A/N: Well, there was a mixture of thrilled people and pissed off people last chapter. Seriously? Did you think I would let them kiss that easily?! ;)
I'm planning about five/six more chapters left in this story. Then, I will take a weeks hiatus in order to iron everything out for the next edition!
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter Twenty Four: Prelude to a Kiss
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July 15th; West Bath Municipal Library
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"You mean he almost kissed you? Again?" Ryan leaned forward, an open book in his hands, his eyes wide with shock. Nearby, an elderly woman turned around and shushed him harshly; Éponine smirked and took him by his elbow, leading him around the bookcase.
She nodded, checking over her shoulder to make sure no one was listening. "I swear, I thought I was going to collapse."
Ryan trailed down the row of bookcases to his left. "Tell me everything," he whispered.
Éponine grinned. "I was so wrong about him, Ry. Really, I was. He's incredibly charming and intelligent and –"
"Smoking hot?" Ryan leaned in, nudging her side with his elbow.
Éponine smirked, ducking her head. "Yes, that as well."
Ryan stopped walking and placed his hands on Éponine's shoulders. "I'm happy for you, Ronny."
"Thanks." She punched his shoulder playfully. "You can be my Maid of Honor when we get married, if you want?"
Ryan laughed loudly, earning himself several stern looks; he colored and put a hand on his mouth, nodding earnestly. "I'd be honored."
.::.
July 15th; Augusta City Hall.
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He should have kissed her.
Enjolras ran his hand over his mouth again and again, frowning deeply.
Fuck! He should have kissed her.
But he'd chickened out. He had no back-up plan in case something went wrong and she suddenly didn't want him to kiss her. What if she slapped him? Or called the police or something? Women were drastic creatures – at least, from what he'd seen of his mother and his brother's wife. Their moods changed along with the wind. He wasn't sure if he was ready to put his heart on the line like that.
It could go either way, as he saw it.
But still – he should have kissed her.
Work was becoming more and more of a bore each day. And with the added mystery of June's lawsuit, Enjolras wasn't sure if he was cut out for the lawyering-life anymore. He'd gone to law school to help people. So far, all he'd done was help people divorce or pay their speeding tickets. He'd rather become a monk than spend the rest of his days doing that.
He leaned back in his chair and smirked. Speeding tickets. That was how he'd been able to actually hold his first conversation with Veronica; he should thank the good Lord for speed limits then.
"What's so funny, Enjolras?" Jake stepped in his office, his lips pursed in a non-amused frown.
Enjolras sat up straight, clearing his throat, shuffling the unorganized papers around on his desk together. "Just thinking, sir."
"Well, you can stop thinking about your love life and start thinking about work – please."
"How do you know – I never told you about –"
"My wife works at the art museum."
"Oh..."
"Like I said, rookie, get to work!" Jake slapped Enjolras' door-frame with the folder in his hand and walked out of the room.
Enjolras' lips upturned into a tiny smile, staring at a nondescript part on his desk. "Yes, sir," he said.
He wondered if Veronica liked Italian food?
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July 15th; The Cabin.
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"Did you have a nice date?" Gavroche shoveled in a spoonful of mac and cheese.
Éponine nodded, smiling wistfully to herself. "Yeah, it was really nice."
"Do you think you'll go out again?"
Éponine looked to her left, staring out the window beside her. She shrugged, swirling her spoon around in her yogurt cup. "Maybe... Hopefully."
Gavroche burped loudly and then laughed. "Did you hear that?"
Éponine regarded him with an upturned eyebrow and wrinkled nose. "How could I not?"
Before he could answer, the phone rang. He jumped off his seat and ran to the phone attached to the wall. "Hello? This is Ga – Walter." He looked at Éponine, chuckling underneath his hand; she shook her head, gathering his empty plate.
"You really shouldn't eat so fast. It's not –"
"Oh. Hi, Enjolras!"
She dropped the plate into the sink, the clatter ringing throughout the hole house. Gavroche sniggered and turned to face her, sticking out his tongue. "Give that here!" She held out her hand, her eyes desperate.
"Yeah, Veronica is here."
"Gavroche," she growled, her voice low.
"I guess you can talk to her. But, hey, are you gonna take her out on a date again?"
"Walter!" Éponine pushed Gavroche out of the way and ripped the phone away from his ear. "Go wash those dishes, please," she said, kicking him in the shins, the phone held against her shoulder.
Gavroche skipped to the sink, humming loudly. Éponine slowly put the phone to her ear, clearing her throat. As the phone was old, and still attached to both the wall and a long, twisting cord, Éponine couldn't go out of the kitchen; there would be no privacy for this conversation.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Veronica."
"Hi, Jack," Éponine whispered, twisting the cord around her fingers. "How are you?" She bit her lower lip, trying to keep herself from smiling too broadly. What had gotten into her? One date – one that didn't even end in a kiss or him spending the night like it usually would have if she were home in Florida – and she acted as if it were her first date.
"I'm really good. I hope you – you slept well?" His voice cracked slightly.
"Yeah – yeah, I slept fine."
"Great; good. Say, I was wondering about whether or not you liked Italian food?"
"Sure I do. Why?"
"Would you like to come over for supper tonight?"
A second date! Éponine's heart leaped for joy. "Um, yeah, that can work." She willed her voice to sound under control and calm; inside, she was anything but calm.
"Splendid. Come over to my place at seven then."
"Do you want me to bring anything?" Éponine hoped and prayed he said no, because she had nothing Italian to offer.
"Yeah." She wrinkled her nose. It was one o'clock; she could make it to the store and back with plenty of time to spare in order to get ready. "Just bring your lovely self."
She swallowed and glanced at Gavroche, who was obviously paying close attention to her reactions. She turned away from him and cleared her throat; for Enjolras, that was a pretty cheesy-ass line. But it worked, she supposed. Her stomach twisted and her face heated slightly. "Will do," she whispered breathlessly.
"See you at seven."
"Bye." Éponine hung up and bit her fingernail. "Gavroche!"
He scampered away from behind her, running into his room, slamming the door. She sighed and shook her head, smiling ruefully. Six hours until her second date with Jack Enjolras. The thought would have seemed preposterous to her a few weeks ago, but now it was probably the most appealing idea she'd ever heard. Before she could leave and make use of that six hours to get ready, the phone rang again.
What if he was canceling?
Éponine's heart drummed in her chest as she picked up the phone. The rational part of her mind told her she was being ridiculous, but her rational side had never been too popular with the irrational side of her mind. "Hello?"
"Éponine Jondrette, our agreement was six months of keeping in touch. Not three and then skipping out on me! And that one letter doesn't count for anything."
She breathed a heavy sigh of relief. "Oh, Bailey, it's just you."
"What a wonderful thing to hear," he replied, his tone sharp.
"I'm – I'm sorry." She chuckled, amidst her slight embarrassment. "I thought it was someone else."
"What? Is someone bothering you?"
She shook her head. "No – doesn't matter." Before he could reply with something he probably thought would be witty, Éponine thought of Max suddenly moving to Florida, meeting her friends. She decided to bring it up.
"No, I didn't know about this Max. See! That's why you're supposed to call me." He groaned. "I'll check into it, but I'm not sure it'll be a huge problem."
"Why's that?" If Adrienne still had pictures of her up in her house, and God forbid Max go over there, he couldn't miss the fact that his ex-girlfriend's (no less, parading around under a false name) photo was up in Adrienne's house.
"We've been keeping tabs on your friends. Not too close ones, but close enough to know that they've moved on pretty much."
Éponine couldn't help but feel a sharp twist in her heart. "Oh.."
"Well, don't sound too disappointed. It was bound to happen some time. You disappeared, for Pete's sake! You can't expect them to sit around waiting for a call from you all day."
"I didn't ever expect that!"
Bailey sighed. "No, of course you didn't. Alright. Thanks for the info. Remember: stay in touch, young lady!"
"Yes, sir." She hung up, the excitement of her date with Enjolras fading away into a disappointment.
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July 15th; Enjolras' aparment.
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The clock read six-fifty.
She would be here any moment.
Enjolras checked the table. Everything was in order: plates, silverware, wine glasses. The bread was in the oven and the pasta sauce cooking on the stove. He rubbed his hands together, smiling with satisfaction. Since when had he become such a romantic? Cooking big meals was not ever part of his life before Veronica came around.
His heart rate jumped when he heard a timid knock at the door.
He rolled up his dress shirt sleeves past his elbows and straightened his grey waistcoat. Walking to the door, he felt his limbs seize up with worry and anticipation. He opened the door and smiling shyly.
Veronica smiled, but more broad, more confident. "Hi," she said, brushing past him, leaving the scent of roses in the small foyer. She wore a deep purple dress that fell to just above the knees; already, her shoes were off and on the floor, her bag placed on the seat of one of the bar-stools.
Enjolras cleared his throat and stepped up beside her; his hand wavered above her elbow before it fell to his side. "You look great."
She smiled even wider, if that were possible. "Thanks. You look good, too." (Enjolras just didn't know that she was thinking positively the most inappropriate thoughts at, thanks to his muscled chest and arms.) "What are we having? It smells divine."
Following her as she trailed into the kitchen, Enjolras pointed to the pasta. "My mother's ancient pasta recipe."
She turned around from the stove, pouting her lower lip. "Does that mean you won't give me the recipe if I like it?"
He shook his head, chuckling. "Afraid I can't. The only way you'd ever find it out would be if you married into the family." He clamped his mouth shut, his cheeks reddening. Veronica opened her mouth and then closed it, smiling at her feet. He was thankful she didn't respond.
"It's about ready. Why don't you go sit down?"
"Is there anything I can help with?"
He turned off the stove. "No, I've got it."
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July 15th; Enjolras' apartment.
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When Éponine had said dinner smelled divine, she wouldn't have thought it would taste even more divine than it smelled. Over the course of a two hour long dinner, she'd had two glasses of wine and three – maybe more – helpings of Enjolras' mother's pasta. They'd talked of their childhoods (though Éponine made up mostly everything about hers), and of Éponine's new job as the art teacher. Enjolras had told her about the case June had suddenly dropped. Though he didn't go into much detail, it intrigued her, like it intrigued him.
At nine-thirty, Enjolras glanced at the clock and turned to Éponine. "Where's Walter?"
"He's at a friend's house."
Éponine took note of the way Enjolras glanced at his empty plate and grinned slightly. "Oh." He stood up and reached out his hand for her plate. "Can I take that for you?"
"Oh, yes. Thank you." She handed him the plate and swirled her wine around in her glass, listening to the sounds of the plates hitting the bottom of the sink and Enjolras opened a cabinet and then closing it.
He came back to her side, offering her a light jacket. "I thought we could go for a walk. It's slightly chilly outside, so you may need this."
Éponine smiled and took the jacket, slipping her arms inside. It smelled deeply of Enjolras: mint and pure man. She tried not to breath it in too deeply. He showed her to the door and they walked outside. West Bath at night was hardly New York City, or even Florida for that matter. Nearly every house light was turned off, leaving only the light of the moon to walk by. Enjolras shoved his hands into his pockets; Éponine wrapped the over-sized sleeves around her tightly.
"You like West Bath well-enough, I assume?"
Éponine's head turned to glance at Enjolras for a moment before looking back at the road before her. Thirty feet ahead, two cats ran across the street. "I'm still living here, aren't I?"
Enjolras smirked, nodding. "Touche."
"But, honestly, I do like it. It's really quaint."
"A world away from Kansas." Enjolras stopped walking at the end of the street, turning to face her. In the house behind them, one singular light was on in the kitchen.
Éponine sighed. "Yeah, I suppose so."
"I've always lived in Maine." He walked on, toward a small park on the opposite side of the road. "Not here in West Bath, but Maine is my home."
"Do you like it here?"
Enjolras laughed, sitting down on a bench beneath a large oak tree; Éponine sat down beside him. "I'd probably rather live in Augusta. The commute wouldn't be as long and things would actually happen." He chuckled, folding his hands together in his lap.
"What's keeping you here?"
"At first, I never got around to moving." He look at her hard. "But, that's changed now, I guess."
Éponine swallowed, her throat constricting. He didn't mean her, did he? He wasn't telling her that she was the one keeping him in Augusta, was he? "What changed?"
He shrugged, looking away. "People left my life." He looked back. "And people came into my life."
Éponine nearly puked. Shit, he meant her! That was good, wasn't it? The way her stomach twisted and an army of butterflies were creating a tornado in her chest was a good sign, yes? "Well, I'm glad you're staying – for the time being, at least."
He only nodded. Then he turned his body to face her; Éponine looked away, across the street, her hands fisted in her lap. Leaning forward very hesitantly and in jerky motions, Enjolras' hand came to cradle her cheek. She felt her eyes close; her brain turned into goo when she felt his breath so close to the side of her lips.
Ever so tenderly, Enjolras pressed his lips to the corner of hers. Her eyes squeezed tightly together, relishing in the feel of his hesitance and unskilled nature. Her hand flew to his wrist and gripped it tightly, turning her head to capture his lips fully on hers. They stayed pressed together for a moment before Enjolras pulled away. His placed his forehead on hers, running his hand through her hair, breathing heavily. Though it was certainly not the most heated kiss Éponine had ever experienced, she, too, felt the air leave her chest.
"You," he finally whispered. "I'm staying in West Bath because of you."