Do You See Her Face? (A Jess Mariano Fanfiction)

Andy Warhol Arguments

As Ella reemerged from the bedroom, her hair damp and braided, her simple black dress loose and comfortable, the smell of the scrambled eggs Jess was making hit her in the face. Pepper and butter and orange juice mixed in, Chris on the couch flipping through the news channels on the TV sat opposite, Matthew at the counter talking with Jess. With everyone up so early, it made sense Jess would make something. She wondered sometimes if it was nostalgia which drove him, serving them food as Luke did his customers. And, of course, he lived above the business he owned just like his uncle. Ella had pointed out the irony to him more than once. After all, Ella knew just how much Jess looked up to Luke, even if he would never admit it in so many words.

Her stomach did a flip instead of growling as it usually would have, as the ache in her head pounded with the beat of her heart. It made her want to sigh audibly, but she bit it back. The only silver lining of the morning had been not bleeding through her dress and onto the couch, her period having shown up at some point in the night. Cramps were already twisting her insides, nauseating her.

"Did you hear what Bush did last night?" Chris asked, head perking up when he saw her enter the room. He held a coffee in one hand, the liquid pale from copious amounts of milk and sugar.

"Please don't tell me," she said tiredly, hopping onto a stool next to Matthew. "I can't handle his idiocy this morning."

"I'll spare you, then."

"Thank you so much."

Matthew chuckled breathily at them, sipping from his own mug. He was clean-shaven again, having stayed at the apartment for the first time in several days. Still, they did not know the name of the mysterious girlfriend.

"He's never that nice to me," Matthew said, his words a joking sigh.

Ella shrugged. "He owes me for covering his ass when he pissed off that spoken word lady last week."

"Not my fault," Chris chimed in from the couch, defensive.

"Right, so when you told her she wasn't as important as the other woman, that wasn't your fault? Someone else said that?" Ella prodded, eyebrows raised skeptically.

Chris sighed heavily. "I didn't say that. She just heard me wrong."

"Excuses, excuses," Ella chided.

Scoffing, Chris turned his eyes back to the TV and said nothing more. Ella snorted at his petulance, facing ahead where Jess stood over the stove. With a spatula in one hand and the handle of a frying pan in the other, she was reminded again of their days at the diner. Of a lonely morning when Luke had an appointment and Ella had gotten into a fight with her father. It was the first time Jess had made her breakfast. A wistful look crossed her face, and she was lost in thought when Jess put her tea down in a mug in front of her.

"Earth to Eleanor," he said, waving a hand in front of her face. "What, thinking about Emily Dickinson again?"

"Close, but no," she replied, blinking herself out of her daze and taking the mug with both hands. She blew steam from the top and shot him a small smile. "Thanks, cutie."

Rolling his eyes, Jess went back to the stove with a flushed face. He didn't have to look back over to know she had a teasing grin on her lips. Since their ride to California, she'd been poking at him with the nickname. He thought she would let it go, but then he remembered who he was dealing with. And though he wouldn't admit it, as he blushed, it was growing on him just a touch. Besides, he knew it was due retaliation for 'honey,' which he still used on a daily basis.

"You want toast with these eggs?" he asked, hoping his face would cool down sometime soon.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella shook her hand. "No thanks, actually, I'm good without either. Just tea is fine."