A/N: So, this is pretty much a companion piece, I guess, to Contradiction. I was going to make it a second chapter...but, I don't know. This feels a bit different, plus I just wanted to make it a separate oneshot. So shoot me. But before you do, could you review?

Words

He knew she was staring at her, him, them. He could feel the needles of her bright blue eyes piercing the hands that roamed along the short length of Shane's back. And he didn't care. Really, he did not give two shits about Rory's feelings right now, since all she had done since the week she left for Washington was ignore him, and what had happened between them.

Thus, he didn't care.

Let her sit there.

Staring.

At him. And Shane. About to share bodily fluids right there on that tree trunk.

Okay, so he cared a little. But he wasn't about to let on to a girl who'd been a complete bitch to him by not even saying 'okay, I admit it happened, and I did like you, but I can't do this'. Though, he wouldn't have cared for that response. Jess wanted her honesty, and on some level he really thought he deserved it. He'd treated her the nicest he'd ever treated anyone, and although that still maybe wasn't so nice, he was pretty sure she was aware. Thus, he deserved a little bit better.

The taste of cotton candy flooded his saliva as Shane's tongue tangled in his own. He slipped his hand into her back pocket, wanting to look as comfortable and complacent as possible – just like she did with Franken-dean.

He opened his eyes for the briefest of seconds, just in time to catch Rory, arms crossed, looking like she was in a heated discussion with her mother. He wondered momentarily if it was about him, and put the thought out of his mind because he was past the point where he cared whether or not she talked about him, to him, or even vaguely referenced him in an interpretive dance. Because she wouldn't, not when she had Dean to focus all her time and energy on.

He began to feel the unfamiliar sensation of green slime creeping into his mind, and thrust himself up against Shane, trying to get some semblance of the actual Jess Mariano back into himself.

She'd fucked him up last summer.

And part of him really hated her for it. Jess's essence was nonchalance, sarcasm, casualness. And Rory had just taken that from him. His image was really all he had to hold on to, and she'd stripped him of it.

With her gorgeous blue eyes, and those pink lips that looked as soft and supple as a ripe peach. With her long fingers that he longed to feel on him, gripping him tighter and tighter as he made her crazy with desire and want, as he took her on a trip out of her comfort zone and into the allure of a world she'd never known.

"Get off," he mumbled grumpily, shoving the blond to the side when he noticed that Rory and Lorelai had gone off to Sookie and Jackson's for the rest of the afternoon. She looked a bit taken aback, but he only ignored her, stomping off and pulling a worn paperback from the back pocket of his jeans.

Shane didn't come after him, because she never did. Part of him believed she was smarter than she let on and was fully aware of the fact that he was using her, and maybe even what he was using her for.

But then he remembered that the other day, she'd asked him what the expiration date was on an empty box of Wheaties with a picture of Jackie Robinson on it. Things like that reassured him.

When Jess reached his destination, he slammed the door behind him, ignoring Luke's gruff plea for help in the diner and storming up the stairs. He flopped back onto his bed, disregarding the sound of a pile of books that had been at the end of it falling to the hardwood floor.

He threw the book he'd had down to join them after a few moments, though, because as much as he'd previously enjoyed Catcher in the Rye, it wasn't doing a lot for him today. Jess let out a frustrated sigh, pushing his fingers painfully into his face and blinking a few times before staring at the ceiling.

He hated that he still wanted her so badly.

It'd been that way for a long time – but had heightened dramatically in New York, and got unbelievably worse after she'd kissed him. Jess felt something deep within him pulling on him, making him think about her hands, her lips, the lean, warm length of her body pressed against him.

It was only three goddamn seconds of his life and he had been thinking about it all summer, unable to get her out of his mind. He fell asleep hoping to escape her, but fell asleep with the image of her in his mind, only to dream about her, about them.

And they weren't even good dreams. They were menial, everyday things. No kissing, no sex. He couldn't even get some pleasure from them – just woke up frustrated and feeling the need for something.

.

Ever since she'd touch her lips to his own, that same mantra always played in his mind. He hadn't realized until her warm, timid mouth was on his own just how much he'd wanted it to happen. How everything had been building until that point, and ever since then, everything was bubbling around that point.

Jess slammed balled fists down on his mattress, letting out a strangled groan and shutting his eyes tight against the endless stream of thoughts in his mind.

Shoving himself up off the bed, he grabbed his pack of cigarettes and shoved out the front door of the apartment. He shuffled down the stairs to the diner, ready to storm out, when Luke stopped him at the bottom of the stairs, running into him.

"Move," He ground out, shoving his uncle hard.

"Geez, you've really been studying that brooding manual hard, haven't you!" Luke shouted after him. The back of the door hit the window with a loud bang when he left the diner, and he thudded across the street.

Fuck.

Chiffon brushed against his bare arm and he had flashes of the last time that had happened, under a tree by the Independence Inn.

"What the hell!"

She was combative, and shot him an angry glare when they bounced back off of one another. His shoulders hunched and as chocolate met ice blue, he felt something rise up inside of him. It wasn't anger, which surprised him more than anything ever had.

It was defeat. All he wanted was to reach out and touch her, do something. He wanted to press against her with his lips, with his chest, to make her feel the heat of danger and the fire of something that was real. Hell, he wanted to feel something real himself – because he hadn't had that before she had kissed him.

"Sorry," he said quietly, staring at her with his mouth open slightly.

Rory's eyes lit up with the opening he gave her.

"Sorry! For what? I mean, all you did was shove your tongue down her throat, and grope her porn-star ass!" Her face crinkled in disgust and she folded her arms in front of her defensively.

"Rory..."

"I mean, why should you of all people be sorry? You just stood there and took it when I kissed you. I'm sure it was just the worst thing ever for you, since you prefer the smell of bleach and bubblegum! I bet you just love shoving it in my face that -"

"Rory." He said her name firmly. The space between them had gotten smaller somehow, and he hadn't realized it was even happening until he felt the heat of her angry huffs blow onto his nose.

"What?" She shot back, her voice sharp and cold.

"Can we...can we go somewhere? To...I don't know, can we just go somewhere?"

"No! How dare you ask me to go somewhere with you?" She did not move to step back from him and he felt the hotness of each syllable, the vibration of each word, as she yelled in his face.

"Because, Rory. We kissed. Now, if you'd like, we can shout it for the whole town to hear, but I doubt Dean would be particularly pleased. What do you think?" The anger came through in the enunciation of his words, but his tone stayed completely level.

She frowned at him, recoiling slightly.

"Fine," she stated simply. He reached out, for her hand, or maybe her arm, anything just so he could touch her soft skin again, but she jerked back from him. She merely nodded coolly for him to lead the way.

He began to walk, unsure of where the hell he was going. Eventually, he recognized the area they were in – that same clearing that he had unknowingly gone to three months ago. It was a freaking cliché that they'd ended up there. He almost wanted to walk them over to the tree he'd just been at with Shane, just to cancel out the fact that he'd subconsciously led them to this spot.

But a part of him wanted to stay planted there – because Rory made him feel something he hadn't before, as stupid and ridiculous as that sounded. She made him feel like maybe clichés were actually okay, in some screwed up way.

That part of him let them stop there, under the tree. Rory looked around at where they had stopped and he watched her face soften almost imperceptibly. Her shoulders relaxed when she dropped her arms from where they had been folded across her chest, and she let out a long sigh.

"So," he said shortly, looking at the ground.

"So?" She repeated the word back to him expectantly.

"Well...what did you want to talk about?"

"You're the one who dragged us all the way out here, Jess," Rory responded, shaking her head at him.

"I..." He'd gotten nearer to her again, somehow. How the fuck did that keep happening? It was like there was this damn invisible string that connected them, and when they were alone, it got smaller and smaller and smaller – as if there were magnets at each end, just yanking them towards one another against each of their conscious wills.

"What -" Rory breathed out softly when his face was even nearer to her own. He could feel the soft air coming from behind her lips fill his own mouth, even from two inches away. An electric current washed over him when he felt her fingers brush against his. He could tell it had been accidental when he noticed her eyes leave his and widen when she looked down at what her hand had done of its own accord.

He took advantage of her shock and linked his index and middle fingers loosely with hers. The brush of bare skin gave him flashes – the feel of her soft and gently lips, the rub of his course hand against the rounded features of her face. Jess heard her let out a small noise as she looked up at him again, something between a gasp and a surprised sigh – it sounded as though the breath was caught inside of her throat.

Her throat worked as she swallowed a few times, blinking and looking to the side of his head.

And then it was over as soon as it had begun. She was two feet away from him now, no longer sharing his breath. His fingers were cold having suffered the loss of the touch of her own.

"Why – um, what'd you want to talk about, Jess?" Her voice was soft now, devoid of any lingering anger.

"Nevermind." His voice was cold now, hard compared to the shy, warm tone of her own words. "Why don't you just go back to your boyfriend, huh? It's been almost fifteen minutes, I'm sure the search party will be along any time now."

To his utter astonishment, she had the audacity to look shocked at his words.

"Wh – how -" Rory squirmed, and then regained her composure, straightening up, and letting her arms resume their previous position crossed against her midsection.

"What gives you the right to talk about Dean like that, Jess? He hasn't done anything!"

"No, but you have," Jess raised his voice slightly, his eyes meetings hers. She stood there for a moment, staring back at him. So many words passed between them, all in a blur - I want you, need you, long to feel you near me, talk to me, touch me, I want you – all of them, an unspoken rhythm that played in the air that spanned out between them, the space that had been created.

"I don't...I don't know what to say." She sighed, some of the anger dissipating from her eyes once again.

"Then don't, Rory. Just forget it! It's just words, all of this," Jess gestured between them, "it's just wasted breath. Just put it out of your mind!"

His voice rang in the sunny patch of grass, bouncing off of the tree that had seen all of them, that had heard all of them. He thrust his flung-out hand back against his side, standing straighter and looking at her for a moment. Her eyes sparkled with wetness as she gazed back at them. I understand, they told him.

And he knew it was the truth – that she did understand now. But that didn't change anything for him – he knew he would still get the flashes in his mind, that her face would continue to be the one burned into his eyelids.

Jess knew that she was aware of the same things as he, yet they were still in this place – dancing, dodging, hopping around what was right there, right in front of them.

"Bye, Jess," her voice was barely there, a ghost of what it had once been. He felt an invisible wind brush against him when she walked past him, even though her stride was a good three feet away from him.

He didn't say anything, just watched her walk away, feeling that same fiery surge fly through him, at rampant, accelerated speeds.

They were only words.

A/N: Hmm. That ended up in a different place I thought it would. It felt a little rambly to me, too, and repetitive. But those are just my thoughts.

Tell me yours by leaving a review, would you? (: