A/N: This is my first fanfic…PLEASE leave me some feedback. Positive or Negative. All is appreciated! (For those of you who need to know, I am for Rogan all the way!)
"I…have arrived," I said, at the end of a sigh. After a cross-country flight and a smelly cab ride, the cool, stone floors and the fresh ocean breeze of my temporary home seemed utterly soothing. No more crammed bus rides, no more sack lunches, and no more brick-like hotel beds, at least, not for the summer. I had never truly appreciated my, now former, co-worker, and friend until this moment. "Okay, Lucifer, where do I sign?"
"This is not a trick Jace, no souls required to enter." You have got to appreciate a friend who understands your ramblings without a decoder. Rory and I were born to be friends. I don't think I would have survived months on a Greyhound if I had to explain my use of sarcasm throughout every conversation. "Did you ever think we would make it here? I thought that flight was at least two hours longer than it was supposed to be. Coffee?"
"You know you don't have to ask me twice. Where should I drop my bags?"
Rory gazed around the room looking for the appropriate hallway. "Well, since we're 'grown-up,'" she used air quotes, "free, I figured I would take the master suite on this level, and you could pick whichever suite you want on the upper level."
The one thing I knew for sure of Richard and Emily Gilmore was that they would never have a problem with lack of space, or low-quality anything. I had only met them once when our tour stopped outside of Hartford, Connecticut. They came to watch their granddaughter in action and showed no sign of disappointment in what they witnessed. I could hardly blame them. Rory seemed timid and shy, and, mostly, she was. But put her in a conference room full of politicians and there was no stopping her. I definitely had to admire, and envy, her obvious natural talent for getting a story out of anything. When she wrote, it was as if she was ignited by some kind of wildfire. She was constantly pushing and criticizing herself. In Hartford particularly.
The Gilmore's had put us up in their "house", I use that term loosely, (it was something more like a mansion/museum to me) for the duration of our stay in Connecticut. After a long day of reporting we were treated to the best dinner I'd ever had, dessert back at the house where Lorelai, Rory's mother-slash-best-friend and her fiancé, Luke, met up with us, and a relaxing evening of our choosing afterward. I was prepared to beg Rory, sitting at the desk mumbling to herself and frantically typing and retyping, for a night on the town, and maybe a little man-scouting until I heard her babbling, "Well Mitchum, who doesn't 'have what it takes' now?" And she continued until daylight broke through the windows.
The elegant home I was standing in now was unmistakably a home designed for Emily Gilmore- exquisite Victorian-style fabrics, dark woods, and huge collections of antiques…all classic Emily. I took my leave, making my way up the grand staircase of the sea-side home, making sure to look for the brilliant details used throughout the architecture and décor, and Rory headed to the kitchen to fiddle with the coffee pot.
"Okay, seriously, is age twenty-four too old for your Grandparents to adopt me?"
"We've been over this before! Strings, Pinocchio, strings!" Rory was referring to the conversation we'd had with her mother after the dinner with the grandparents. The Gilmore's all but kidnapped Rory and I right from the conference and took us to a fancy dinner knowing full well that Lorelai had planned a quiet, Richard and Emily free, evening at the diner her fiancé owned.
I had made my way to the private bathroom at this point, and it was indescribable. "Okay, I am starting to forget why that is a bad thing…" I chose the last room on my right, simply because it was the most plainly decorated, and that suited me. It was time to unpack, shower, and get gussied up for a night at the Vineyard. There was a gathering at one of the local wineries, and there was no way I was going to let us miss that. Every once in a while the guard that Rory had up would come down, and a night of wine tasting was sure to help her out.
Although she insisted that she wasn't heartbroken anymore, she never talked about her most recent breakup. I didn't even know his name, and we had spent months sharing the same cheap hotel rooms together! The most she ever told me about it was that she'd almost gotten married to her college sweetheart, but chose to work instead. It was a very brief conversation one night before the tour moved on to another state. A group of us stopped in a local bar somewhere in the bleakness of Nebraska, to have a few drinks. Liza, another girl writing on the campaign, was talking about the next weekend when she was to be Matron of Honor at her sister's wedding and Rory drunkenly replied with, "I almost got married once. He proposed to me. My boyfriend did, yep. In front of everyone I know, and a hundred more that I didn't. The day before my graduation…what was he thinking?" She rested her head on her folded arms and shook it from side to side.
I had never heard a breath of Rory's dating life until then. We were two months on the road at that point. It made me curious about this girl that I thought I had known pretty well and I tried to get more out of her, "Your boyfriend? Who Rory? I didn't know you had been seeing someone before you left for work. What happened?"
I don't think she was really meaning to speak out loud because her next response was vaguer than the first. She acted like no one else was around. "Books and flowers and coffee carts…I stole a boat with you, but you can't give me some time to digest this? You live in London, across the Atlantic, but you can't live in San Francisco for a short time without me? 'It's all or nothing Rory,'" she said in a mocking tone. "Well, how's that nothing working out for you? Cause it's just great for me." Even through her sarcasm tears managed to break through and I didn't press the issue any further. I walked Rory back to our hotel, her still silently sobbing. He was in her dreams that night. I know because she 'asked' him if he missed her at all and she said, "Good, I miss you too," and some other short phrases about an avocado tree, cheese rolling, and Birkin bags. (I will have to find a way to learn what the Birkin part was all about…) We never spoke of that night. Rory had not been on a date since before I met her on our first day of work, and I was determined to change that this summer before we went our separate ways.
There was a knock at my bedroom door. "Room service," Rory exclaimed. "I come with your daily dose of caffeine Miss."
"Well it sure took you long enough. Make it faster next time and you might get a tip!" I jested, and opened the door to receive my beverage. "You're a life saver ya know. There is no other person on this planet that I can trust to make a perfect cup of coffee, except maybe your mother, but I've only heard rumors." Rory stepped into the room and took a seat on the chest on the end of the bed. "So, what are you wearing tonight? I don't even know how fancy this shindig is. I am guessing that, because of where we are, it is a black tie affair. If we go with that, the worst case scenario is that we are over dressed, but looking glamorous, and I can totally live with that." I live for fashion and I will use any excuse to break out a great dress and some slightly scandalous heels.
"I was really hoping to catch up on my reading tonight since this is the first night that we haven't had articles to send in. I have been painfully ignoring my collection, and my grandma just added books to the library downstairs."
"Rory, there will be plenty of time to catch up. I am sure it is bound to rain at some point on this vacation, and you can read then. Pushkin can wait," Rory flinched at my words, and I knew she was now working at repressing a memory. She made that same face whenever a painful memory had crossed her mind. It used to concern me, but now I just pressed on, "This night isn't just about me wanting to cut loose, we both need this! I haven't gone out, or seen a real man in months! And I know the same is true for you. This will be a peaceful night, and we may just come back in time for you to sniff a few books downstairs." I leapt across the room in three strides to my waiting luggage searching for my garment bag. "Aha!"
"It's never a good sign for me when you exclaim things like you're Sherlock Holmes." Rory definitely looked uneasy.
"Great…now I am day dreaming about Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law." I looked into the eyes that I was forever jealous of, clearly forgiven, and we both started laughing. I had an endless list of celebrity crushes that Rory and I could find some amusement in. "I have the perfect outfits for us! Go freshen up, and be ready to leave by six. That gives us two hours to primp."
Rory picked up the hanger I had thrown in her lap and looked at the cloth draped over it questionably. "You have seriously lost your mind. I don't need to wear this fancy, yet slightly promiscuous, cocktail dress to a wine tasting." She continued to eyeball the knee-length black dress in her hands, probably wondering what cardigan she could throw over it to hide the low back and halter neckline. Rory always had the greatest taste in clothing, but she never wanted to show off skin. That was going to have to change tonight if I was going to loosen her up. Or find someone else to do it for me, I thought with a muffled giggle.
"Rory, just because we aren't drinking mixed cocktails at some Hollywood party doesn't mean we can't look the part. Besides, you know I love getting dressed up. And if I never wear another pantsuit in my life, I can die truly happy! I want us to be noticed and envied tonight. No arguments. You are going to look amazing!"
She let out a long sigh, and stood up to leave, dress still in hand. "I am going to have to tell my mother that you are a bad influence on me. You're so pushy!" I was victorious. "Okay, but if I do this, you are coming to sniff five books with me tomorrow…" she said over her shoulder as she sulked off to get ready downstairs.