Her blonde hair fell over her shoulders in loose curls and she was fiddling with her necklace, scanning the room with glassy eyes and a twisting mouth. He recognised it at once— she was trying not to cry. 
Without looking back at or saying a word to Jensen, without even seeming to realise Hadley was there at all, she stepped swiftly down and shot across the room towards the bar where Charlotte was sitting. Her steps were brisk and contained, and her body was taut and tense, her left arm locked at her side and her right hand still fixed on her necklace.
He watched as she pulled out the stool that had been saved for her. She slipped onto it, neat and swift, and leaned towards Charlotte, her dark eyes wide and focused, and her mouth moving so quickly that it began to make him feel dizzy.
Charlotte took Elodie's hands in her own, using her hands as a kind of shell that she clasped Elodie's inside. Her thin, dark eyebrows drew into a frown and her bright eyes were solemn. Her stern mouth was gently pursed and she seemed to be intentionally ignoring another friend of theirs who had approached them with a concerned frown and who looked sharply— suddenly— at Hadley.
Uneasily, he turned away and looked back at the door, and his breath caught in his throat. 
There he was, beautiful and tender, his eyes already locked on Hadley. His face was pulled into a gentle frown and there was a softness in his gaze that Jensen, who had opened his phone, did not notice.
Without looking up from his screen, Jensen said something quickly— which Spencer did not acknowledge— and came down the steps, distracted by a text message.
Spencer remained where he was and they stared at each other. With a discreet, almost invisible nod of his head, he gestured towards the door and Hadley, not daring to look back, followed him.
As he led the way towards the kitchen, Hadley hurried so that they could fall in step beside each other and he eagerly glanced at that nervous face.
He could hardly stop looking. There was something unspoken between them by then that he could not name; something about Spencer that made him recognise himself that he felt unable to let go of.
His brows and mouth were slightly furrowed, his eyes were bright and clear, and he moved his body as naturally, as beautifully, as he always did.
Hadley eyed his composure enviously.
He always had the sensation of coming apart and slipping away from himself, but Spencer made everything look so easy; so controlled. Even his bursts of anger, like in the office, had a kind of dramatic elegance and balance; an element of performance that was so fluid.
They disappeared into the kitchen together and Hadley closed the door behind them. He walked up the three steps leading up to the platform where the dining table was while Spencer pushed open one of the patio doors, then sat down in the closest chair. He angled his body towards the crisp, night air and Hadley, pulling out the seat beside him, stared out towards the black sky. Their knees knocked together.
Spencer glanced towards where they touched and threw him a smile.
A silent moment hung over them.
Clearing his throat, Hadley, who had been staring at their legs, looked up at him and quietly said, "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that you spoke to Elodie about her not wanting us to hang out."
He gave a wry smile and shrugged. His voice came clear and soft and easy. "Our friendship makes her uncomfortable no matter how I approach it."
Refusing to drop his gaze, he studied the angle of that lovely, thoughtful face; the smooth, narrow line of his jaw, the crooked nose bridge, the soft slope between the curve of his cheekbone and his grazing lower lashes, the candid glitter in his eyes.