The following morning was full of the sound of Eponine slamming books back into their correct placement on the shelves. Damn it, Cosette, we're only now back on speaking terms and you throw me into some best friend situation with a guy who has barely showed any emotion to me in his life? There was something about his stoic posture and indifferent tone of voice that made Eponine want to throw herself at a wall, and she doubted he would be making any fiery speeches during an essay-tutoring session. No, it would definitely go horribly. Or maybe she would just mess something up like she always seemed to, and send him walking for the door again.
She heard the bell jingle and jumped up, thinking that he was early, but instead she saw Cosette's confused face. "I thought you were…"
"Enjolras?" Cosette finished. "The store's not open yet, and he probably won't be here for a while anyways. Well, actually it depends. Does he have any morning classes?"
"I don't know, we didn't exactly lay out an hourly schedule in the twenty seconds it took for you to offer my services and usher me out," Eponine pointed out.
Throwing her jacket on a chair, Cosette shrugged. "I knew you would say something you'd regret." When she turned and took in Eponine's indignant countenance, she stifled a laugh. "Let's face it, you probably would have told him to get lost or something."
"Yeah, you're right, I would have," Eponine agreed, dragging over a new shipment box. "Because Enjolras does NOT want my help. You saw him at the meetings; he always worked by himself unless someone needed to ask him a question."
While Cosette's smile faltered a bit at the mention of meetings, she kept up her slight laugh. "You're nervous, aren't you?"
"Nervous that I'll be ripped to shreds? Then yes, I am."
Flouncing over to the box and grabbing a few books, the blonde plastered on a fake innocent look. "Not that kind of nervous."
"What kind, then?"
"Oh, never mind, never mind…"
Now absolutely infuriated, Eponine blew her choppy bangs off of her forehead and shoved the remaining books into place as the first customers came in.
The day, of course, dragged endlessly. Eponine bagged books, said thank you, drew on the register even though Cosette hated it, and of course, bolted her head up every time the bell rang on the door. Around noon, though, the phone in the back rang, and she jumped up, ever grateful for the distraction. On the second ring, she grabbed it and answered, "Musain Books and Coffee, Eponine speaking."
"Eponine, it's Enjolras."
Her stomach rose into her throat. God, why was she so jumpy today? "Hi…"
"I just finished with classes, I'll be over in the store in about fifteen minutes," he relayed, his voice sounding even more monotone when projected through a telephone line.
Eponine swallowed and nodded, then remembered that he couldn't see her. "Yes, that will work. I'll be here."
"Thank you." Click.
Eponine waited for a bit, then realized he had hung up. Slightly rude, she decided, to hang up without a simple goodbye. Maybe she should have been teaching him manners instead of how to write a goddamned paper.
"Coseeeeeette," she hissed across the store, getting her friend's attention. "He's comiiiiiiing."
"Weeeeeell," Cosette started, mimicking Eponine's hushed but frantic whisper, "there's a table in the baaaaack. Use iiiiiit."
"It's not funny anymore."
"You started it."
Huffing, Eponine stomped to the back of the store and threw her bag to the side of the table, grabbing a random book out of her bag (working in a bookstore, she always seemed to have around five with her). It happened to be Pride and Prejudice, which she was re-reading, and she unfolded her page and tried to focus all of her attention on Lizzie Bennet.
Fifteen minutes later, though, the bell rang. The first thing that Eponine thought was how much she was annoyed by people who always arrive exactly on the dot. Not early, not late, but exactly when they said they would show up. It showed that they were perfectionists, and Eponine had learned a long time ago that she could only deal with perfectionists for about ten minutes at a time. Let's hope he can write an essay in ten minutes, then, she thought, pretending to continue reading her book.
Sure enough, he came to stand near the desk and introduced himself not with a typical greeting, but with, "Cosette told me that you would be back here."
And because she was particularly sick of his cold manner, she stood up, smiled, and snatched up his right hand to shake. "Hello, Enjolras. Thanks for coming today. Just pull up this chair."
She got exactly the reaction she was going for – completely shocked.
But luckily, he did as he was told, and sat at the other end of the wide desk, placing textbooks and paper on the table. As he did, she couldn't help but study him in his element: work. He seemed to be more relaxed, more open, than when he did when he had come in. Maybe some people's comfort zone was work, although it definitely wasn't Eponine's. Still, she almost envied the way he seemed to belong with a pencil in his hand and a book in front of him.
"So…French revolution," she stated blatantly. "What are you focusing on?"
"The people. The people rising up and taking control of their own future," he answered. She couldn't tell whether it was just his topic sentence or he found an interest in the idea.
"Good start. Write your introduction."
"Now?"
Eponine nodded. "Write it, let me read it, I'll edit, you'll rewrite it." He seemed to be confused, so she grabbed her book back out of her bag and cracked it open, saying, "I'm not exactly the world's highest-class tutor, you know."
He opened his mouth like he was about to respond, then decided against speaking and started scratching his pencil on the paper. She stole little glances at it from time to time, noticing his annoyingly perfect penmanship. It was one of her largest regrets that she had never given much thought to her handwriting, and now her cursive looked like a mess of party streamers, let alone her printing.
A few minutes passed, and he handed her the paper. She reached over and stole one of his red pens and circled the grammatical errors, underlined the incorrect information, and did whatever else she supposed tutors did. If she even was a tutor, that is.
Afterwards, she flicked the paper back into his waiting hands. "Now you re-write it."
"Shouldn't I move on and have a completed rough draft?"
Eponine sighed and closed her book. Really, it was a miracle how he had gotten this far in his education. "I don't do rough drafts. You'll write and I'll edit, and you'll rewrite and I'll edit, and we'll do that until there's nothing for me to edit. Then we do a paragraph a day with the same system, and eventually, you'll churn out a paper. No more questions," she finished, settling back into her chair and putting her feet up on the table for good measure. She paused, however, when she realized that Enjolras was staring at her with a bewildered expression. "What?"
He pulled himself from his trance. "Nothing, it's just…I didn't expect you to be…"
She smirked. The fearless leader at a loss for words. "Smart?" she deadpanned.
"I could tell you were smart. But I've never considered writing an essay this way. I've always done what teachers have told me to do," he admitted.
She shrugged. "You can't go through life relying on people to teach you," she reasoned.
"You're teaching me."
"But not really," she dismissed. "I'm reading, you're writing, and I'm telling you what you're doing wrong. I'm not teaching you what to write."
"Well," he sighed, "whatever you're doing, you're doing a good job of it. And thank you."
Looking up from her book, she realized that he was actually smiling at her. It confused her and strangely delighted her all at once, because she hadn't seen him smile since they were in the café half of the store, planning the final steps of the movement. And he had thanked her.
And Eponine thought that maybe this wouldn't be such a bad arrangement after all.
Well I took a forever-long break, didn't I…please R/R!
