Love, Anonymous

Chapter One - A Quiet Fascination

The afternoon was quiet and lazy, the kind that made people linger over their coffee a little longer than they intended. Sunlight streamed through the café windows, casting warm patches across the wooden tables. The air smelled of freshly ground coffee beans and sweet pastries, accompanied by the occasional clinking of cups and the low murmur of conversation.

Spencer sat alone at a small table by the window, lazily sipping his coffee. A sketchbook lay open in front of him, its pages as white and empty as they had been when he'd first arrived.

He stared at it for a moment, twirling his pencil between his fingers.

Nothing.

He'd been sitting there for nearly an hour, hoping inspiration would strike. It hadn't. Not that he was particularly surprised. Lately, everything seemed dull. Every face he tried to draw looked the same. Every idea felt like a waste of time.

He took another sip of coffee and leaned back in his chair, his black hair falling over his dark eyes. A few freckles dotted his nose and cheeks, barely visible beneath the shadows cast by his hair.

Maybe he should just go home.

He glanced at his blank sketchbook, then at the half-empty cup beside it.

He glanced at the time, sighed, and took one final sip before setting his cup down. He was just about to get up when—

Ding.

The wind chimes above the door rang softly as someone stepped inside.

Spencer glanced up, already half expecting another ordinary face in another ordinary afternoon.

Then he saw him.

Blond hair, slightly tousled, catching the sunlight streaming through the windows. Blue eyes that wandered curiously around the café. A smile that appeared when the barista greeted him, easy and bright, as though being kind to strangers came as naturally as breathing.

Spencer forgot how to breathe.

For a moment, everything else faded into the background. The conversations, the clinking cups, the hiss of the espresso machine—all of it disappeared beneath the sudden, deafening awareness of the boy standing by the counter.

Spencer had never believed in love at first sight.

He still wasn't sure he did.

But he couldn't look away.

He just couldn't seem to stop.

"What can I get for you?" the barista asked.

"An iced latte, please."

"Sure! Can I get a name for the order?"

"Ryan.”

Spencer heard him say it.

Ryan.

The name settled somewhere in the back of his mind, and he found himself repeating it silently, testing how it felt.

Ryan.

The boy smiled at the barista before stepping aside to wait for his drink, completely unaware of the dark-haired stranger watching him from across the room.

Spencer lowered his eyes to his sketchbook.

For the first time that afternoon, he had an idea of what to draw.

But first, he needed to get to know Ryan a little better.

Spencer glanced at the boy, who was still waiting at the counter, then quietly began packing his things. He slipped his sketchbook into his bag, tucked his pencil case away, and finished the last of his coffee.

Just as the barista handed Ryan his drink, Spencer stood up.

Perfect timing.

He slung his bag over his shoulder and walked out of the café a few seconds after Ryan.

Ten steps behind. Not too close, not too far.

Ryan turned right at the corner.

Spencer turned right.

Ryan stopped to check his phone.

Spencer slowed down, pretending to examine the window display of a nearby shop.

Ryan started walking again.

So did Spencer.

At the next intersection, Ryan turned left.

Spencer followed.

Then Ryan crossed the street, weaving casually between a couple of pedestrians.

Spencer waited for a passing car before crossing after him.

He kept his distance, careful not to draw attention to himself. Ryan seemed entirely oblivious to his presence, sipping his iced latte as he walked, occasionally glancing at his phone and smiling at whatever he saw on the screen.

Spencer wondered what could possibly make him smile like that.

A message from a friend? A funny video? Someone special?

The thought of the last possibility stirred something unpleasant in his chest.

He pushed it aside.

He didn't even know the guy. He had no reason to care who Ryan talked to or who made him smile.

He was simply curious.

That was all.

At least, that's what he told himself as he continued following Ryan down the street.

Ryan eventually stopped in front of a small bookstore tucked between a flower shop and a convenience store.

Spencer slowed his pace, watching as Ryan pushed open the glass door and stepped inside. A little bell jingled above him.

Interesting.

Spencer lingered outside, pretending to examine the books displayed in the window. Through the glass, he could see Ryan greeting the cashier with a cheerful smile.

"Hey! You're early today," the cashier said.

"Yeah, figured I'd grab something to drink before my shift."

Spencer watched as Ryan disappeared behind the counter. He took off his jacket, hung it on a hook, and slipped into a dark apron before tying it around his waist.

Oh.

So Ryan worked here.

A small smile tugged at Spencer's lips.

He watched a little longer as Ryan began sorting through a stack of books, carrying them between the shelves and carefully sliding each one into its proper place. Every now and then, someone approached him with a question, and Ryan answered with the same easy smile he'd worn at the café.

He seemed to enjoy talking to people. Even strangers.

Spencer wondered what that was like.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd smiled at someone without having a reason to.

He shifted his bag higher on his shoulder and took another look at the bookstore, noting its name, the entrance, and the rows of shelves visible through the windows.

Then his gaze returned to Ryan.

The blond was standing on his toes, reaching for a book on the top shelf. When he finally managed to grab it, he looked rather pleased with himself.

Spencer almost laughed.

Almost.

He lingered for another moment, committing the sight to memory before turning away.

He had somewhere to be, after all.

And now, he knew where to find Ryan.