Eva awoke with the most abominable of headaches. Jo had left a glass of water and a few pills next to her bed. She gratefully choked them down and relished in the sensation of water down her parched throat. She made the same declaration she made during every hangover and settled on never drinking again.

"Maria?" Eva called out. She heard a grumbling and a pattering as Maria came to her room. Maria was short, with dark hair in a bob that was constantly streaked with some color or another. Today was green. She'd made it a long-term habit to wear only black except for shoes, which were an ever-rotating selection of pastel stilettos. She hated most everyone in the apartment, but thought Eva had excellent taste in footwear. They got on all right.

"How's the headache?" she asked.

"Joyous. Where is everyone?"

"The twins are in class—I can't imagine what dark power made them go— I'm here, you're there, Jo's at work. Well, technically, you're supposed to be at work too. I think she's covering for you."

"Ugh, what time is it?"

"About ten. If you hustle, you can make it by eleven."

"There is literally nothing I feel less like doing."

"Your call, but didn't you just get this job like yesterday?" Eva moaned and got out of bed. She rushed through her morning routine as much as she could given her aching head, grabbed the subway into Manhattan, and made it to The Den by 10:58. Eva had missed the morning rush, and the place was fairly empty, save for the obligatory caffeine-hounds, screenwriters, and bloggers. Johanna waved her over.

"How's your head?"

"I could use a coffee."

"I think we could manage that." Johanna went about making a latte. "So, how was your date with Mike?"

"Wasn't a date."

"Course not. You should jump on that. Even Maria thinks he's cute."

"Maria thinks everyone with a tattoo is cute. Well, tattoos and Tom Hiddleston." She stopped to think before continuing.

"Yeah, he's cute. It's just, now that I know who he is. I remember him. He was this dorky little kid from my hometown."

"You're this dorky little kid from your hometown."

"That's not the point. He's just, he's just Mike. Cute Mike. He's cute, but he's local. I want someone foreign, someone who's an adventure, you know? I got out of Meryton because I really and truly hated it and everyone in it. I can't marry someone from home, despite the squeals of joy my mother would expel."

"Who said anything about marriage?"

"I hate you. You know what I meant."

"Yeah, I know what you meant."

"It's like, I hate everyone. Really."

"You've been spending too much time with Maria."

"No, I mean, I just needed to get out. My parents, God knows my parents are insane. I can't deal with that crap all the time. I got out. Thank God I got out. I just…I'm 24. I can't get back into it, you know?"

"Jeez, you're a little heavy for a Monday morning."

"It's funny, that's what Mike said too."

"Maybe I'll give him Maria's number. Anyway, how's the day been?"

"A little busy this morning but nothing much beyond that. Just keep the writers happy and that's all there really is to it." They looked at the grunge mix occupying the leather chairs.

"You mean I actually have to talk to them?"

"They usually come and complain if they need something, but you should probably check on them every once in a while. It's a little worrying when they're quiet for too long, you know?" The two looked at the motley crew. They weren't really all that threatening, now that Eva was in control of their caffeine supply. She was pretty sure they would play nice.

They busied themselves for a few hours cleaning up after the miscreants, washing tables and keeping an eye on the toilet paper supply. After wiping down the long counter that made up the majority of The Den, Eva was sent to retrieve some pastry from downstairs. They were running out of cranberry scones. She hopped down the steps, jumping over the last two and nearly slipping on the tile floor. It was hot, much hotter than she imagined it could be down there. Mostly chrome and iron, with a large wood-fired oven and more baking trays than she thought possible. She found a very sweaty Cute Mike dealing with a large ball of dough.

"Wow," Eva said. "I always thought it was some sort of gimmick that you made everything yourself."

"Everything but the flour," he said, before beginning to roll some baguettes. "We out of cranberry scones again?" Eva nodded. "It's that Roseanne. Every damn morning she comes in and buys thirty. We should probably have gotten her a punch card by now."

"Perhaps." Eva was already drenched in sweat. "How do you even stand it down here?"

"Eh, you get used to it," he said, wiping his brow with a towel slung over his shoulder. "Vi's been down here for almost thirty years cranking it out. I sort of can't believe it after a while." A timer went off and he disappeared to put some trays in an oven somewhere. He returned a few seconds later.

"So," he asked, "How's the head doing."

"Not really what I would call excellent," she replied. "How bad was I last night?"

"I wouldn't exactly call you bad. More like amusing."

"Did you have to carry me onto the subway?"

"A little bit."

"Sorry about that."

"It was my pleasure," he said, taking a swig from a bottle of water. "We should do it again sometimes. I need more friends around here, and my roommate is driving me crazy."

"Amen to that."

"You have an assortment of them living with you, don't you."

"Too many if you ask me, but we make rent so it ends up being alright. Johanna, whom you know. Then there's Maria, the one with the hair, and the twins, Katie and Libba. Maria does something; no one's entirely sure what. I think she has a blog. The twins are undergrad at NYU, practically inseparable. I think Kathy got into Princeton or Duke or something, don't ask me how she did it, but couldn't bear being anywhere without Lib, so they both ended up here. Their parents are entirely insane; let them do whatever the hell they want. Of course, my parents are insane, and God knows Maria's must be, though we've never met them. No one really knows anything about Jo's. She doesn't talk about them much. Why am I babbling like this help." Mike grinned.

"You're funny when you babble," he said, "in an entirely platonic excellent way. I ought to," he coughed, "I ought to get working on those scones. I'll see you around."

"I'll be upstairs if you need me."

"I'll call if I fall into the oven," he said. She laughed before tripping up the stairs.


Things settled into an easy routine from there on out. Eva went to the Den around eight, dealt with the morning rush—most of the writers weren't up before eleven anyway—went to class around noon, and came back and worked a few hours in the afternoon. Jo had graduated about a year ago and was working freelance doing something, no one was entirely sure what. She was behind the counter sketching one day when Eva walked in. She always looked beautiful, blonde hair in a curled ponytail, falling over her shoulders. She just looked… happy. It made Eva a little bit sick.

She shrugged her bag down behind the counter and grabbed her apron off the hook. She tapped Jo's shoulder and pointed to a jittery redhead. Upon the girls looking at him, he turned away.

"Jo, that guy has been looking at you non-stop since I started working here. Hell, he's here more than some of the screenwriters."

"Oh yeah, that's Charlie."

"Charlie?"

"Yeah, Charlie. It was raining some day and he came in, soaked and ridiculous looking. He's been coming in ever since."

"He's cute."

"Yeah, pretty cute."

"Have you said hi to him?"

"Once or twice. He said a friend recommended this place to him, said maybe he'd bring him with him sometime. Want me to ask for you?"

"Hilarious."

"Hey, you said you wanted something new, something you haven't done before. I'm pretty sure you haven't done him before."

"Jo!"

"Alright, fine. I can take no for an answer." Jo put her hands up before heading out into the masses to see if everyone was all right. Eva rolled her eyes and settled into a mug of coffee. She looked over at Jo talking to Charlie and scoffed. He was pretty cute, now that she looked at him. Some chicks have all the luck.


"Darce, she's beautiful. I need you to help me."

"She works in a coffee shop."

"Oh, she's the most beautiful creature I've ever seen in my life. Please. I'm begging you." Darcy looked down at his friend, who seemed to be lying prostrate on the floor. He sighed, running a hand through dark hair. His friend did have a tendency to fall fast, but who knew. Perhaps this time it'd all work out. Darcy could be an optimist when he needed to be.

"What do you want me to do? Buy the shop and say I'll fire her if she doesn't date you?"

"As successful as that endeavor might be, perhaps something subtler?" Darcy groaned.

"You have a tendency for extravagance without my help. What do you need me to do?"

"Just exist. I need an extra body around. She has a friend and I need you to keep her busy."

"You can't just ask this girl on a date?"

"She might say no."

"So, you need me to babysit while you get lucky. Charlie, I really don't see why I need to be involved in this."

"Please. Just…please." Darcy sighed again.

"You're lucky I'm so excellent."

"Same old Darcy, always keeping that pride to a minimum."

"You're welcome."

"Thank you. I promise, she's pretty. Just your type."

Author's Note: The illustrious Darcy rears his gorgeous head. Thanks for the lovely responses so far, and feel free to review, inbox me...I don't know. I like talking to you guys.

As always, much love and best wishes,

Zoe