ATTEMPT #8
This time, he was confident. It was her birthday and Cosette and Grantaire had insisted on throwing her a party, so he knew she'd be 1. There 2. In a good mood and 3. A little drunk. The perfect situation.
He arrived fashionably late, as usual, with his good friend Joly. Joly was a perpetually worried medical student with a thing about germs, and a weird three-way relationship with his best friend Bossuet and a fiery Italian business major called Musichetta. Joly's late afternoon lab session had given Courfeyrac the ideal excuse to turn up when the part was already in full swing.
He hugged his friends on arrival, greeting them with his usual warmth and big smile, and then looked around the room for Éponine. He spotted her almost immediately – she was perched on the arm of a sofa chatting to Bahorel, and she looked even more incredible than usual; her navy blue patterned lace dress had almost no back, and fitted to her slight curves with a black band around her tiny waist before flaring out to her mid-thigh. Her long, tanned legs -draped over Bahorel's knees - seemed to go on forever, but actually ended in sky-high black, thick-strapped heels. With her hair pinned up in a loose bun on top of her head, her wide smile – God, the dimples – was out for all to see, her radiant natural beauty accentuated only by a little eyeliner and mascara. Wow he thought to himself, temporarily stunned frozen. Combeferre noticed him staring and smirked, walking across the room to stand beside him.
"I don't often see you stunned speechless" his friend joked, handing him a beer.
"No" Courfeyrac agreed, taking it with a nod of thanks; his eyes never leaving Éponine.
They stood in companionable silence for a while, Courfeyrac hardly moving, trying unsuccessfully not to stare, and Combeferre looking between Éponine and Courfeyrac with a growing grin. A few girls came over; girls he'd normally be very interested in, but the only response they got was polite conversation from Combeferre (while perfectly pleasant, this was not the response they were after) and they soon left them alone.
"Well shit" Ferre laughed after about 15 minutes of observation. "You've really got it bad, haven't you?"
"What?"
"For Éponine."
Courfeyrac scoffed. "No."
"Uh-huh…" the philosophy student replied, clearly unconvinced.
"Come on Ferre, you know I don't "get it bad" for people."
"No, not usually."
"Not ever!"
"That explains why you didn't even acknowledge those girls then."
"I… they weren't my type."
"They were leggy, barely dressed and half-cut, that's exactly your type."
Courfeyrac had no answer. He opened and closed his mouth like a goldfish a few times, then admitted defeat, mumbling "touché."
"Have you asked her out?"
"SEVERAL TIMES."
"She said no, obviously."
"Why obv… yeah. Yeah she did."
"Because you approached it like you always do." Damn, he's good.
"…yeah."
"Look, I know I'm in no position to give flirting advice, but… just try a more personal approach. She's not like your usual girls, so don't treat her like one. She's not the Ice Queen people think she is, but she is smart, and tough as nails if she needs to be, so don't go in all guns blazing. Be a little vulnerable."
Courfeyrac regarded his friend with a little surprise. "I will… thanks Ferre."
"Don't mention it."
Courf smiled. He suddenly knew what he had to do. "I have to go and get something, I'll be right back… watch my beer?"
"Sure" Combeferre replied, taking it from him. He turned to head for the door but was stopped by Ferre calling after him. "Courf?"
He turned to look back at his friend. The philosopher's face was deadly serious. "Break her heart and I'll break your nose."
There was nothing to say; Courfeyrac simply nodded and left.