
Watched as she came to a halt across from him.
Watched as her gaze swept from side to side searching, but for whatever reason she never looked up and forward to where he watched.
He felt a slow smile spread as she instinctively checked her wrist for the time even though her wrist was empty tonight of the heavy timepiece she had worn earlier.
He watched the breath she took slide through her before she settled back, stepping under the overhang of the building as to not be as conspicuous in her waiting.
He couldn't take his eyes from her.
She looked beautiful.
The dying early evening light dappled over her skin.
No more jeans.
This evening the bay breeze rippled the pale fabric of her dress.
It was dated and ill fitting and definitely inexpensive.
And he realised suddenly that it may quite possibly the nicest dress she owned.
She had dressed up for him.
It set off a new ache inside him.
He had to be wary here.
And not just for himself.
He could see in her the uncertainty he had noted before.
The way she stood, the ease forced. Leaning back against the diner window, attempting to look calm and slightly disgruntled at being made to wait.
Yet the tapping of her foot told.
Revealed anxiety and nervousness and depth beyond the external.
She wasn't sure that he would come either.
She had asked the question.
The words tumbling unrestrained from her on the downward ebbing breeze of delighted laughter.
Spur of the moment and out of her control the minute they had stumbled from her lips.
"Would you like to… to go get something to eat… with me…? Would you like to have dinner with me?"
He could still hear the happy chuckle that had preceded the question, and he could still see the sudden wave of surprise and mild horror as the combination of syllables had registered upon her.
Watched as their ramifications and meaning had settled upon her.
Felt exactly the same way as they filtered into his own mind.
And then he had been saying yes, as quickly as he could before she could take them back, brush them off, the thrill that she was feeling as good about their synchronicity as pleasurable to him as she was.
And there had been no thought of consequences inside him.
Just the warm gut feeling of a decision rightly made.