Eponine knocked firmly on the door, clutching her dripping wet trench coat with her other hand, trying to shiver as little as possible as the freezing raindrops crawled slowly down her icy skin. "Dammit," she muttered, kicking the door a little more forcefully than she meant to with her combat boots. She heard a noise from inside and heard someone run up to get the door.
"Who is it?" someone asked from inside; Eponine mistook the voice for her friend, Grantaire's. She had practically lived with him throughout high school back when her life really sucked. Her parents had never noticed, or they never cared.
"You know damn well who it is, open the fucking door," she answered, having to yell over the pouring rain and loud wind smacking against the window, "I texted you an hour ago," she said, knocking on the door again. When the door finally opened, Eponine ran inside, barely glancing at the man who opened the door for her as she pulled her soaked shoes and coat off and threw them on the floor.
"Tell me again who you are and what you're doing in my apartment?" he asked, she jumped around, surprised at the unfamiliar guy who was now picking up her coat and hanging it on the door. After thinking for a minute, she sighed.
"Sorry. I'm Eponine. I know Grantaire, your roommate? I'm in a shitty situation and he said I could stay with him for a while-," she said, and then noticed his shocked expression, "this might be the wrong place. Dammit."
He shook his head, still eyeing her cautiously. "No, this is Grantaire's place. You're the old high school best friend, right? He hasn't said anything about you staying with us…" he said, "I mean- you can still stay here. He was probably drunk when he told you that or something. Anyways, he's not here, He's staying with his boyfriend somewhere. Sorry, you still wanna stay here?" he asked, "I'm Courfeyrac, by the way."
She smiled and pulled off her over shirt, which was just as soaked through as the rest of her clothing, and dropped it on the floor, "I don't have anywhere else to go. I took a bus for three hours to get here, and I'm broke as fuck," she shrugged, and then went to sit on the couch, disregarding the fact that her pants and hair were still dripping. He didn't seem to mind; he picked up her over shirt and put it in the laundry basket. She began to shiver uncontrollably as she looked at him. He was definitely attractive, with dark curly hair and creamy skin and steely blue eyes.
"You're more than welcome to stay here," he answered, smiling. There was something he liked about her, maybe it was the way she strutted into his apartment so confidently, dripping water over half of the living room and demanding a place to stay. He turned back towards her; she was pretty, too, despite the fact that her face was bright red from walking around in the wind and rain, and long hair was extremely tangled. Her white tank top and ripped skinny jeans were both damp, clinging so tightly to her tiny body that he felt horribly guilty for looking, and she was shivering. He rushed over to get a blanket and draped it over her. She smiled and bit her slightly blue lip.
"Are you alright?" he asked, sitting down next to her on the couch, "Do you want me to get you anything? Can you tell me about yourself?"
"I-I'll be alright," she said, shivering a little less now, "I'm Eponine. I'm twenty-one. I'm straight. I've known Grantaire since I was thirteen, anything else you want to know?" she asked, holding the blanket more tightly around herself.
"I kind of want to know why the hell a twenty-one year old girl is running around in San Francisco after midnight during a storm," he said, and she glared at him.
"My life is private, I've known you for less than five minutes," she snapped. He laughed, "What?" she demanded.
"Sweetheart, you're living in my house," he cooed.
"I'd hardly call this beat up tiny apartment in the most run-down neighborhood in the city a 'house'," she remarked. He laughed again, "Stop being a dick."
He sighed, smiling, and wondering what he had gotten himself into. He really did like her, with her fierce snarky comments and the way she carried herself, not caring at all what he thought of her. He could already tell she knew how to get what she wanted, and she seemed dangerous, and god she was pretty.
He laughed in disbelief; he had never met a girl anything like this before. "Do you even want to stay here?" he teased.
"Oh, please," she smirked, "like you'd kick me out." She pulled her feet up underneath herself and held the blanket tighter, still shivering.
"You don't know me," he insisted, "what makes you think I wouldn't?" he asked, and she finally smiled at him.
"You like me," she said, smugly.
"You walk in here, drip water over everything, insult my apartment, and then make weird ass accusations. No, babe, I actually don't like you too much. Sorry," he lied, and she giggled. He was so proud of himself for managing to actually make her loosen up a little and smile, especially since it had only been a few minutes.
"Yeah, you do," she sang, "I know how to read people. I could probably guess a shit ton of other stuff about you," she shivered, rubbing her arm "do you have another blanket?" she asked.
He shook his head, feeling bad, and then said, "There's one on the bed in my room."
She smiled, still shivering but trying to hide it, "nah, never mind. I'll be fine, I'm just whining," she said, suddenly feeling like she was going to burst into tears. She had gone through a lot in these past few hours, which was why she had ended up here. She was extremely stressed and had no idea what she was going to do after this, and she was sort of in a lot of trouble.
"I'll go get it," he assured her, smiling gently, and then noticing how distraught she looked, "Eponine?" he asked.
She looked up at him; it really was nice of him to let her stay here, especially considering what a bitch she could be, "I'm fine," she said, her voice sounding colder than she meant.
He looked at her and smiled, nodding his head skeptically.
"What?" she asked, pushing her long wet hair off her shoulders and draping it over the side of the couch. He smiled again, rolling her eyes and putting his feet on the coffee table. He shrugged, "no, really, I want to know exactly what you're thinking," she insisted, annoyed at his amused glances at her.
"You're very beautiful," he said, looking straight into her eyes in a way that made her instinctively look at the floor.
"Don't even try that on me," she said harshly, but unable to hold in a giggle.
"I'm just being honest," he said, "and honestly, I feel a little uncomfortable with you not telling me what's going on with you. I mean I'd love you to stay, but I'd just like to go to sleep assured that no one's going to come break down the door looking for you," he said. She smiled, stretching her legs out and placing her feet on his lap.
"You'd love me to stay? I have to admit, I don't get that too often," she said, almost whispering and still smiling. She definitely liked him, and she felt uncomfortable with that, having dealt with numerous shady people in her life. He didn't seem like that at all though, a little too open and flirtatious, maybe, but there wasn't much wrong with that.
"Don't get the wrong idea, babe," he said, picking her legs up and dropping them on the floor.
"I never get the wrong idea," she said, scooting a little closer to him.
He eyed her suspiciously, a smile creeping up on his face as her damp knee touched his thigh, "I'm not sleeping with you until you tell me who you are and what happened to you," he teased. She punched him on the shoulder.
"I was not hitting on you," she said, trying to make her voice sound annoyed, but really she was just amused. He was sweet, and very attractive, and funny.
He laughed, relieved that she had lightened up a little, "but everyone hits on me." He placed his hand on her knee. She blushed, although it was barely visible on her still wet olive skin.
"Your ego is horrible," she laughed, "do you have a bath?"
He shook his head, "No, I'm afraid we don't have those," he replied, sarcastically, "I normally just stand on the porch and use the hose."
She giggled, "No you don't. I'm going to go find it myself," she insisted, getting up and walking to the back. He shook his head, laughing as he heard the water come on; she was so ridiculously demanding, and so pretty. The kind of girl he could really fall for. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Grantaire's number.
"Hey, what's up?" he asked.
"Why is your high school best friend living at our house?" Courfeyrac demanded, hearing Grantaire laugh on the other side.
"Oh, shit…I might have told her she could? I've missed her, it's been six years, and I know she's been in some trouble lately. She called me and asked if I knew of a place to stay, and I just told her to stay with me and my roommate. I supposed I should have asked. Anyways, do you like her?" he asked. Courfeyrac lay down on the couch and laughed.
"Do I like her? Grantaire, she's insane, beautiful, but insane. Also, what the hell kind of trouble is she in?" he demanded.
"You'll get used to her. It sounds like you already have,"
"Grantaire," he sighed, noting to keep his voice down as he heard the water shut off.
"I'll sort it out when I get back. She's really great, I promise. I know she can be a little…abrasive. Also don't do anything," he said.
"A little abrasive?" he laughed, "and what do you mean don't do anything? I think she likes me. Anyways how is your boyfriend?"
"She doesn't like anyone. She barely even likes me. Don't get your hopes up. He's perfect and hot, as always. Thank you for asking," he answered, smiling. Courfeyrac heard the bathroom door creak open.
"He's not as hot as me, and last time I asked you, you didn't say perfect. I know you two always fight. Anyways, your friend just got out of the bath, so I think I should go. Also, I hope you know it's one in the morning," he said, almost dropping his phone on the floor as Eponine appeared in the hallway. She looked different than when she had stormed in through the door, all sopping wet and distressed looking. Her skin had a radiant look about it, and her wet hair was thrown up in a messy bun. She had also taken his giant white shirt and sweatpants without permission.
"The bath? I swear to god, Courf-," he started, but Courfeyrac hung up the phone.
"Those are my clothes," he remarked, smiling and lying down on the couch. She rolled her eyes, walking over to the couch and shoving his feet off of it to make room for herself to sit down.
"And you're more than welcome to have my clothes," she smirked, "I'm tired. You wanna sleep on the couch?"
He laughed, still shocked by her blunt responses and statements, "Sweetheart, it's my house. Being pretty doesn't exactly give you the right to come in and steal my clothes and my bed," he said.
She shrugged, getting up, "Except that it kinda does. G'night, Courfeyrac, thanks for everything," she said, smiling and blushing as she turned away from him and walked to the back bedroom.
"That's the nicest thing you've said yet!" he exclaimed, proud of himself when he could hear her giggling from the other room. Sleeping on the couch for one night wouldn't be too horrible, and he did want her to be comfortable. He pulled the small blanket, slightly damp now, over himself and closed his eyes, half wondering if the whole encounter had been a dream.