FIRST IMPRESSIONS
Éponine wouldn't really describe herself as a waitress. It wasn't her only job; she walked dogs, babysat, tutored, volunteered at the senior home…really, being a waitress was her least frequent occupation, but it definitely paid the best.
The only thing about Café Myriel was it belonged to West End. The café was five blocks from the tall iron-gated West End campus. It wasn't the nicest café, either. There were others with bigger televisions, louder music, alcohol, and more West End boys. Just to know Café Myriel was a special privilege. If you could be seduced by Café Brujon on Fourth, you didn't deserve Café Myriel.
So the West End boys who actually managed to find it were the most West End the school had to offer. Loud, obnoxious, and entitled.
Éponine had seen enough of them to last a lifetime.
Groaning as the radio station began to play the same song for the thirteenth time (she'd counted), she pat at her apron, put on a tip-winning smile, and did her best to tune out the terrible music.
Not long after her shift had begun, the bell dinged as Four West End boys walked in, the sharp cold wind biting at their heels.
The luminescent glow of the neon light welcome sign lit their faces with unnatural colours. The first boy raised four long fingers while talking on his mobile phone. West End boys were good at that; multitasking was an easy skill as long as their tasks were self-beneficial. The way he held himself demanded respect and attention, like he was what presidents of multimillionaire companies had looked like when they were in high school. There was something hungry about all the boys. Éponine watched Toussaint eye them a bit more than necessary whilst leading them to one of the tables.
"Need help with that one, Tou?" Éponine offered as Toussaint hustled over to get glasses of water for the boys.
"Are you kidding?" Tou replied, "Isn't one with dark-hair hot?"
"Cute…not hot." Éponine answered thoughtfully, watching idly as Tou filled the glasses at lightning speed. How did she manage it?
"Mmm," Tou waved away Éponine's curt remark and put the water jug aside, "But hey, the blonde one's kind of cute too..." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.
Mr. High and Mighty Mobile Phone? Éponine bit back a laugh and sarcastic remark.
"Tou, we've been over this. No means no. You know that." She answered.
"Alright, alright, but you're missing out, 'Ponine!" she teased, making her way back to the table with the refreshments.
Éponine sighed and continued to make the orders for coffee. She hadn't slept well the night before.
"Dad, we really need the living expenses. It's been a week, and the rent's due soon." She spoke into the phone.
"Didn't I give you the rent last month already? Just get the rent from that." A rough voice answered her.
"Dad, you paid a third of what we needed for food and rent alone last month." And every other month before that. Ever since the damn divorce.
"Well, too bad! Life's tough, so make due! Why isn't your useless mother getting off her fat ass and working, hmm? For the last time, I am poor, so I can only scrape up so much!"
"But we really need—"
Click.
Éponine cursed and threw the phone onto her bed in frustration. That bastard! Three years had gone by and he still didn't have a job. Hell, he hadn't even gone looking for a job, that good for nothing, lazy…
She let out another sigh of exasperation. Now she had to work double shifts again, and final exams were coming up.
Something touched her shoulder. She whirled around.
"Can. I. Help. You?"
Before her stood the multitasking mobile phone West End boy, looking tidy and presidential. His watch looked as if it cost more than her apartment. The exposed skin around it was surprisingly tan; Éponine never knew why West End boys always tanned long before locals did. Probably because of spring break trips to Costa Rica, Los Angeles and the like.
"I certainly hope so." His voice rang of less hope, and more certainty. He had to speak loudly over the radio, and he was so tall he had to incline his head to meet her eyes. The tiny gesture made her feel miniscule.
"My socially inhibited friend Combeferre thinks you're cute, but he's unwilling to make a move. Over there. Not the red head. The one with—dammit, he's hiding behind the menu. God. He's not like this at all, usually. I'll be right back." Standing up, he turned around—right into Toussaint and holding the water jug.
The ice water and ice cubes therein arced in the air and splattered Éponine's shirt and apron, the merciless cold cutting clean through her body.
It was very quiet.
"P-Ponine?" Tou squeaked. "Are-are you okay?"
Éponine took a deep breath.
And another.
"Do I look like I'm okay?" she hissed, channeling all her willpower to keep the poison in her voice to a minimum.
Her cold reply enacted a stream of stuttered apologies from the poor girl. Toussaint and President Mobile Phone helped her up. For once, he looked completely aghast and unsure of what to do, which probably didn't happen very often.
"Do you…need any assistance?"
"No, thanks, I'll manage." She replied icily.
"Will you still do me a favour and come over and talk to him?"
Éponine blinked at him.
"What?"
"Well, if you don't mind—"
"I mind very much! If you haven't noticed, I'm soaking wet here! What exactly do you think I could talk to him about?"
"We'll think of something. We're interesting people." He didn't seem fazed by this at all.
"Do you see how I'm wearing this apron? It means I'm working. For a living."
"I'll take care of it." His expression didn't waver.
"Take care of it?" she echoed.
"Yeah. How much do you make in an hour? I'll take care of it. And I'll take to your manager." He shrugged.
For a moment, Éponine stood there at a loss for words, just staring at him. She opened her mouth, but all that came out was air. Then a humorless laugh.
"I am not a prostitute."
The West End boy seemed puzzled by this, and then realization dawned.
"I didn't mean it like that, that's not what I said."
"That is exactly what you said! You think you can pay me for talking to your friend?" She couldn't believe him! He was just so…so… "You know, in the real world, when a girl is interested in a boy, she'll talk to him for free."
The West End boy didn't talk for a moment. Then he said, without heat, "You said you were working for a living. I thought it'd be rude not to take that into account. I'm sorry I offended you."
In the background, she caught a glimpse of one of the other boys, a dark haired one, making a plane of his hand. It made a beeline for the table and crashed with dramatic sound effects provided by its owner. The one named Combeferre winced.
"Dear God," remarked President Mobile Phone, "I don't know what else to say."
"Try 'sorry'", she recommended
"I said that already."
Éponine considered. "Then, 'bye'."
He made a small bow with his head, which made her feel strange in its formality, and headed back to his table. He was received by the dark-haired one mimicking her "…'not a prostitute'" and Combeferre sighing "Enj, you are the worst wingman this sad world has ever seen…and she was really cute!" he whined.
She turned to Toussaint.
"You couldn't back me up?"
The girl blinked at her. "In my experience, it's usually wiser to just let you explode and blow off your rage without any intervention. Didn't want to add fuel to the raging fire." She shrugged. "On that note, you were a bit too harsh on the poor boy, he only wanted to help."
"He was an asshole."
"Well he was probably brought up by assholes, so he's not that bad. And that guy thought you were cute! You need to give yourself a chance Ep, instead of blowing off every male human who shows slight interest in you."
Éponine made a sound and looked away.
"Alright honey, let's get you cleaned up, okay?"
"'Kay."
Éponine and Enjolras both heaved a sigh at the same time.
A/N: My goal this time was less fluff, more action! Is it a bit too fast? Please please pleeease tell me what you think! This is my first time ever doing an action-focused piece!