"Austen?" she hears someone say behind her and she rolls her eyes. Of course, it's Austen, she wants to say, but she doesn't get to because the person continues, "I prefer Dickens or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle himself, but seeing someone actually reading Austen is somewhat refreshing." She hears that person chuckle. It is deep and it resonates deeply, she can almost feel the vibrations. It isn't enough that he has an accent. He just happens to have a sexy laugh, too.

She doesn't turn around, doesn't even lift her eyes from her book when she says, "Good choices, glad to know you aren't another John Green fanboy, or god forbid, Nicholas Sparks." The retort earns her another chuckle, and she fights with herself not to smile or laugh herself.

It surprises her, to find a man here. It isn't wrong, just strange. Perhaps when her friend, Emma, has told her that they were to attend a book club meeting, she has anticipated a bunch of girls or women going crazy over the next Nicholas Sparks novel or that best seller 'Fifty Shades of Grey'. She hasn't anticipated a currently faceless British man who likes Dickens or Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

"I'm glad you aren't," he says back with a laugh. "The book choices of some people nowadays, well, let's just settle on there really is no accounting for taste."

This finally makes her turn around and she has to swallow a gasp when she comes face to face with a man with piercing blue eyes, equipped with a disarming smile. She casts her eyes down and shakes her head, trying to remember what it is that they are talking about.

"I guess there isn't," she agrees, lamely (even she knows that), and nods her head. "But I'm sticking with my classics, thank you very much."

He grins. "Well, well, a woman after my own heart," he says, and his words make her heart skip a beat.

She only blushes at this, and she hopes to God he doesn't notice. And so she avoids his eyes, burying them once more in her book, pretending that he isn't there. God, she doesn't even know him.

As if he can hear her thoughts, he extends his hand, and says, "I'm Robert. Robert Crawley, it's a pleasure to meet you."

She looks up, finds him smiling at her, and she isn't able to give him one back, "I'm Cora. Cora Levinson. And it's a pleasure to meet you too."

"When my sister dragged me into this I had not thought I'd find someone who actually reads something other than Nicholas Sparks," he says as he takes the seat before her.

"Me too," she agrees, now watching him acutely, instead of averting her eyes from him. He isn't too bad to look at, after all. As a matter of fact, he could quite probably be a cure for sore eyes. "I didn't think I'd meet anyone who doesn't fangirl over him." Her disdain is barely hidden, and she bites her lip.

He laughs at this and shakes his head. "What do you say I buy you coffee and we can talk about your clear disdain for Nicholas Sparks."

Smooth, she thinks. But she smiles at him, amused, albeit a little embarrassed and nods her head.

Why the hell not?

Fin

6/9/15

Prompt: Cobert meeting at a book club and are the only non Nicholas Sparks (/John Green) fans.