Coffee
Title/Prompt - "The Coffee Date," coffee
Author - cassandraclue
Word count - 977
Rating - PG
Summary - Stacey meets Ethan for coffee.
Link to table - click
Author's note - Set during the beginning of Stacey and Claudia's first year of college.
"Stacey!" Ethan called out to me. I spotted him in the back of the coffee shop, sitting on a zebra-print couch below a photograph of 70s punks at Max's Kansas City. I indicated to him that I was heading to the counter, and went to place my order.
Ethan and I have always called these kinds of dates "meeting for coffee," even before we actually even drank coffee. But we were no longer thirteen and fifteen; we were now 18 and 20 and both in college. Like most college students, we regarded coffee as necessary to survival as food and water. So on that day, Ethan had in front of him the black coffee required of all sophomore art school students, and I had a small skinny no-sugar latte. The barista eyed me and my figure, and I could feel the repressed eye roll. Yes, I was already pretty thin, but I wasn't watching my figure--I have Type I Diabetes and have to be careful about my sugar consumption. I wasn't about to launch into a discussion about my medical history with a barista, though, so I accepted my order without commenting on her attitude.
I sat down on the sofa next to Ethan. It was October, and unlike recent years where it felt like the summer lasted until November, it was already pretty cold. When Ethan had called me that day, I had planned on spending the whole day at home, relaxing with the Jonathan Franzen novel I had picked up the day before at the Union Square Barnes and Noble. I've never really been a homebody, but I loved spending time in my new apartment. It was the first place I'd ever lived in without one or both of my parents, and I shared it with Claudia Kishi, my best friend since seventh grade. Claud was a student at Parsons now, studying fashion design. Her keen eye and my own sophisticated tastes--not to sound egotistical or anything--meant that our apartment, despite being decorated on a thrift store budget, was way more attractive than the usual student apartment full of IKEA. My room was decorated in my favorite colors, blue and white, and we had went with a bohemian gypsy-den look for our small living room. I loved spending time there, curling up on the old comfy couch that we had acquired from my dad. Claudia had reupholstered it in brightly-colored brocade fabric she had come across in one of her many trips to the Garment District.
As much I love Claud, I was secretly glad she was back in Stoneybrook, Connecticut that weekend, where she had grown up and to where I had moved in seventh grade, because that meant that I had some solitude and some relaxation time away from the hustle and bustle of the city and from the stress of being a freshman at Columbia and dealing with all of the Core Curriculum classes I had to take. I didn't see what Plato had to do with my future ambition of being the CEO of a couture fashion house, but I guessed that Columbia's faculty knew what they were doing.
But when Ethan called me that morning, he had such a strange urgency in his voice that I cancelled my plans and immediately agreed to meet him at a coffee shop on St. Marks Place.
"So Ethan," I said, taking a sip of my latte. "What have you been up to? I haven't seen you in what feels like forever."
"The usual," he said, laughing a little and brushing his hair out of his eyes. Ethan was forever experimenting with his look, never really deviating from his black top/jeans/boots outfit but it seemed like he always had a new hairstyle or tattoo. This time, his black hair was practically shaved on one side, but was long and constantly falling into his eyes on the other. Not a look that everyone could pull off, but he had the attitude and his face was, as I had first noticed five years ago when we met when he was working as an art handler for family I was baby-sitting for, attractive enough to pull off basically any hairstyle he could think of.
"Painting?" I asked. "What are you working on now?"
Ethan began describing his new series, a confluence of abstract expressionism and pop art. I'm not an artist myself, but after being best friends with an artist, dating an artist (Ethan himself) on and off throughout high school, and growing up in NYC, which has some of the world's best museums and galleries, I knew the lingo pretty well.
"So that about sums it up," he said, laughing a little. "What about you?"
"Well, Columbia is keeping me pretty busy, of course. But last night I got to have serious bonding time with my little brother--his nanny had a family emergency."
My parents had divorced when I was thirteen, and my dad had remarried to a fashion photographer, Samantha Young. Three years ago, she had given birth to Sebastian, or "Sebby," as we called him. I had never thought I would ever have a sibling, and not to sound cliche, but now I couldn't imagine not having one.
I didn't really get to flex my now-dormant baby-sitting muscles with Sebby all that often though, because Samantha wasn't really the stay-at-home type and went back to her fashion photography work as soon as possible. My dad is a pretty high-powered executive and couldn't exactly take time off from work, either. So they hired a nanny, Mathilde. I liked Mathilde, and I was sorry that she had a family emergency that meant she had to go visit her family for a week, but I liked having more time with Sebby, even if it cut into my homework time and my limited socializing time. But it was Saturday, so Dad and Samantha were home with him.
I babbled on about Seb for a while, and Ethan humored me. After some more small talk about our lives, I realized that I still had no idea why Ethan had asked me to come get coffee with him today. I had definitely sensed some urgency when I spoke to him on the phone earlier. And I noticed he was doing things like tearing his napkin into little pieces--totally a sign of nervousness.
"Ethan," I finally said. "Out with it."
"What do you mean?" he asked, feigning innocence.
"I could totally tell that you had an ulterior motive for asking me to coffee--"
An odd look spread across his face.
"Not in THAT way," I said, laughing a little. Ethan and I hadn't done anything in THAT way for six months or so. Our relationship had always been on and off, but our lives were just too different with him in NYC and being older and me in the suburbs. I knew he wouldn't have wanted to go to my prom, for example--it totally wasn't his scene and he was already in his second year of art school--so I didn't even ask him. And having a long distance boyfriend was kind of dumb in high school, anyway. But now we weren't long-distance anymore, and we weren't in high school. There's a big difference between 16 and 18 and 18 and 20. I suddenly wondered if he totally did mean in THAT way.
"Look, Stacey," he said. "I really don't know how to put this. But I figured this weekend was a good time, what with Claudia away at Peaches and Russ's anniversary party and all--"
Hold up. How did Ethan know about Claudia being away? Had I told him on the phone that morning? I quickly reviewed our conversation in my mind. Nope, I hadn't mentioned it...
"A good time to tell me what?" I asked, definitely not sure if I wanted to hear what he had to say.
"I didn't want to say anything unless I knew it was something major, which is why we've waited to tell you."
We? I suddenly knew exactly what Ethan had to say.
"Do you remember that party at Tomas's loft, the one you left early because you had a big test to study for?"
"Yeah," I said. Tomas is one of Ethan's artist friends. I've known him ever since I first started going out with Ethan.
"Well, after you left Claudia and I started talking and-- well, you know Claud and I have always gotten along--" He seemed helpless, like he didn't know what to say next. What could he say, really? I slept with your best friend? Your best friend and I are now an item? We both betrayed you?
I shook those thoughts out of my mind. Ethan and I were "off," and except for that one day in the summer where it seemed like something might have happened if my dad and Samantha hadn't come home when they did, we showed no signs of flipping the switch back to "on." We were older now. Adults, practically. I knew that neither Claudia nor Ethan would ever purposely do something to hurt me. But how had Claudia kept this hidden from me the whole time? After all, we shared an apartment. She had been spending an awful lot of time at the studio lately...
"Ethan, I get what you're trying to say. I totally get it. And that's great. I mean, you guys have so much in common." I forced the corners of my mouth up into a smile, but really I wanted to slap him across the face. But that kind of action, I knew, not only would get us kicked out of the coffee shop, but also would mess up my friendships with Ethan AND Claudia. "I mean, that's totally awesome. I'm so happy for you guys," hoping I sounded at least somewhat sincere.
Ethan looked relieved. "I'm really glad, Stace, I don't want this mess up our friendship, or your friendship with Claudia..."
"No way," I said. This wasn't eighth grade and we weren't going to have a Jeremy Rudolph redux, right? Right.
Ethan drained the last of his coffee in one gulp. I winced, thinking of the bitter taste, or maybe thinking about Ethan and Claudia doing all the things Ethan and I used to...
"Snap out of it, McGill," I commanded myself silently.
"Anyway," he said. "Now that the Big Conversation's out of the way, wanna head to Chelsea and check out some galleries?"
"Can't," I lied. "I have to go over to my dad's at two and take over Sebastian duties."
"Oh," he said, frowning. "I'll walk you to the subway."
I wasn't really going to my dad's, of course, but I let Ethan walk me to the 4 5 6 anyway. He gave me an awkward hug and as he did, I felt my phone buzz. I took it out, and I saw I had a missed call from Chris, this cute guy in my macroeconomics class.
Perhaps part of growing up is realizing that no matter how bad things may seem, all is not lost. Remembering Chris's cute smile and our shared fondness of mathematics, I realized that maybe not everything was lost at all.
Author - cassandraclue
Word count - 977
Rating - PG
Summary - Stacey meets Ethan for coffee.
Link to table - click
Author's note - Set during the beginning of Stacey and Claudia's first year of college.
"Stacey!" Ethan called out to me. I spotted him in the back of the coffee shop, sitting on a zebra-print couch below a photograph of 70s punks at Max's Kansas City. I indicated to him that I was heading to the counter, and went to place my order.
Ethan and I have always called these kinds of dates "meeting for coffee," even before we actually even drank coffee. But we were no longer thirteen and fifteen; we were now 18 and 20 and both in college. Like most college students, we regarded coffee as necessary to survival as food and water. So on that day, Ethan had in front of him the black coffee required of all sophomore art school students, and I had a small skinny no-sugar latte. The barista eyed me and my figure, and I could feel the repressed eye roll. Yes, I was already pretty thin, but I wasn't watching my figure--I have Type I Diabetes and have to be careful about my sugar consumption. I wasn't about to launch into a discussion about my medical history with a barista, though, so I accepted my order without commenting on her attitude.
I sat down on the sofa next to Ethan. It was October, and unlike recent years where it felt like the summer lasted until November, it was already pretty cold. When Ethan had called me that day, I had planned on spending the whole day at home, relaxing with the Jonathan Franzen novel I had picked up the day before at the Union Square Barnes and Noble. I've never really been a homebody, but I loved spending time in my new apartment. It was the first place I'd ever lived in without one or both of my parents, and I shared it with Claudia Kishi, my best friend since seventh grade. Claud was a student at Parsons now, studying fashion design. Her keen eye and my own sophisticated tastes--not to sound egotistical or anything--meant that our apartment, despite being decorated on a thrift store budget, was way more attractive than the usual student apartment full of IKEA. My room was decorated in my favorite colors, blue and white, and we had went with a bohemian gypsy-den look for our small living room. I loved spending time there, curling up on the old comfy couch that we had acquired from my dad. Claudia had reupholstered it in brightly-colored brocade fabric she had come across in one of her many trips to the Garment District.
As much I love Claud, I was secretly glad she was back in Stoneybrook, Connecticut that weekend, where she had grown up and to where I had moved in seventh grade, because that meant that I had some solitude and some relaxation time away from the hustle and bustle of the city and from the stress of being a freshman at Columbia and dealing with all of the Core Curriculum classes I had to take. I didn't see what Plato had to do with my future ambition of being the CEO of a couture fashion house, but I guessed that Columbia's faculty knew what they were doing.
But when Ethan called me that morning, he had such a strange urgency in his voice that I cancelled my plans and immediately agreed to meet him at a coffee shop on St. Marks Place.
"So Ethan," I said, taking a sip of my latte. "What have you been up to? I haven't seen you in what feels like forever."
"The usual," he said, laughing a little and brushing his hair out of his eyes. Ethan was forever experimenting with his look, never really deviating from his black top/jeans/boots outfit but it seemed like he always had a new hairstyle or tattoo. This time, his black hair was practically shaved on one side, but was long and constantly falling into his eyes on the other. Not a look that everyone could pull off, but he had the attitude and his face was, as I had first noticed five years ago when we met when he was working as an art handler for family I was baby-sitting for, attractive enough to pull off basically any hairstyle he could think of.
"Painting?" I asked. "What are you working on now?"
Ethan began describing his new series, a confluence of abstract expressionism and pop art. I'm not an artist myself, but after being best friends with an artist, dating an artist (Ethan himself) on and off throughout high school, and growing up in NYC, which has some of the world's best museums and galleries, I knew the lingo pretty well.
"So that about sums it up," he said, laughing a little. "What about you?"
"Well, Columbia is keeping me pretty busy, of course. But last night I got to have serious bonding time with my little brother--his nanny had a family emergency."
My parents had divorced when I was thirteen, and my dad had remarried to a fashion photographer, Samantha Young. Three years ago, she had given birth to Sebastian, or "Sebby," as we called him. I had never thought I would ever have a sibling, and not to sound cliche, but now I couldn't imagine not having one.
I didn't really get to flex my now-dormant baby-sitting muscles with Sebby all that often though, because Samantha wasn't really the stay-at-home type and went back to her fashion photography work as soon as possible. My dad is a pretty high-powered executive and couldn't exactly take time off from work, either. So they hired a nanny, Mathilde. I liked Mathilde, and I was sorry that she had a family emergency that meant she had to go visit her family for a week, but I liked having more time with Sebby, even if it cut into my homework time and my limited socializing time. But it was Saturday, so Dad and Samantha were home with him.
I babbled on about Seb for a while, and Ethan humored me. After some more small talk about our lives, I realized that I still had no idea why Ethan had asked me to come get coffee with him today. I had definitely sensed some urgency when I spoke to him on the phone earlier. And I noticed he was doing things like tearing his napkin into little pieces--totally a sign of nervousness.
"Ethan," I finally said. "Out with it."
"What do you mean?" he asked, feigning innocence.
"I could totally tell that you had an ulterior motive for asking me to coffee--"
An odd look spread across his face.
"Not in THAT way," I said, laughing a little. Ethan and I hadn't done anything in THAT way for six months or so. Our relationship had always been on and off, but our lives were just too different with him in NYC and being older and me in the suburbs. I knew he wouldn't have wanted to go to my prom, for example--it totally wasn't his scene and he was already in his second year of art school--so I didn't even ask him. And having a long distance boyfriend was kind of dumb in high school, anyway. But now we weren't long-distance anymore, and we weren't in high school. There's a big difference between 16 and 18 and 18 and 20. I suddenly wondered if he totally did mean in THAT way.
"Look, Stacey," he said. "I really don't know how to put this. But I figured this weekend was a good time, what with Claudia away at Peaches and Russ's anniversary party and all--"
Hold up. How did Ethan know about Claudia being away? Had I told him on the phone that morning? I quickly reviewed our conversation in my mind. Nope, I hadn't mentioned it...
"A good time to tell me what?" I asked, definitely not sure if I wanted to hear what he had to say.
"I didn't want to say anything unless I knew it was something major, which is why we've waited to tell you."
We? I suddenly knew exactly what Ethan had to say.
"Do you remember that party at Tomas's loft, the one you left early because you had a big test to study for?"
"Yeah," I said. Tomas is one of Ethan's artist friends. I've known him ever since I first started going out with Ethan.
"Well, after you left Claudia and I started talking and-- well, you know Claud and I have always gotten along--" He seemed helpless, like he didn't know what to say next. What could he say, really? I slept with your best friend? Your best friend and I are now an item? We both betrayed you?
I shook those thoughts out of my mind. Ethan and I were "off," and except for that one day in the summer where it seemed like something might have happened if my dad and Samantha hadn't come home when they did, we showed no signs of flipping the switch back to "on." We were older now. Adults, practically. I knew that neither Claudia nor Ethan would ever purposely do something to hurt me. But how had Claudia kept this hidden from me the whole time? After all, we shared an apartment. She had been spending an awful lot of time at the studio lately...
"Ethan, I get what you're trying to say. I totally get it. And that's great. I mean, you guys have so much in common." I forced the corners of my mouth up into a smile, but really I wanted to slap him across the face. But that kind of action, I knew, not only would get us kicked out of the coffee shop, but also would mess up my friendships with Ethan AND Claudia. "I mean, that's totally awesome. I'm so happy for you guys," hoping I sounded at least somewhat sincere.
Ethan looked relieved. "I'm really glad, Stace, I don't want this mess up our friendship, or your friendship with Claudia..."
"No way," I said. This wasn't eighth grade and we weren't going to have a Jeremy Rudolph redux, right? Right.
Ethan drained the last of his coffee in one gulp. I winced, thinking of the bitter taste, or maybe thinking about Ethan and Claudia doing all the things Ethan and I used to...
"Snap out of it, McGill," I commanded myself silently.
"Anyway," he said. "Now that the Big Conversation's out of the way, wanna head to Chelsea and check out some galleries?"
"Can't," I lied. "I have to go over to my dad's at two and take over Sebastian duties."
"Oh," he said, frowning. "I'll walk you to the subway."
I wasn't really going to my dad's, of course, but I let Ethan walk me to the 4 5 6 anyway. He gave me an awkward hug and as he did, I felt my phone buzz. I took it out, and I saw I had a missed call from Chris, this cute guy in my macroeconomics class.
Perhaps part of growing up is realizing that no matter how bad things may seem, all is not lost. Remembering Chris's cute smile and our shared fondness of mathematics, I realized that maybe not everything was lost at all.