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Post by Christian Patrick Elliot on Mar 30, 2007 10:15:49 GMT 7
It was raining on the outside and pouring on the inside. The clouds were threatening, dark and dreary from the hours of rain that felt the urge to bombard the city.
Christian had been on his way back to the city when the downpour began. He often found himself spending Saturdays back at Rutherford, checking on his old journalism professor and offering a helping-hand every now and again. On a frequent basis, he even spent time with journalism majors, answering questions and helping them with projects. Sometimes it was like he never graduated at all.
Now, rather than take his chances in the storm, he took shelter in the Starbucks not far from the university. By the time he had arrived, the coffee shop was already crowded. He had managed to find a two-seat table in the corner, pressed up near the window. It was poetic, almost... sitting there with his non-fat vanilla latte watching the rain. Unfortunately, it did not look like it would be slowing down anytime soon.
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Post by Alexia DeMarco on Mar 30, 2007 10:38:58 GMT 7
Lexi had been doing some shopping in town, more to pass the time, then anything else. She had seen a couple of things she liked, and tried them on, but in the end, decided not to buy them. As the sky grew darker, and the rain threatened to get worse, she decided she wanted to enjoy one of her favorite past times, a sweet coffee drink from Starbucks.
As she is crossing the street, the skies open up, and she is starting to regret the choice. Her small umbrella is keeping her hair dry, but not much else. As her blazer and jeans are getting soaked, she makes a dash to the door. Stepping inside, she realizes that a place to sit was not going to be easy to find. Ordering a non-fat vanilla latte, she waits by the bar, until it was ready. Then she starts to look for a seat, she wanted to give her feet a rest for a while.
Only seeing one empty seat, at a table for two, she approaches it slowly, and she sees a guy sitting there. Thinking he was kinda cute, she puts on her best smile, and stands behind the empty chair. "Hey, is this seat taken? My feet are killing me." She didn't think it was, it had been empty since she had walked in. But it was always better to ask. And maybe she would have someone to talk to, while she waited for the rain to slow down.
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Post by Christian Patrick Elliot on Mar 30, 2007 10:50:12 GMT 7
A feminine voice pulled Christian's eyes from the rainy street to the woman standing behind the empty chair, requesting permission to sit down. He offered her a small smile, creating only the most subtle of dimples on his cheeks, and shook his head. "You're welcome to sit," he said.
Being social did not come naturally to Christian. Not genuine conversation, at least. Growing up, he was in social circles that did not require deep relationships, much less serious discussions. Although fine at the time, it had developed a barrier for his current lifestyle. He found himself pondering now if he needed to carry on a conversation to be polite, or leave the woman in peace. Perhaps she did not want to talk, she just wanted to enjoy her coffee in silence. It wasn't like she had much other selection in seating.
Lack of self-confidence seemed to kick in, per usual, and drove Christian into his usual silence. Rather than look out the window again, for fear of appearing completely disinterested in conversation, he looked at his coffee mug before bringing it to his mouth once more to take a drink.
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Post by Alexia DeMarco on Mar 30, 2007 11:12:34 GMT 7
Seeing the dimples in his cheeks only made Lexi smile a little more. As she pulls out the chair, and sits down, she sets her paper coffee cup on the table. Crossing her legs, she hooks the folded-up umbrella on the corner of the chair, and then turns to pick up the paper cup, as she looks at him, smiles and says, "Thanks, there was no where else to sit."
He seemed a little distant, she wondered if he was always like that, or there was something else going on. As she pondered that, she watches as he reaches for the coffee mug, and then points at it with a finger on her free hand. "You know, I should have thought of that, mugs always taste better than paper cups. But you always have to ask for them."
Suddenly thinking that she was bothering him, Lexi stares at her own cup for a minute, and then looks at him. "I'm sorry, I'm intruding, it's a bad habit. I'll just stop doing that... right now." Feeling a little embarrassed, she brings the paper cup to her lips, and blows silently on the top, to help cool the drink enough so she could at least sip it. And it would give her something to do, while she waited for the rain to end.
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Post by Christian Patrick Elliot on Mar 30, 2007 11:33:50 GMT 7
Christian nodded at her first statement. It was true: the coffee shop was practically bursting at the seams. Everyone seemed to want inside, not for the coffee but the dry interior. It appeared, from once glance outside, as though the people on the street had disappeared. Then again, that explained the sudden inflow of customers to the Starbucks.
Apparently conversation did seem to be the path to go in this particular scenario. Christian smiled and looked down at his mug, nodding in affirmation at her words. He was a regular at this Starbucks - it was often his only stop on the way back to his apartment after a day on campus. The staff knew him by name, and always served his drink in a mug rather than a plastic cup. "I'm a regular," he said after a moment, his accent deep in his throat. A wonderful way to respond, he thought to himself shamefully.
Luckily, she spoke again before he had too much time to gather his thoughts and say anything else. She seemed embarassed at starting a conversation, looking down at her cup and hushing. Christian, not wanting in the least to appear rude of uninviting, chuckled softly and set his mug down on the table. "You aren't intruding in the least," he said with the same smile as before. A few seconds lingered between, just awkward enough for him to introduce himself. "Christian Elliot," he said, hovering his hand over the table to shake hers.
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Post by Alexia DeMarco on Mar 30, 2007 12:03:33 GMT 7
She glanced at him, when he said he was a regular, and look of understanding came over her face. She hadn't been in this particular Starbucks that often, and so she couldn't make a claim like that one. A small smile crept over her lips, as he said his name, it seemed like he was willing to talk after all. As his hand hovered over the table, she reached for it with hers, as she said, "Lexi DeMarco, pleased to meet you, Christian Elliot." His hand felt firm and warm in hers, and she appreciated the gesture. Lingering for a moment, she finally released his hand, and reached for her cup.
Blowing on the opening, she looks at him, trying to meet his eyes with hers. Wanting to keep the conversation light for now, she says, "What brings you to Huntley? You don't go to Rutherford, do you?" He did seem a little older, or was that just her imagination? If she thought about it, he could be almost any age. And thinking that made her a little curious to find out more.
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Post by Christian Patrick Elliot on Mar 30, 2007 12:19:43 GMT 7
His smile faded, but the corners of his lips remained turned just slightly - just enough to hint that he was still in a pleasant mood despite the rain. His dark eyes were soft; though not necessarily inviting, they were warm and relaxed. She met his hand with an equally firm grip, much like his own. His hand seemed to envelop hers, and once again he felt the twinge of discomfort at towering over the crowd: or her hand, in this case.
He coughed, clearing his throat and regaining his confidence while she attempted to meet his eyes. Although he did not suggest any lack of confidence on the outside, he took his time sipping from his latte before looking up at her. When he did, she took the initiative to continue the conversation. With one hand on his mug, Christian ran his hand across the back of his neck. "I don't anymore, no," he said, shaking his head almost regretfully. "I graduated two years ago, actually."
Already he felt like he had spoken too much, but he felt the need to answer the rest of her question. Glancing back out the window momentarily, he said, "I help the journalism class out on Saturdays, if I'm not working." A touch of realization tripped across his mind at the last moment, and he added, "I live in the city."
He offered the same tiny smile, raising his mug once more and letting it hover in mid-air while he reciprocated the question. "Are you a student there?" She wasn't a journalism student, assuming she did attend Rutherford. He would have recognized her. Christian practically knew all of the journalism majors this year. She definitely wasn't one of them.
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Post by Alexia DeMarco on Mar 30, 2007 12:53:02 GMT 7
He seemed to be okay, he didn't seem to mind talking to her. But in some ways, Lexi thought it made him uncomfortable. Maybe in the way he was rubbing the back of his neck. But she wasn't entirely sure. And then he said something about graduating two years ago, and she thought he had to be around 24. But he really didn't look that much older than her. She was a little surprised when he talked about helping out the journalism class. But when he said that he lived in the city, it started making sense to her. Former student, graduate, came back on the weekends to help out his old department.
As he asked if she were a student there, she smiles slightly, and nods. "Yeah, I'm a sophomore, finishing up my second year. My major is in Art History. It's a strange choice for me, I'm still not sure I'm going to stick with it. I just got interested in some paintings at a museum, and it was suddenly something I wanted to try." Wow, she was talking a little bit more about her major than she usually did to anyone. She had been thinking about it lately, and wondering if had been the right choice for her.
Finally taking a sip of her coffee, she thinks for a moment, still curious about him. She then looks at Cristian, smiling a little, and she says, "Are you a writer, or a photographer? Oh, I'm assuming you work at a paper." Scrunching her face up, like she was cringing, she wonders if she was making a mistake about him. "Am I completely wrong about that?" Lexi felt she might upset him if she made too many assumptions. She hoped that her curiosity was not going too far.
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Post by Christian Patrick Elliot on Mar 30, 2007 21:16:23 GMT 7
He nodded and smiled while she talked about her major. Having grown up in such a tight-reined and perfect-posture environment, it was often difficult for Christian to break through and have a natural, flowing conversation. With his family and their friends, of equal financial wealth, topics such as politics, the economy, and the weather in Hawaii tended to be the central points of focus. Real, genuine topics were never breached. It was almost as though it was too risky to upset or discomfort anyone with a personal choice.
"You'd get along with my sister," he said with a small, loving smile at the thought of his older sister. He adored Grace, he always had, and missed her now that she had moved to Europe. It appeared, as the years progressed, she had no true intent of returning to the States, much less Chicago, to see her family. She kept in touch, yes, but a barrier still remained between her and their parents. "She works at the Uffizi Gallery in Florence," he said. He wrapped his hands around his mug and shifted his weight, adjusting to a more comfortable position in the wooden chair. "She's one of the head curators."
Life had always been different with Grace. She was a brilliant young woman, there was no mistaking that. She had excelled in various areas of her school career, flourishing in art, math, and history. When she entered high school, she discovered she could pick up on languages quicker than most students. After one year of Spanish, she grew bored and switched to Italian. It had proven worthwhile, helping her score a job most people only dreamed about.
She smiled at him and asked about his career. The thought of being a photographer made him smile, and he looked down at his mug as he shook his head. "I work at the New York Daily News. I cover a lot of special interest columns, but I'm far from a photographer," he said, glancing back up at her before taking another drink. Clearing his throat and setting the mug down completely, he added, "Unfortunately my artistic eye could use a little work."
With that, he smiled at her, still keeping his dimples hidden from view with the simple, slight up-turn of his lips. It was pleasant in itself, since his teeth rarely saw the light of day. Although not an unhappy person, Christian was too reserved to give anyone a broad smile very often. He used to laugh, quite a bit, but it had faded over time. Life had picked up the same, serious routine and offered no alternative. Perhaps he was just getting used to it.
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Post by Alexia DeMarco on Mar 31, 2007 9:00:30 GMT 7
Christian seemed to actually be listening to her, as Lexi talked about her major. She couldn't bring it up with her parents, they would try to talk her out of it, given a chance. But this stranger seemed to understand what she was going through, and almost be sympathetic. Or was she imagining all of that? As he mentioned his sister, and the gallery in Italy that she worked at, mild surprise crosses the fine features of her face. He seemed to know something about what she was studying, and that was a little unusual. "Wow, really? That gallery has a couple of da Vinci's, and a large collection from the Renaissance Florentine schools, if I remember right. Yeah, maybe I would get along with her."
And the smile on his face made Lexi realize that she didn't have to worry about making Christian angry. It was a pleasing smile, and she returned it, with a warm, large smile of her own. As he talked about his work at the paper, and how he wasn't really a photographer, she though that he was just being modest. Wanting to find out more, she decides to joke with him about it. "But you do take photographs, right? They have to be better than some of the photos I take of the people in my dorm. I mean, college kids, in cramped rooms, eating pizza, they can't compare to some of your 'special interest columns'. And I bet your 'artistic eye' is just fine."
Shaking her head in mock seriousness, Lexi takes a sip of her coffee, and thinks that, on some level, Christian must be a little sad. She begins to wonder what it would sound like, to make him laugh. It would take some effort on her part, to find out what he would find funny, and to get him to laugh about it. Even a chuckle might be good, to help lighten him up. But that was something to work on later, if she had a chance.
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Post by Christian Patrick Elliot on Mar 31, 2007 10:51:28 GMT 7
Christian was not quite sure why the woman appeared surprised when he spoke of the Italian gallery. Then again, it was common knowledge for the Elliot family.
Travel was among one of the top discussion points, as was art. His mother was practically obsessed with anything even remotely resembling artistic creativity. Their house had been stocked with photographs, paintings, sculptures, and trinkets from all over the world. It was her passion when she wasn't working. She might not be able to paint anything, but she had money to buy from people who could.
At the joke on photography, he raised an eyebrow and shook his head more loosely. She had no idea. "No, I can promise yours are much better. I'd even be willing to bet on it," he said with a half-smile and nod that suggested it was clearly the truth. "I'm artistic with words, not much else, unfortunately."
The paper actually hired photographers to go and take pictures of the scene or whatever interesting might be occuring that week. Christian had always been thankful for this reserve. Each of the Elliot children seemed to get their own gift: with Grace it was art, Bianca it was photography, and Christian had a way with words.
"I've never really played with a camera for fun. That would be my younger sister's area of expertise." Suddenly feeling as though he was taking up the entire conversation with his words, Christian closed his mouth. He did not want to appear a chatterbox, even though he was far from it.
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Post by Alexia DeMarco on Apr 1, 2007 3:51:34 GMT 7
Looking back up at Christian, Lexi's not quite sure that she believes him when he says that her photos would be better than his. She had met some guys like him before, quiet, modest, but talented. It was different for her, though, growing up with two athletic, loud, and competitive brothers, but it was a nice change. Giving him a slightly sideways glance of disbelief, she returns his smile with a small one of her own. "I don't know, I might have to take you up on that bet. But I'll have to read some of your work, just to get an idea of how artistic your words can get."
At the mention of a younger sister, Lexi thinks Christian may be talking about a different one. And again, she is curious, and she decides to ask him about it. "That would be another sister, not the one in Italy, I'm thinking. How many sisters do you have? And do you have any brothers?" Maybe she was trying to find out more about him, but he had volunteered the information. And she didn't think that she was asking anything that she shouldn't be asking.
Taking another sip of her coffee, it was cool enough to drink slowly. She was in no hurry, it was actually nice having a conversation like this with someone she barely knew. Sometimes she wondered if she spent too much time on campus, and not enough time away. It was always good to find new and different people to talk with, and to understand how other people saw things. Sometimes it was very different, compared to her view, and her way of thinking.
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