Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Summary: Rory muses over her first few meetings with Logan. Post – Written in the Stars
Spoilers: Everything thus far.
Pairing: Rory/Logan, but there is a mention of R/D.
Rating: PG
Author's Note: I have a habit of starting stories I never finish. I attribute that to my tendencies to procrastinate. I'm supposed to be studying for exams. But I've decided to do this instead. So don't expect updates frequently.

Musings
Part One: Rory

"Master and Commander."
"The movie?"
"No, that's what I want you to call me from now on."

She watched him retreat up the stairs, letting out a heavy sigh. When had talking to a stranger nay, a good looking guy her age, become so tiresome, yet so intriguing?

Ugh. Rory mentally slapped herself for considering Logan as good looking. He was anything but good looking. He was cocky and self-assured and was probably living off Daddy's money. She then remembered what Marty had said to Logan the day before: I've bartended for you – for your parties. No, Logan wasn't probably living off Daddy's money – he was definitely living off Daddy's money. He'd probably still continue living off Daddy's money after inheriting an overly zealous amount of money when he turned 21.

Rory shrugged off her own hypocrisy. Although she was just a small-town girl, her family background would somehow catch up to her in the confines of Yale. Inevitably, there would be no escape, after all, she did hail from an old family who traditionally attended Yale. And despite being estranged from her grandparents most her life, she was sure that her grandparents would ensure that when she turned 21, she would be set to become another one of those trust-fund babies. She was, after all, their pride and joy after her mother bailed out on high society. Her own consolation, if it was indeed a consolation, was that her inheritance would probably not be as grand as Logan.

Ugh. She let out a sign of frustration. Logan. Why did things suddenly revolve around Logan? She barely knew the guy, other than the fact that he hired Marty to bar-tend his parties and was flanked by two cronies. And that he had some ditzy blonde girlfriend who was probably yet another one of those trust-fund babies living off Daddy's money who probably only ever ate salads and drank mineral water. She probably even had her father beg and bribe the admission board so she could attend Yale and follow Logan around like a lost puppy. She probably wasn't the only one either. She was adamant that Logan had a whole fan club of lost girls, following him like lost puppies. It was sickening just to think about it. But it wasn't like she cared, really.

Like she didn't care when he insinuated that she and the late Asher Fleming had a relationship. As if she would have a relationship with a man old enough to be her grandfather. She wasn't that kind of girl. She was the 'study hard, only date the loyal and faithful boys' kind of girl – the kind of girls that dated guys like Dean. Dean. It was the first time during the day he even crossed her mind. The thought of Dean brought a smile of her face. He was a good guy – he would never cheat on her. Granted, he was still married to Lindsay, but their marriage was in trouble and he loved her. He was gentle and loving the first time they had sex. He cared about her and he would never hurt her. Not like Logan. He would cheat. He would dump her the day after they had sex. He would….

Ugh. Rory attempted to block of the image of her and Logan having sex. Like she would even consider letting that snake see her naked. Or kiss her with the luscious lips of his, manoeuvring his hands expertly up and down her body. No! Not in this lifetime. Why was she even thinking about Logan in a sexual way when she couldn't even stand the sight of him? She had ever only seen him twice, ever only conversed with him once. Their confrontation earlier was barely a conversation. She tried to condone his snobbery but he managed to some spurt out a string to words to make his snobbery acceptable. She rolled her eyes as she remembered what he said – the fact that this is a free country means I can speak to anyone in any manner which I choose. However, the rules of a civilized society may frown upon a certain obvious show of snobbery – but then found herself smiling as she recalled what he said. It was rather intelligent, for someone with brains like him. She was positive that Logan didn't achieve the marks to get into Yale, but rather, his father pulling a few a few strings like bequeathing a million dollars or so to some foundation so that his precious son could attend an institution way beyond his intellectual capabilities. Yes, that was the reason why he was at Yale.

She hated the way he talked to her. He talked with his hands in his pockets, or else they were flying around the place. She hated how he kept cocking his head side to side, looking down on her like she was so inferior to him. She just didn't like him.

Yes, that was it. She didn't like him yet he filled her mind like some parasite. He was intriguing, she gave him that much, after all, how often was it that she met some rich kid living off Daddy's money who could string two coherent albeit conceited sentences together? But he was incorrigible, arrogant, self-centred and annoying and a huge jerk. Yup. She definitely didn't like him.

"Finn. Remember, Guinness and redheads don't mix."

Hearing the all familiar cocky voice from above, she decided she had to make a hasty exit to avoid being confronted by the one who had been infiltrating her thoughts for the last ten or so minutes. Attempting to let go of all thoughts about Logan, she decided to head back to her room, despite still holding most of Paris' flyers.

Rory entered the suite she shared with Paris, only to be greeted by the putrid smell of tobacco smoke. "I just wanted to smell like him again." Paris offered as her excuse on cue as she entered the room.

Rory didn't know how to respond so she walked over to the couch Paris was sitting on. She looked at her blonde room mate with pity, dressed in black, from head to toe, all prim and proper. Oh boy. This is going to be an interesting year. Rory thought, as she offered solace to her once sworn nemesis. Who would of thought that one day I'd be comforting Paris?