You were beautiful. Not just “pretty,” not “cute” — no, you were striking. The kind of stunning that could stop a room. But you didn’t seem to know it.

Sure, you were aware you weren’t unattractive — every so often someone would get brave and try to flirt — but it never happened all that often. Most people, it turned out, found you intimidating. Not because of anything you said, but because of what you didn’t.

What you heard most, after people got to know you, was always the same: "I thought you didn’t like me at first."

That’s when you realized it. The resting face, one that kids would call a resting bitch face. The one that made you look a little distant, a little hard to read. Not mean — just… uninviting. Pair that with your beauty, and it created a sort of forcefield. Some people assumed you were cold. Others assumed you'd slap them just for saying hi. Not Spencer Reid.

Spencer had been watching you for close to ten minutes now. He didn’t mean to stare, but he couldn’t help himself — you were sitting cross-legged on the oversized couch at the local library, completely lost in your book. And you weren’t just reading it — you were reacting to it. Smiling. Laughing under your breath. Brow furrowing at the twists. It was like watching someone watch a movie only they could see.

And God, it made you look adorable. Spencer had already registered that you were gorgeous — he’d known that the second he walked in — but now, with the sunlight falling through the window onto your face and the corners of your lips curled in amusement? He couldn’t not look.

You were radiant. You were expressive and focused and fascinating — and you smiled like you didn’t know how beautiful that smile was. And then… you caught him. Your eyes lifted from the page and locked with his, those warm, knowing eyes meeting his startled hazel ones across the room.

And you smiled. At him.

Not a forced or awkward smile — but a genuine one. Small, sweet, effortless. The kind that made Spencer feel like maybe — just maybe — he hadn’t been wrong about you. You weren’t unapproachable at all. So, cautiously — heart pounding, hands in his pockets like a boy out of place — Spencer crossed the room. He sat down beside you on the couch, careful not to invade your space, and glanced sideways with just a hint of shyness.

“Uhm— hello,” he managed, voice slightly higher than usual.