Lila was in Washington DC promoting her newest movie, a political thriller. She never would have believed that being stalked would take her career from bouncing around in a bikini on a fake beach to being cast in a Clint Eastwood-directed, critically acclaimed movie. She also would have never believed that she would become a stalker herself.
So, okay, not really a stalker stalker, she just wanted to see Spencer Reid again and the easiest way to do that was to get her manager to find out his home address and cell number. Really, the easiest way to do this was to give him a call and have him meet her but she didn't want to interrupt him if he was working a case. So she hid her face with sunglasses, hid her trademark blond hair with a baseball cap and went to his apartment. She saw him just as he was walking out of the building. The way he walked, with a purpose, with single minded intent, stopped her from calling out but didn't stop her from following him.
He stopped at a seriously cozy coffee shop and ducked inside. Every one of the few tables was surrounded by booth seating, high and cushioned. Soft velvet met her fingertips as she stole into a booth directly across from Spencer, seating herself so that she could see his reflection in a mirror but he couldn't see her. Candles lit the tables, white linen helped reflect what little light there was, throbbing jazz played softly in the background, waiters moved smoothly and unobtrusively as possible. It was a romantic place, some place you would take a date. Especially if you wanted to impress them.
Thinking about Spencer's clothes, she realized he was here for a date. Instead of wearing his usual corduroys and awful sweater vest, Spencer wore pants that had clung to his long legs and a long-sleeved v-neck t-shirt that looked touchably soft. His hair was different than her memories, feathered layers that caressed his jaw and cheeks, that invited the touch of fingers. He looked as if he'd been dressed by a woman who knew what she was doing.
A tall dark haired man joined Spencer. She blinked, shocked statue-still, as Spencer tilted back, asking for and receiving a kiss. She jolted with another shock, realizing she knew Spencer's date. She couldn't remember his name, but she knew he was Spencer's boss. She watched as they ordered and talked, smiling, touching, sharing their plates. Being a couple.
It was painful to watch. It hurt, seeing Spencer so happy, so normal, with someone he obviously loved. Who obviously cherished him. It was in every touch, every look, even in the reflection, Lila could tell they were in love. Her eyebrow went up. They were also seriously serious about their PDAs.
They were kissing, Spencer's boyfriend was cupping his neck, thumb smoothing along the charming line of Spencer's jaw. Spencer was practically in his boyfriend's lap, one fluttery, graceful hand cupping a shoulder, tugging on his lover's tie with the other. The boyfriend lifted Spencer to straddle his lap, blocking her view of their scorching kisses but gave her a great view of big hands rucking up the shirt to reveal Spencer's creamy back. One of those big hands headed south, cupping Spencer's ass, dragging him impossibly closer.
Lila slapped her hand over her mouth when she realized Spencer's pants here gapping in the back, as if the button and zipper had been undone. Squinting hard, her suspicions were confirmed, the ends of Spencer's belt flicked about unanchored. Spencer undulated in his boyfriend's lap, hands nowhere to be seen.
Frottage in a café. She would have never thought Spencer capable of it. She knew she should get out of there before he noticed her but she couldn't. She was pinned to her seat, determined to see this through. Eons later, Spencer threw his head back, soft moan taken away by the jazz, hips stuttering to a stop. Those hands clutched at Spencer's hips for a hard, hard second before they relaxed, sliding up Spencer's back and into that touchable hair. They were kissing again, lazy, sated, in love.
She slipped away. Once outside, she kissed her fingertips, pressing them to the café's glass window, saying good-bye to what might have been.