A/N: My friend Rosalie and I had been working on this for a while. I think it's adorable. She thinks it's adorable and who doesn't love a good coffee shop au? Enjoy. I'll update Celestica as soon as possible, by the way! P.S If you don't listen to rainymood while you read this I don't know what you're doing right with your life?
Disclaimer: I don't own Degrassi. Half of this fanfiction was written by my best friend Rosalie who is perfect in ever way!
Rainy days were somewhat common in Toronto. They occurred unexpectedly, that was for sure. And as Clare Edwards stepped out of the taxi cab, a puddle of water welcomed her left foot; she let out a quiet groan. Rain was most certainly not her best friend at the moment. Her flats were now ruined, her foot was soaked - but it was completely her fault.
She couldn't predict the weather.
The door of the taxi cab was closed behind her, and the cab drove off, leaving Clare soaked and irritable, the rain drops falling on her curly head of hair.
She should have brought her umbrella.
But she couldn't predict the weather.
She didn't know it was going to rain this hard while she was in a taxi cab, trying to get to the nearest café. She noticed some grey clouds in the sky, but she didn't think anything of it. And of course, the rain had started pouring as soon as she had arrived at the café.
Perfect timing.
Her feet quickly brought her to the entrance of the café, and when she stepped inside, she was greeted with warm air and the smell of coffee, as she expected. Since she was feeling rather peevish due to the weather, she decided to sit down, read a good book, and relax. That usually calmed her down on days like this.
Clare spotted a bookshelf against the wall, and she walked towards it. After a few minutes of browsing, she grabbed The Bell Jarby Sylvia Plath, and smiled to herself. This was just what she needed - a good book to make her forget about the rainfall.
She took a seat on a chair next to the window, which was just as comfortable as a couch, and she began listening to the rain droplets fall against the glass. Her fingers turned to the first page of the book, and she quickly prepared to get lost in the world of the character within the pages. A smile formed on her face - everything seemed to be all right. But as she read on, she found it difficult to concentrate. The sound of rain against the window was beginning to bother her, and the words on the page of the book were beginning to jumble together.
Today just wasn't her day.
Shaking her head slightly, she placed the book on the arm of the chair, and put the strap of her bag on her shoulder. She decided it would now be the perfect time to get a cup of coffee. Maybe it would change her mood, and make her forget about the rainfall, and her wet feet. Maybe it would allow her to enjoy a good book, and get completely lost in it.
Clare rose to her feet, and began walking to the counter to purchase her coffee. But just then, a man turned around and bumped into her, spilling his hot coffee all over her.
There was coffee all over her coat.
He had spilled coffee all over her coat!
…
Today was going to be Eli Goldsworthy's day.
It was raining, and he absolutely loved the rain. The pitter-patter on the windows and the smell of wet concrete. And in the city, a rainy day was one of the handfuls of things that made him want to stay here, as much as he usually hated the place. He grabbed a light-brown coloured trench coat (it was more of a beige colour, actually), slung it over his shoulders, and took off down his apartment steps, his coattails flying in the wind on his way down. And when he had reached the cement, and could take in a view of the city, he breathed in the cold Toronto air and smiled to himself.
Today was just going to be his day.
The world was in the palm of his hand, and he couldn't answer off of the top of his head why he was just so excited about the day, but he was. It didn't even bug him that he would have to go back to his apartment later on and write up seven or eight more chapters of his upcoming novel, Whispering Lovers. He was going to change the name. Eventually. And writing every chapter was as tedious and aggravating as it may have appeared. Eli Goldsworthy was at a lack of inspiration. He had nothing to pick him back up again. No muse.
But maybe it was supposed to be that way?
There was a coffee shop across the street from his apartment, which he visited often. Well, it was a little more than just a coffee shop. It had books, almost like a library but you didn't check anything out, you would just sit and read and enjoy yourself in the peaceful atmosphere. That's where Eli did his people watching. And Eli Goldsworthy loved people watching. That was his inspiration, perhaps. Instead of finding a single person to zero in on and call his muse, he could people watch for hours upon hours without getting bored.
Opening up the doors to his coffee shop-library space and feeling the warmth envelope him was as delightful as you may have expected it to be. The smells of chocolate and coffee and old books filling his nose. He took in a deep breath. He let it out. And then he messed with his (now, currently soaking wet) hair.
He ordered his favourite drink. Extra hot, triple venti white mocha, with extra whipped cream and chocolate bits. In a blue house cup. He was specific. Probably too specific but who could blame him, he was a writer. He tipped them a dollar and twenty five cents, as he did every day that he came in. He talked to one of the women who worked there, Imogen, and asked how her father was. They had gotten to know each other fairly well since Eli had moved to Toronto. He smiled to her. He told her to have a great week. He did as he always did, because Eli Goldsworthy was constantly in the regular.
But then things became drastically irregular.
He had turned onto his heels, and spilled his extra hot triple venti white mocha with extra whipped cream and chocolate bits all over someone. His blue house cup falling to the ground and shattering, causing everyone in the coffee house-library to stop what they were doing and stare. The girl gasped. Eli tried hard not to panic.
"Oh my… I'm so sorry." Eli blurted. His mind was reeling as to how to fix the uncertain situation. She stood there, frazzled, completely, with her hands in the air and her mouth open like a codfish. He stepped back, immediately, and reached for as many napkins as he could carry in his hands, and reached for the young girl to pat down her shirt that was covered in his hot coffee. "Jesus, I'm such a klutz, I'm so sorry."
Clare stood there, staring at the mysterious man, her mouth agape and her mind completely shook up. She could practically feel everyone in the coffee shop staring at her, causing her face to turn red, and her hands to start shaking slightly. As the man turned around and began to attempt to dry off her shirt, she finally spoke up. "Um, it's fine, really." She blurted out nervously, wanting nothing more than to run off and hide in embarrassment.
"No, no, I'm so sorry. Let me help you." Eli insisted, grasping around the girls shoulders and pulling off her now coffee stained coat. "Imogen!" Eli called over his shoulder as his perky somewhat-of-a-friend rushed to the scene to help him clean up. "What's your name?" Eli asked, glancing up from the nice coat he was attempting to dry off at the girl. She was very pretty. Auburn hair and wet curls sticking to her face. She had been caught in the rain, it was obvious.
"Clare..." She answered, clearly skeptical of what was happening, and also slightly embarrassed that he was making everything such a big deal. She could have easily just gone into a restroom and freshened up.
"Clare, lovely name." Eli replies immediately, smiling at her. "Listen, Clare. I truly am sorry. Let me buy you your drink. What were you going to order?"
"It's all right I can -"
"I insist."
Clare sighed, unsure of what to do at the moment. It was quite obviously that this man wouldn't let her get her way with things, and he would keep offering to buy her a drink. But, it was kind of strange to let someone she had just met buy her a drink, even if it was simply a gesture of apology.
"You know, I don't think it'd be fair to have you do that for me," She replied, looking down at her feet for a moment - out of embarrassment, and shivering slightly as someone opened the door, letting the somewhat cool find its way into the coffee shop.
"Why is that?"
She raised her head only to reveal a small, nervous smile. "I don't even know your name."
"Right, right!" Eli rolled his eyes at his own stupidity and nodded. "I'm Eli." He beamed. He noticed, momentarily, that Clare appeared to shivering and he suddenly realized why. Quickly, he pulled off his coat and wrapped it around her without saying another word. "It might be a little wet but it'll do." Eli mentioned about his coat, and then he smiled again. "Now, about that drink. You look like a hot cocoa kind of girl."
Eli's coat was now wrapped around her shoulders, and she couldn't help but blush at his generosity. "Thank you, Eli." She responded, instantly feeling warmer while wearing his coat. "Actually, yes - I do enjoy hot chocolate." She shook her head, raising her hand to move some of her hair away from her eyes. "But only if you insist..."
"And I do," Eli replied, not missing a beat. He did his usual thing, as if the whole spilling his drink on a pretty girl scenario had never happened. He reordered his drink, and now the hot chocolate for Clare. He went to go talk to Imogen, watching from the side as Clare sat down again in one of the big cozy chairs. He was people watching, now. And Clare was the one he had his eyes on. She had big blue eyes, they shone like sapphires and he had just barely seen her cheeks turning red, but when he did, it made him smile. Truthfully, she was gorgeous. But he had just met her. He wasn't going to say anything.
The drinks arrived, and Eli carefully made his way over to Clare Edwards who was sitting alone with her nose stuffed into Sylvia Plath.
"I've never seen you here before." Eli noted, handing her her drink and taking a sip of his own.
"I come here often." She answered, placing the book on the arm of the chair, while reaching for the drink that was being handed to her. "Well, I must not be spending much of my time here, considering I've never seen you here before either." She sipped on her hot chocolate, wrapping her hands around the cup to keep warm. "By the way, thank you for this." She motioned to the cup of hot chocolate. "It was very kind of you, thank you."
"It was the least I could do," Eli smiled. He glanced around, pulling up a spare chair from a little ways a way and sitting down in front of her. "I hope I'm not intruding on you and Sylvia's date." He smirked slightly, nodding at the book turned over on the table so that the page would be saved. "I usually sit here alone."
"Oh, don't worry, I could do that any time." Clare smiled, knowing that she could pick up a Sylvia Plath book any time she wanted. "Well, if we're here at the same time again, you won't have to sit alone." She sipped her hot chocolate, feeling somewhat nervous and relaxed at the same time. "Do you read?" She asked, wanting to start a conversation, rather than sitting there not saying a word, for she was still feeling slightly overwrought.
"Uh, yeah." Eli murmured, unsure whether to tell her who he was. But it wasn't like she might care. Clare may or may not have even heard of him, and he didn't really care either way. He was a hermit writer. The one that only left his room on rare occasions for coffee runs across the street and was paid in royalties each week to keep his wallet filled. People liked his work, but he had never met anyone. Eli shifted awkwardly in his seat. "I'm an author. Not extremely well known, but an author. I was just working on something before I came here, actually. But - it's nothing." He swallowed, his fingers tracing patterns into his now red replacement mug.
Clare noticed that Eli was almost hesitant to speak to her - which was completely reasonable. It wasn't very often she would have a conversation with a complete stranger, and she figured it might have been the same way for Eli. "Oh, that's great!" She responded when he had told her that he was an author. Letting a smile find her way to her lips, she sipped at her beverage once again, listening to every word that left Eli's lips. "Well, it must be something." She raised her eyebrows, curious as to what he was working on. But she wasn't entirely sure if he wanted to talk about it or not, since he seemed to be just as nervous as she was.
"Yeah, something." He coughed slightly, and then placed his coffee mug down on the small table in between the two of them. He was staring at her. No, more like people watching her. The way she sat, collected herself. The way she tried to stay completely normal even though she had just been abruptly met by a stranger and shoved into his coat and given a hot chocolate courtesy of him. She was calm about it, though on the inside she was the opposite of calm. "Hey, I really am sorry about everything. I could have your coat dry cleaned, if you'd like. It's really no trouble at all."
The way Eli was looking at her, it appeared that he was almost studying her - which caused Clare to be confused. But she tried to stay calm, and come off as a girl who wasn't the least bit of nervous, all though it wasn't that way at all. "No, no. It's fine, honestly." She assured him, not wanting to cause him any trouble. Her hands wrapped around her cup of hot chocolate, and she looked up at Eli with a small smile. "It's only a coat, it's not a big deal - I promise."
Eli nodded immediately, realizing that his offer was probably awkward and unneeded; only, he couldn't help himself but do so.
"Right, sorry." He blurted nervously. Truth was, Eli didn't talk to girls very much. Besides his somewhat-friend Imogen who was really too busy told hold a real conversation with him, this was the most speaking he had done with a girl – no, a woman in years. "Perhaps I should be off now," he muttered, but she furrowed her eyebrows at him.
"You don't have to leave, you know." She smiled. He liked her smile. "It's pouring out there, and I have your coat."
"I only live right across the street." Eli informed. He could feel a lump in the back of his throat. "And you look… you look great in the coat. Why don't you keep it? I can always buy myself another."
"Eli, that's all right –"
"I'm really bad at taking no for an answer."
Feeling somewhat defeated, Clare let out a small sigh, but she couldn't fight the smile that was starting to make yet another appearance on her face. "If you insist." She bit her lip. "But if you end up catching a cold from walking home in the rain without a coat, I'll be sure to take the blame."
"I won't. I'm immune to common colds." Eli assured Clare, flashing her a smile. There was a certain warmth about her that he enjoyed. The way her rosy red cheeks were. The way her lips formed into a new smile that made him smile. He liked looking at her. He liked admiring her. He wondered why they had never met before. Why a rainy day and a spill of the coffee had brought the two of them together. Eli picked up his cup of coffee and gulped down the last few sips of his coffee and then stood to his feet, earning a curious look from Clare. "I hate to have to leave you, but I really should be going."
"Are you su –"
Eli nodded. "I, in fact, have just been struck with a bit of writing genius and I need to get back and write it all down before it slips from my mind. You understand, don't you?"
"I completely understand." Clare nodded, sipping her hot chocolate. Eli was mysterious, in a way, which made Clare want to talk to him more. She was sure she would be able to sit with him for hours and just talk - but he had to be on his way. Besides, there was a possibility there would be times like this again for the two of them sometime in the future - times that she would most definitely be looking forward to.
Eli smiled shyly at her. He reached forward, shaking her hand. He was surprised, slightly, that her palm was warm, but then again she had been holding a mug of hot chocolate.
"Maybe I'll see you here again." He finished. He stepped backwards, trying not to trip over his chair and make any more of a mess than he already had.
He returned his mug. He said goodbye to Imogen. He stood in the doorway and stared at her for a moment, watching as she returned to her book as if meeting him had never happened in the first place. He liked her. Her eyes flickered up from the book, meeting with his for a moment. And they quietly stared at each other for what appeared to be a long amount of time, before Eli Goldsworthy took off out the door and back to his apartment. He could feel his imaginary coattails flowing in the wind as he raced back to his apartment.
Perhaps he had found himself his new inspiration.
Perhaps he had found himself a muse.