Hi guys! This is the first story I've posted on here, and my first Les Mis story ever. It's not even just mine. My Tumblr friend Abby and I came up with it. We don't own any characters you recognize. Gen is the only one that's ours at the moment. We're working on adopting Courf though. Enjoy!
Genevieve had been a transfer student at the University of Paris for about a week when she realized that studying in her dorm with her two noisy roommates was not going to work. Instead, she decided to try studying in the medical library. She walked into the library, looked around, and realized that the only spot not taken was a table in the back corner. Shrugging her bag further onto her shoulder, she made her way through the maze of tables, chairs and La-z-boy recliners to the table. Setting her Starbucks down, she sat in the chair, opened her second year medical book and started reading. A little while later, she looked up and realized that some guy was standing over her. "May I help you?"
"This isn't your spot."
"I'm sorry. Is it yours?"
"No. But the person who normally sits here would be displeased to find you in his chair."
"There aren't any reserved seats in this library. Have a nice day." Sure, it was a little rude, but she wasn't in the mood to be talked to by a pushy third-year. Turning back to her book, she snorted to herself as the obnoxious student walked away. Determine to finish reviewing the entire chapter before her test tomorrow she took another sip of her white chocolate mocha and buckled down to her studying.
The next afternoon, she went back to the library, deciding that it was much more conducive to studying than her dorm. Again, the library was extremely crowded, and the table in the back was her only choice. As she got closer to the table, she noticed that there was a young man sitting at one end. Since there was nowhere else to sit, she dropped her bag on the floor next to the chair at the other end of the table and proceeded to open her textbook. A minute later, she felt someone looking at her. Glancing up, she noticed that the man sitting at the other end of the table was staring at her. Smiling politely, she looked back down at her book to resume reading. That "you're-being-watched" feeling did not go away, even after a few minutes. Looking back up, she found that the man at the end of the table was still staring at her. Getting up from her chair, she slammed her book shut, and walked purposefully to the other end of the table. "Is there something you need?"
The man looked up slowly, closing his book. "This is my table."
"Excuse me?"
"This-is-my-table."
"No, I heard you. It just doesn't make sense. This table doesn't have anybody's name on it."
"While this is true, I would appreciate it if you would leave."
"Um, no. This is just as much "my" table, as it is "yours". So I'll be staying. If you don't like it, I'm sure you can find a spot in the law library."
Shrugging, he reopened his book and went back to reading. Rolling her eyes, Genevieve went back to her coffee and her anatomy book.
For the next few days, one of them would arrive at the library to find the other already at the table. After exchanging a polite nod of greeting, each would go about their studies. Even on days when the library was less crowded, Genevieve found herself drawn to that table in particular. After about six days, her curiosity got the better of her- she wanted, no needed- to know the man's name. She leaned across the table and said, "I don't think I've ever introduced myself." She laughed awkwardly, thrown a bit when he didn't even look up. "I'm Genevieve. What's your name?"
Sighing dramatically, he looked up from his law book and said dryly, "My name's-." The librarian cut him off with a harsh "Shush!" Genevieve slid back into her seat, embarrassed, and went back to her anthropology book. A minute later a piece of paper slid into her line of sight. "Enjolras" was all it read. Genevieve looked up, to see the man-Enjolras-nod at her and go back to his book. Smiling to herself, she used the paper to mark her page and went to her dorm.