The encounter with the rather condescending man in the turtleneck soon proved to be only the first of many blots in Charlotte's week. The Northanger Abbey essay that he had set for the UZS2101 undergrads turned out to be a nightmare, as several of the students seemed convinced that Charlotte had never heard of Sparknotes.
They had gleefully lifted chunks of text from the McAnalyses that Sparknotes was famous for, and Charlotte had spent Tuesday and Wednesday crossly slashing at the damning essays with an angry red pen.
Brownson had somehow also suckered her into covering Moira's classes while she recovered from a bout of chicken pox (Charlotte was torn between teasing her for catching a child's disease and begging her on her knees to come back, and never mind if the undergrads ran screaming when they saw her spots.)
Understandably, Charlotte was very much looking forward to a quiet Thursday at Cafe Radiohead and a much-anticipated re-reading of 'Magnetic Fields', her very favourite E. R. Torrington novel, and arguably the man's magnum opus.
On Thursday, it rained.
It was still raining after lunchtime, and Charlotte decided to risk the 15-minute walk from her flat to Cafe Radiohead without an umbrella. It turned out to be a decision she would regret, because when she finally arrived, she was perplexed to see a few customers standing outside in the rain, looking just as confused as she was at the 'CLOSED' sign still displayed on the door.
Charlotte checked her watch. It was already past two, so where was everyone? Rain dripped down her neck and seeped into her clothes, and she ignored the stab of irritation when he saw Turtleneck standing nearby, smirking under a large luxurious umbrella.
"What happened?" Charlotte asked Alex, another regular who did nothing but play games on his iPad at the cafe.
Alex shrugged. "I don't know, I came by this morning and they were closed, so I thought I'd come back after lunch." Unlike Charlotte, Alex didn't seem to mind being wet, merely pulling up his hoodie. "Maybe Sean's sick. I saw him looking pretty weird yesterday."
"Ah." Charlotte didn't know what else to say; this was frankly the longest conversation she had ever had with Alex. She nodded in thanks and wandered off, shielding her eyes from the rain. She would wait fifteen minutes, and if it still wasn't open, she would head over to the X Factor, an annoyingly loud cafe nearby that seemed to take delight in playing the entire discography of Ed Sheeran.
She stiffened when she realised he was no longer alone, and rain was no longer seeping into her clothes. Turning around, she fought back a sigh when he realised Turtleneck was now standing next to her, sharing his umbrella. "Are you always this masochistic?" Turtleneck said, the corner of his lips crooking up in a slight smile.
"Pardon me?" Charlotte decided her best refuge was pretended ignorance.
"Well, first you insist on subjecting yourself to crappy authors. Then you deliberately walk about in the rain with no umbrella, getting wet." Turtleneck shrugged. "Seems to me you're a glutton for punishment."
"Must be true, because here I am, talking to you," Charlotte said cheerfully, and to her surprise, Turtleneck was ducking his head in laughter. Still, shelter was shelter, and Charlotte wasn't foolhardy enough to refuse, even if Turtleneck was standing a little too close, close enough that Charlotte could smell a hint of the clean, earthy cologne he was wearing.
"Do you come here every day?" Turtleneck asked when he was done laughing, and Charlotte raised her eyebrows at him. Considering that they hadn't even introduced themselves properly yet, Turtleneck seemed genuinely interested in the answer, and Charlotte wondered if it would just give him fodder to poke more fun at E. R. Torrington.
"Just a few times a week," Charlotte said, deciding that there was no harm in being friendly. Which she would have been with this chap, if he hadn't called E. R. Torrington a talentless hack for no good reason other than to rile up a complete stranger. "It's nice and quiet here."
"It is," Turtleneck said reasonably. Now he was tilting his head a little at Charlotte, that generous mouth widening into a proper smile this time. "I'm Eric."
"Charlotte." No last names, then. Charlotte wondered if that was because Eric didn't want her rounding up all the other E. R. Torrington fans and forming a lynch mob to hunt him down. Thankfully, Charlotte could see Armand hurrying to the entrance of the cafe, soliciting a 'Thank fuck!' from a relieved Alex.
Eric and Charlotte huddled closer, all the customers watching a harassed Armand trying the different keys. "What happened, Armando?" Charlotte asked. "Woke up late and discovered you had turned into a giant cockroach?"
Armand only looked confused, but there was a quiet snort of laughter from Eric behind her, his breath warming the nape of Charlotte's neck. Now Armand was nodding in realisation. "Oh, I get it, very funny." He shot Charlotte an even look. "Sean was sick this morning, too sick to tell me he wasn't coming in."
"Ah, poor guy." Now the customers were all scurrying into the dim cafe, and Alex and Charlotte helped Armand to take the upturned chairs down from the tables. Eric was shaking out his umbrella to dry it, then taking the table opposite Charlotte's favourite spot. Again.
Charlotte decided against sitting somewhere else; if she did, it would call Armand's attention to it and then Eric would spend the entire afternoon smirking at her again. No, Charlotte Randall would meet her adversary head on.
As Eric plugged in his laptop's power adapter, Charlotte very casually strolled over to her favourite table, very casually sat down and very casually pulled out her copy of 'Magnetic Fields' while waiting for her triple white chocolate mocha to arrive.
It took all of five seconds for Eric to groan, "Oh no, not again," and when Charlotte looked up, Eric was shaking his head like a metronome.
"Something wrong?" Charlotte said smoothly, flicking over the page with more relish than necessary.
"There are thousands of good authors out there, Charlotte," Eric said, a little more seriously than the situation called for. "Why would you want to keep reading him?"
Charlotte just stared at Eric with amazement. "And why not? I enjoy him, he's good and he can weave an absolute devil of a tale. Believe me, after years of wading through 'Bleak House' and 'War and Peace' and other books thicker than your head, this is really quite refreshing."
Now Armand was bringing over Charlotte's coffee, setting it on the table. His face lit up when he saw the cover of 'Magnetic Fields'. "Oh man, I love this book. I read it during my senior year and I fell in love with the girl who lent it to me."
"See?" Charlotte said to Eric, gesturing vaguely at a rather confused Armand. "Torrington inspires people. Just because a lot of people read him and his language is very accessible doesn't mean that his writing isn't up there with the best."
Eric only shrugged as his fingers clattered on the keyboard. "A lot of people read the Archie comic books too, does that mean they're on par with 'Moby Dick'?"
"You're impossible," Charlotte said with an exasperated laugh, because she had never met anyone so vehemently opposed to E. R. Torrington's work before. "I wonder whether you'll say the same thing if you're standing face to face with him."
A muscle twitched in Eric's right cheek, but he continued typing steadily on the keyboard, his face impassive. "I can't imagine I'd have very much to say to him."
They fell silent after that, and this time it was Eric who left early, but not before giving Charlotte a nod. Charlotte nodded back, then lost herself in the rest of 'Magnetic Fields'.
When she finally got up to pay, she was informed by Armand that Eric had settled both their bills, then left a generous tip for Armand. "I hope he comes back," a happy Armand said as he wiped down the espresso bar, and Charlotte looked down at her book, wondering why she was wishing for the same.