The air was cooler now, whispering with the promise of autumn. The sun slanted lower in the sky, casting golden beams that wrapped the streets of Greystone in a soft glow. Outside her bookstore, Elena stood quietly, watching as the leaves danced across the cobblestones. Her arms were crossed loosely over her cardigan, the breeze gently tugging at the fabric.
The streets were relatively quiet, a lull in the usual hum of town life. A few familiar faces passed by, offering her nods or small waves. She returned them absently, her thoughts elsewhere—more specifically, with someone else.
Drew.
It had been five days since the market. Five days since the way his voice had wrapped around her name with a kind of reverence. Since the look in his eyes had lingered too long, too curiously.
She hadn't expected to see him again, not really. People in Greystone often drifted in and out—tourists, weekenders, hopeful artists who romanticized quiet towns and open skies. But something about Drew felt different. As though his presence wasn't fleeting, but rather, fated.
The soft chime of the doorbell pulled her out of her reverie. She turned just in time to see the door swing open.
"Is this where you hide during the day?"
She blinked. Then smiled.
Drew stood at the threshold with a coffee in one hand and his camera bag slung across his chest. His hair looked slightly windswept, and his expression was an easy mix of confidence and curiosity.
"Hide?" she echoed, arching a brow. "It's called working."
"Working behind a wall of books," he teased, stepping inside. "Seems suspicious."
"I'd argue it's the opposite. Books don't lie."
"They just wait quietly until you're ready," he said, his eyes scanning the rows of spines.
Elena tilted her head, caught off guard by the observation. "That's... surprisingly poetic."
Drew shrugged. "I've been reading more since I met you. Blame the influence."
She chuckled softly. "Careful. I might start charging you for personality upgrades."
He grinned, setting his coffee down on the counter. "In that case, I'm here for a recommendation."
Elena reached for a small stack near the register. "What are we looking for today? Escapism? Heartbreak? Enlightenment?"
"Something that makes me feel," he said without hesitation.
Her hands paused. She studied him, the gentle seriousness in his expression. Then, she handed him a thin volume of poetry. "Try this."
He took the book, flipping it open to a random page. He read in silence for a moment, then looked up.
"Do you have a favorite poem?"
"I do," she said softly. "Page thirty-nine."
He turned to it, then read aloud:
"She lived quietly, But her heart was a tempest, And every glance she gave the world Was a wave crashing in disguise."
When he finished, the silence in the room stretched. Drew looked at her, and for a moment, Elena felt something in her chest shift.
"That's beautiful," he said.
"Thank you," she replied. "I wrote it."
His eyes widened. "Seriously?"
She nodded.
"That's... incredible," he said. "Why didn't you say something before?"
She shrugged. "You never asked."
He laughed quietly, shaking his head. "Elena Martin. Full of surprises."
She leaned against the counter, pretending to focus on tidying a display. "We all are, if you look close enough."
Later that evening, as the bookstore closed and twilight painted the sky in shades of lavender and rose, Drew returned.
He waited outside, camera in hand. Elena found him leaning against the lamppost, the lens cap dangling from his fingers.
"I was hoping you hadn't vanished," he said.
"I live upstairs," she replied. "So technically, I did."
He smiled. "Fancy a walk?"
She hesitated, then nodded. "Sure."
The streets were quiet, the world slowing down for the night. They walked side by side, hands brushing now and then, never quite meeting. The tension was soft, like a string gently tugging at the edges of something unspoken.
"Where are we going?" she asked.
"Nowhere," he said. "Everywhere."
She laughed. "How mysterious of you."
"It's just a walk," he said. "But you make it feel like a journey."
The words landed somewhere deep. Elena didn't reply. Instead, she looked up. The stars were beginning to appear.
"Do you ever feel small under the sky?" she asked.
Drew followed her gaze. "Sometimes. But not in a bad way. More like... grateful. Like I'm part of something infinite."
They walked until they reached the old train bridge just outside the town's edge. The tracks hadn't been used in years, and wildflowers grew along the rails. Drew led her to the edge, where the wooden beams overlooked a slow-moving creek below.
They sat there in silence, legs dangling, the world around them fading into dusk.
"I used to come here when I was younger," Elena said, voice barely above a whisper. "When I needed to breathe."
"It's beautiful," Drew murmured. "And quiet."
"Like the books," she said.
"Like you."
She turned to him. He was watching her again—intently, with that open kind of gaze that made her want to hide and reach out all at once.
"I don't know why I'm here," he admitted. "I told myself it was for the scenery. The escape. But I think it might be something else."
She waited.
"You," he said simply.
Elena felt the words settle in her chest like a stone, heavy but not unwelcome. "You don't even know me."
"Maybe not. But I want to."
And just like that, something in her heart opened.
They didn't kiss that night.
But they sat there for hours, watching the stars bloom one by one, until the sky was a canvas of constellations and the creek below whispered secrets only the night could hold.
When Drew finally walked her home, the silence between them was gentle. He didn't ask to come in. He didn't push.
"Goodnight, Elena," he said.
She smiled. "Goodnight, Drew."
As she watched him disappear down the street, Elena felt the shift again. Something soft and uncertain stirring inside her.
Love, she realized, didn't always arrive with fireworks. Sometimes, it came on quiet feet, under starlight, and with the sound of a voice that made you feel seen.