Anon watched Starlight scribble on parchment at the table in a strip of sunlight filtering through the inn curtains. Her eyes flitted between two books and she occasionally sipped coffee.

He’d walked around campus, gotten lunch, visited a museum, a theater, marched with underpaid grad students, and listened to a few sets in a bar, and when he returned, she was in the same spot he’d left her. He dropped his magazine, got out of bed and sat behind her.

Starlight was undisturbed. She continued etching symbols and Latin phrases on her parchment. Her mane smelled of lilac and shined like silk.

Anon paused. He wanted her to relax, to take a break, and—though he knew it was selfish—to spend time with him. He tapped his fingers against his leg, then started. The muses had struck him with a sinister idea.

Anon leaned closer to Starlight and kissed her neck. Her ear twitched. He grinned. He wrapped his arms around her and placed another kiss on her poll. Her body stiffened, but her quill continued. Anon pressed his lips to her crest. She shivered. He kissed down her neck. Her tail hit him. He kissed her back. Her quill paused.

Success. Anon rested his lips against her mane. Starlight turned her head, mouth curled, eyes lidded.

“Anon,” she said.

“Hm?”

“Can you stop? I’m trying to concentrate.”

Failure. Damn you, muses. “Uh, yeah,” he said. He decoupled himself from her, stood, then plopped back onto the bed. He schemed.

Starlight’s quill resumed its steady march.

Anon’s stomach lurched. He was still having trouble with food. Who knew being skewered could be so detrimental to the digestive tract? Then another idea hit him. He sat up and looked out the window. He just had to do some shopping.

“I’ll be right back,” Anon said. Starlight gave him an absent nod.

Anon’s idea required he search several different locations. He was gone for about an hour. One of the items was scarce to the point of frustration in University City. When he returned, carrying two large, paper bags, Starlight was still at the table. Legendary dedication. He placed the bags on the bed and withdrew several wrapped parcels.

“Hey, Starlight, you hungry?”

She hummed, but continued writing.

Anon sat beside her with one of the parcels and unwrapped it. It contained cubed mangoes. He plucked one and popped it into his mouth.

Starlight’s eyes remained on her work.

He plucked another and looked at her. He held it out in his palm. “Want one?”

Starlight sniffed. Her concentration was unwavering, but the cube became alight and floated to her lips. She ate it.

Anon placed the mangoes on the table, then grabbed the other parcels from the bed. He unwrapped them in succession: apple slices, pineapples, cherries, and chocolate covered strawberries. The room became fragrant, like a fruit stall. He popped an apple into his mouth. It was crisp and refreshing. Then he held one out to Starlight. She glanced to it, then turned to it and ate it from between his fingers.

Anon chuckled. He picked up a cherry and munched it. Ow, a pit. He chewed around it. A cup floated in front of his face. He looked at Starlight; she flipped a page. He took the cup and spit the pit into it. He took another cherry between his teeth by the stem and grinned at Starlight.

Starlight turned toward him. She smiled and rolled her eyes, then kissed him and plucked the cherry from his teeth. She chewed it, then showed him the pit between her front teeth. She dropped it in the cup. Then her eyes were on her work.

Anon picked up a chocolate covered strawberry. He bit it to the leaf. It burst juice in his mouth. It was sweet, creamy, and tart, a perfect flavor combination. He dropped the leaf in the cup, too, then held up another one. He looked at Starlight.

She looked at the strawberry. Her eyes met his. Her quill stopped and fell against the page. She turned toward him and stood, then placed a hoof on his chest and pushed. Anon fell backward. Starlight was standing over him now, smirking.

Anon placed the strawberry against her lips. She brushed them across the chocolate coating, then bit into it. Some juice squirted onto his cheek. Starlight giggled.

Starlight lowered atop him and floated the strawberry parcel from the table. She stared down at him. Her eyes were polished sapphires. She pressed a strawberry to his lips. Anon took the front half between his teeth, then she grabbed the back half. He bit off his portion and Starlight ate the rest, leaf and all. She chuckled at his surprised face.

She put another one in her mouth and chewed as she looked at him. Her tail swished across his legs. After she swallowed, she lowered her face to his and licked the juice from his cheek.

Anon pressed his lips to her. Her mouth were soft, sweet. Then she pulled away from him. She stood, swished her tail, and returned to her seat. She resumed her studies.

Anon remained down for a while, recovering. When he sat up, he huffed. He watched Starlight write and slouched. He’d been close to pulling her away, but now he was stuck at half-mast. He had one ploy remaining. He took the second bag from the bed and withdrew a wine bottle. It’d taken him a while to find; U of F was a dry campus. Awful. He removed the box that had been beneath the wine bottle. It contained two glasses.

He set the glasses on the table and poured wine into one. “Want any? It’s, uh, vintage.”

Starlight nodded.

Great, now he was getting somewhere. He filled the second glass and pushed it toward her. He lifted his glass and grinned “Cheers?”

Starlight’s glass lifted and tapped against his, then she placed it on the table without drinking.

Anon watched her over his glass and sipped. Damn. He swirled his wine because it seemed fancy. He took another sip. It tasted a little nutty. “Pretty good.” He set down his glass. “Busy day, huh?”

Starlight nodded. Her glass lifted to her lips. Anon leaned in. She took a tiny sip. He sank.

Anon looked into his wine glass. Could have used more sugar. Did sugar go in wine? He grumbled and gave his leg an impatient tap. He took another look at Starlight. Looked like the day was a wash. He downed his glass and groaned. “Going to get some air,” he grumbled, then stood fast. Too fast. His leg bumped the table and Starlight’s glass teetered, then tipped. He watched, horrified, as it spilled across her parchment.

Starlight’s eyes were wide. “No, no, no, no!”

“Oh, shit,” Anon said. “I didn’t mean to!” He picked up her glass and looked around. “Uh, I’ll get a towel.” He hurried into the bathroom and grabbed a towel, then heard a flash. When he returned, Starlight was gone, her parchment and books gone with her.

Anon kneeled in front of the table and wiped away the spilled wine. He looked at the stained towel. “Damn…”

--

Anon walked the campus for an hour. The sun was setting. He found a bench across from the library and sat. He’d waited for Starlight to return for a while, but the solitude agitated him. He wondered how angry she was. Guessing made him uncomfortable.

At least she’d have to return to the room, or so Anon assumed. He rubbed the top of his head, then dragged his hand to his neck. He lifted his head. He squinted through the library window, then jumped to his feet. Starlight was sitting at a table. What was she doing in the library? Whatever. Anon fast walked into the library. The central corridor was tall and long and started at a circular desk, at the center of which was a large, black column with a number of closed slots.

The cream-colored mare behind the desk looked over her glasses. “May I help you?”

“No,” he said and rushed by her, but found his feet missed the ground. He was levitated to the desk.

“Students and alumni only,” the mare said. “I assume you are neither.”

“Oh, I’ve got my id card right here…” he pretended to look in his pockets, then mimicked a shocked expression. “What is she doing to that book!”

The mare turned her head and Anon ran past.

“Hey!” she yelled after him. He was about to round a corner, but her aura trapped him and dragged him to the entrance.

Anon folded his arms as he was tossed out the door, on his ass. “Bitch…” He stood and brushed his pants, then walked around the building’s edge, past a few more, large windows, and came to a closed steel door tucked behind a bush. He jiggled the handle. Locked. He pressed his ear to it. There were voices beyond; they sounded like stallions. He pressed his back to the building as the door swung open. Two large earth ponies walked out, both in white hats and shirts, one pulling a trash can. Anon grabbed the handle before the door shut and slipped inside.

He was in a dark storeroom. There were rows of metal shelves with paint, cleaning supplies, rags, etc. Anon crept through the rows toward a lit doorway. He touched the wooden pane and pushed it. He stuck his head out, then snatched it back in. He was behind the front desk. He peeked. The librarian was sifting forms. She looked up on occasion to greet an entering student or push a book into one of the chutes.

Anon could sneak past her. She wasn’t even on his side of the desk. He pushed the door and prepared to dash, but the steel door opened behind him. He flinched and turned his head. The stallions entered, laughing, then froze. They stared at him. He stared at them.

“What in Tartarus are you doing here?” One asked.

Anon shot from the storage room, down the central corridor.

“Hey! Wait!” the stallion said.

Anon ran into a room labeled “classics,” a forest of book cases separated by the occasional card catalogue, and ducked between shelves. He heard hoofbeats pass and sighed. After a couple of minutes, he risked a peek. The room was empty. He traveled the stacks, to the next room. It was x-shaped, beneath a large, decorative chandelier and a balcony. Anon rotated. The first path led to books, the second to books, the third to books and a heliotrope unicorn. Anon rubbed his chin for a moment, then stopped for a double-take. That heliotrope unicorn was Starlight. She passed the corridor, her nose in a book.

“Starlight!” He called. He ran toward her, grin wide, heart beating a jubilant tune. He rounded a shelf, and smacked into a hardcover.

As Anon regained his senses, he felt his back dragging across the marble floor. He looked up and blinked away haze. He was being dragged by those stallions, and they in turn were led by the librarian. They took him to the entrance, then threw him out on his face. He grumbled as they reentered the building.

“What are you doing?” Starlight said.

Anon lifted his head. She stood above him, head tilted. He sat up and rubbed the back of his head. “Uh, looking for you.”

“In the dirt?”

“Well, you never know,” Anon said. “You might have shrunk.”

Starlight sat beside him. There was a fresh parchment floating beside her. She lowered it into her hooves.

“Sorry messed up your notes,” Anon said.

Starlight looked at him, then to the parchment. “It’s alright. Sorry I left without saying anything. I wanted to get here before I forgot what I’d written.”

“What is it, anyway?”

Starlight smiled. “I’ll show you.” Her horn lit—a bright, building glow. Anon had trouble keeping his eyes open. And then it flashed. He saw spots.

When the spots left, Anon blinked. Then he blinked again time and looked around. “Woah.”

They were atop an open tholos above the clouds. The sun kissed the western horizon and the moon crested in the east. There was a slight breeze. The floor and columns shined like black onyx. In the room’s center was a small table topped by candle and two sets of tableware.

“Do you like it?” Starlight said. She was in a red dress that hugged her figure.

“Beautiful…” he said.

“Thanks, I worked really hard on it,” Starlight said, looking toward the sunset. “I just wanted to take you somewhere special.”

Anon admired the view with her.

“And that’s not all!” Starlight’s horn lit. The wind slowed. It gasped, then whispered, then whistled. It carried a song, a light serenade, pleasing and slow.

Anon listened in silence, then he crouched and extended his hand to Starlight.

She lifted a hesitant hoof and lowered it in his palm. He took the other hoof, too, and lifted her so she stood on her hindlegs.

“W-what are you doing?”

Anon grinned. “When’s the last time you danced?”

“Never like this.”

“Then I’ll show you.”

And so, they danced. First it was slow, clumsy. But as they went, they grew comfortable with their footing, with the floor, with each other. It was a good dance.