Chapter 1

Ripping a hole in a pair of pants is usually insignificant. Even a fashion statement as of lately. But to Clara it meant having to once again take a needle and thread to sew up yet another tear. Another rip in her work pants, that were seriously past due. And it wasn't even just this hole in her jeans, it was like life was just telling her that her life was falling apart at the seams.

Once again, Clara would have to put a quick bandage over a series of never-ending problems.

Not to mention the crisp fall air was already chilling her to the bone and this hole by her knee certainly did not help.

Cursing what was already a bad start to the early morning, Clara skipped through the doors of the quaint coffee shop and readily welcomed the warmth. The smell of hot coffee did much to brighten her mood.

With a bright smile, she chirped a quick hello at the young man behind the counter, finishing up his latest order.

"Hey Oscar."

The tall, blonde kid peered over his espresso machine to see who had called him, smiling back in realization.

"Hey Clara."

By the time Clara had shrugged her coat off and wrapped the green apron around her waist, heat finally settled back into her. With cheeks still stained red from the bitter cold, she pulled her dark, straight hair messily into a low ponytail, ready to jump into the 6-hour shift ahead.

Work was bothersome but a place she could turn her mind off for the time being. Customers were always in a rush and condescending, but it was still nice. Being a 25-year-old student in the middle of New York City wasn't the most glorifying life. Maybe if you had money in the bank and a big apartment to go home to. For Clara, she had to work hard and do so with little sleep, and even smaller means. But it was ok. Clara had made peace with that for a while now.

"Did you study for Human Sexualities," Oscar asked over the sound of steaming milk.

Clara looked at him sheepishly, while pulling espresso shots, "I did."

Unconvinced Oscar raised an eyebrow, "Oh yeah?"

Defeatedly, Clara broke his gazed and chuckled, "Well, yeah and no. I kind of gave up by the end of Chapter 5, I just couldn't seem to retain anything."

"And I was so tired last night," Clara continued, emphasizing on the 'so.'

Oscar called out an order then returned to her, "Give up a shift or two."

Clara restrained from rolling her eyes, "You know that's not possible."

With those big blue eyes that looked ever so concerned, Oscar opened his mouth but not before Clara cut him off, warning playfully,

"Don't."

Backing off, Oscar raised both hands and shrugged his shoulders, knowing better than to argue with Clara.

As fast as the morning rush came, it tapered off, allowing the two of them to wipe counters off and restock. With a washcloth in hand, Clara scrubbed the dirty fingerprints off the front door, all the while watching the people pass to and from in front of her. In such a big city, who would have ever thought it would feel so damn lonely sometimes?

Lost in her thoughts of the piling schoolwork sitting at home, untouched, Clara reached down to grab the glass cleaner left on the floor. Crouching down, hidden from eyesight, the door swung forcibly open and right into her head. With a surprised, painful yelp, Clara was forcibly launched onto the ground, her butt very ungracefully, catching her fall.

Stars exploded behind her eyes as her hands instinctively flew to the painful spot on her crown. Clara could only muster a meager groan. Could this day get any better?

"Shit. Shit, are you ok?"

Clara certainly was not, but the embarrassment that seeped deep within her prevented her from honesty. Nodding through tears, she waved her free hand nonchalantly,

"Oh yeah. Yeah, it's fine. I'm-I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying attention."

Humiliation burned her and she begged internally for this interaction to be over.

"No really, are you ok? I got you pretty good there."

Finally mustering up the courage to look up at the individual who had practically popped her skull open, a man in shaded glasses stared at her with a worried expression. At this point in her life, Clara had gotten used to feeling small and unimportant in comparison to others. She was rarely flustered around people and fully accepted her dull, modest persona but standing in the presence of this man made her feel like an ant.

In a slow fluid motion, he crouched to her level. With such proximity, his rich cologne invaded her scenes and the smell of whiskey combined with pine trees clouded her nostrils. The aroma felt warm and cozy like a fire on a cold, winter's night.

Dark pupils, with bits of golden rays stared intensely at her through dark long eyelashes. She stared back, dumbfounded, with big green orbs. The midday sun seemed to soak into his tan skin and chocolate hair, that had been blown back in a hairstyle that deliberately meant he tried but didn't. And he really didn't need to try. Albeit she thought he would look much more refined without that goatee, nonetheless he was striking.

That small feeling Clara had seemed to rid off years ago came rushing back in.

"I'm-I'm sorry," Clara stated. Again.

She could have smacked herself. She was starting to wish the door had just knocked her out entirely at this point.

The man smirked slightly,

"I hit you. You realize that?"

His voice was both strong and smooth. Confident. The complete opposite to Clara.

Overwhelmed by his nearness, Clara couldn't seem to gather an answer and an awkward silence befell the two of him. Hinting at her difficulty, a smirk formed at the corner of his lips. Ending the lull, he extended a large hand to her. Timidly she accepted, and with ease, he promptly righted her.

"Really, are you ok? Here-let me take a look."

"No!" Clara exclaimed a little too loudly, trying to avoid further contact.

"I mean, it really doesn't hurt, just a little bump."

Nice save, Clara, she hissed at herself.

With a cocked eyebrow, he reached into his pocket,

"Well, if you won't let me take a look, will you at least let a doctor make sure you're ok? And if you're not, let me cover any trouble."

With that he plopped a business card into her palm. The paper felt thick and heavy. Clara brought it closer to her vision, slightly tilting it back and forth, the shiny letters reflecting in the daylight.

"Tony," she read out loud.

"That's me," he smiled back.

She blinked several times, realizing her impoliteness.

"I'm Clara."

Tony grinned, "Pretty name."

Her face immediately warmed, and Clara cursed the obvious red that colored her cheeks.

Saving her from any further embarrassment, Oscar came running to her aide.

"Clara, are you ok? Here."

Oscar pressed an ice pack to her injury, pulling it back a bit to access if any real damage had occurred.

"Oh, thanks Oscar. No, really I'm fine."

Really, she just wanted all the fussing to stop. With a quick glance, she nodded at Tony, seeking to slither away as quickly as possible.

"Well, thank you, I..um…sorry again."

And like that she skipped to the back room, to finally hide in her indignity. Standing by the employee lockers, she released a breath she didn't even realize she was holding, still pushing the ice against her now throbbing head. Clara slumped in the single metal chair and bore her eyes into the grueling, blinding work lights above. She flailed her legs out, wishing for one easy day. God, one easy hour even.

Just like that, hands were upon her.

"Whoa, whoa!" Clara jumped in surprise.

Oscar separated himself from her,

"Seriously Clara, are you ok? You got slammed pretty hard."

The image of her getting cracked and flailing on the floor made a giggle escape her throat, which turned into doubled over laughing. Oscar looked shocked at her reaction, then joined her in her laughter. They sighed simultaneously, concluding their amusement.

Oscar looked out the small window that lay on the opposite wall.

"Damn, who is that guy?"

Curious as to what he meant; she turned her head. Outside Tony stepped into a ridiculously expensive, shiny car. With a suitcase in one hand, and a coffee in the other a personal driver held the back door of the vehicle open for him. She scoffed; he even had a driver.

Jesus.

/

Usually, Clara didn't particularly look forward to her return home. The small studio in which she resided was small and cramped, not notably welcoming. It did its job, giving her a place to rest and eat. Not a place she went out of her way to invite anyone over as it barely fit her in it. But today she practically jumped through the doorway.

Not bothering to remove the pile of clean clothes from her bed (maybe dirty by the smell of them) she dropped on top of the clutter. Back and forth she ran her slim fingers over the goose egg that had formed on her forehead. Regret picked at her for not immediately changing out of her work clothes, as the pungent smell of coffee and cleaner would encompass her mattress.

With a sigh, she slumped her way to her bathroom, finally looking at the toll the day had on her. The mirror exposed the ugly bruise bore across her brow.

Great.

The steam from hot water pouring from the shower head loosened her tight shoulders and she vigorously scrubbed her hair. Clara felt tired. Immensely. It was no secret that the last few years had squandered her. It was blatant. And God, was she tired.

She wrapped herself in a warm towel and slowly walked to her single window that was littered in bright, colored lights from the world outside. It seemed everything around her was so full of life, and yet here she was, withering away. An observer, never to really be a part of it. Clara felt doomed to watch life pass her by. Maybe God, if there even was one, got lazy with her.

Deciding it was time to put the day to rest, Clara cleared the laundry from her bed. Crawling under the comforter, her weary bones sighed, finally resting. Turning on her side, Tony's business card caught her eye on top of the mess that littered her bed side table. Reaching out from under the blanket, she delicately plucked the paper up.

Not much adorned the card. It was meticulously clean. A business card from someone who obviously had his shit together, and she was someone who so obviously did not. She felt silly for even being in the company of someone like him.

Tony Stark, she read to herself, and like that, drifted off to sleep.