Coffee And Autumn Leaves: A Jesse Eisenberg Fanfic

Three months later

Three months had passed; and we were meeting again, as friends. It was irrational, that I even had to clarify this with myself. Because we had never more than friends. So, we'd spent time together and said a few pretentious things. That was it.

When I see him, all hope echos away. He's skinny, idiosyncratic and handsome. Inconsistently shaved, and wearing a faded red T-shirt. Painfully beautiful. He's making me feel self-conscious and he isn't even next to me yet.

“Good afternoon,” he says. I almost wince at the sound of his voice, the seductive Queens lilt I'd tried so hard to forget.

“Afternoon,” I say, trying to smile. Jesse turns on his heel and we walk back up the busy street. As we walk, he delicately but possessively places a hand on the small of my back to steer me out the way of people.

New York is busy enough that people don't pay much attention to anyone else, but I smiled inwardly, as I see a few girls eyes linger on him as the rush past.

He opened the door to Starbucks, and we step inside. The buzz of the street was replaced with the gentle hum of coffee machines.

“Mocha?” He asks. Wow. He remembered. I nod and pick a pair of chairs arranged around a circular table. I sit and wait. Soon, he arrives and sets a tray down on the table.

“How have you been?” He asks, because social conventions have condemned us to do so.

“Fine,” I lie, picking up my coffee. “You?”

“Good,” he says wrapping his long fingers around his cup.

“How's the auditions going?” He asks in a knowing way.

“Ok I guess. I mean, I'm testing for a lot of stuff and losing out on the final round,” I admit. “I'm beginning to think my time is running out,” I add bitterly.

Jesse shakes his head.

“Young people go to the cinema more than any other demographics. So it's not very unusual to be a success movie actor as a young person. It's unusual to be successful at anything else,” he says, in a tone somewhere between encouraging and mocking.

“Gee, thanks for the soliloquy,” I say with a raise eyebrow.

“I'm trying to help.” He starts, “I'm sorry I can't offer you parts like Franco can.” he finishes sarcastically.

I wince at his name. James had offered me parts in numerous artistic projects he was doing, these pretentious and stupid things he'd written. But I’d turned them down. As much as I like James, I didn't want to be handed parts. Jeez. Why was be being so passive aggressive?

"But isn't that what Woody Allen did with you? Maybe he didn't hand you your career, albeit. But he must be responsible for keeping it going.” I retort.

A emotion flashes across his face, too quick for me to register which one.

I’d touched a nerve too.

I sit back in my chair and circle my pinky around the top of my cup. Id won, yet he was smiling. He leans forward, towards me, and says;

“I'd almost forgotten how much I like you.”

I leaned forward too.

“I wish I could say the same about you,” I tease.

The rest of our conversation goes smoothly, we tiptoe around dangerous areas, such as Woody Allen and James Franco.

As I'm standing up to leave Jesse says, “You could come back to my apartment?" I think back to the latest time those words fell from his lips and what the implied.

“Sure,” I say. Once again we walk in silence until we reach an expensive looking apartment block. We step into the elevator and as soon as he presses the button for his floor, he turns back to me and presses his lips to mine. Oh. I step back, in shock. He opens his mouth, probably to apologise but I get there first.

“Oh shit. Sorry,” I say sarcastically, “I'd forgotten about your superiority complex.” Then launch myself back into the kiss. I can feels him smiling as his lips move against mine. The evaluator door opens and we step into his apartment. He places his hands on my hips and I feel myself giving in, letting all my worries of inadequacy fade away.