This is my first story, so reviews would be fantastic. Please take a minute of your time and tell me what you think. The idea just popped into my head and so I decided to get it written down.

I don't own Gilmore Girls of course. I only own the story and the narrator.

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She's incredibly funny. Smart. Beautiful. Oh yes, beautiful, she is. But I can't really read her. I've known her for over a year now, talked with her and laughed with her. Even though she seems to be happy with her job, being the top journalist she's always wanted to be I can't help thinking that she's sad. It's in her eyes. The are stunningly blue, deep like an ocean and sparkling when she's telling one of her funny stories with her occasional witty remarks.

I've watched these eyes for a long time now, changing depending on which emotion she's going through. So I've noticed that most of the time they are not glimmering with joy or pride about one of her magnificent articles. Her eyes are sad and sometimes they seem to look at something that is long gone and that can't be seen by anyone but her.

--

I occupy the desk beside hers. Today she came to the office right on time, balancing two steaming cups of her beloved coffee in her hands.

She greeted me in her friendly sing-song voice that she's always using when she's mocking me. So she noticed me being in my grumpy morning mood, even though I tried to seem happy. But who am I kidding? Of course she had to look right through this façade, after all she has one herself.

She switched her laptop on and started tiping furiously right away. So she's spent another night thinking about ideas for her articles. I focused on my work as well and worked until she came up behind me and asked if I was ready for lunch. Of course I was, lunch with her was what made my day even though I didn't get to spend lunch break alone with her. We were always surrounded by a bunch of colleagues, she was very popular after all.

She excused herself and left the table first, I stayed some more minutes. I didn't want the others to think that I was a lovesick puppy. As if they didn't know that already.

I went back to our desks to find her completely focused on her screen. She was reading an email. I didn't pay much attention to her seeing that I really needed to finish my article on time. After some time I realised that the familiar sound of her typing was missing. I glanced up to see her looking out of the window, staring at all the things only she and I could not see.

She slowly came out of her daze and grabbed her phone. She seemed unsure of herself and stared at the phone for a while. However she obviously decided to make the call and started nervously scribbling on a piece of paper.

"It's me. I got your message."

Who was she talking to? She didn't have a boyfriend, at least not that I knew of.

"Alright. See you there in 10 minutes… So do I… Bye."

She ended the call and quickly put her things in her purse. She told me not to wait for her, she would take the rest of the day off. She smiled at me happily, gave me little wave and hurried out of the newsroom.

I couldn't believe myself when I got up quickly to follow her. I had to know who the misterious caller was, that put her in such a good mood.

When I got out of the building I spottted her crossing the street and walking into one of her favourite cafés. I followed her very slowly, very unsure of myself. I stood outside the café for a couple of minutes debating whether to get in there or not.

Of course my jealousy and curiosity won.

I sat down, keeping distance to her but still sat so close that I would be whithin earshot.

She sat with her back to me and slowly stirred her coffee.

Then the door opened and a man around my age stepped in. He was quite handsome and had blonde hair. He looked around the café until he spotted who he was looking for.

My heart nearly stopped when I saw her get up and throwing herself into his already waiting arms. I watched horrified him twirling her around a bit and caught a quick glimpse of her beaming happy face that mirrored his expression perfectly.

I saw them exchange some quick words, he smirked at one of her remarks. I couldn't make out what they were saying, but I think it wouldn't have been possible for me even if I sat directly beside them. Everything was in a blur. I couldn't think properly.

At least I could make myself walk out of the café without staring at them too obviously.

When I walked out, her angelic laughter ringed in my ears.

So I wouldn't ask her for a date any time soon.

Not after having seen her happier than I ever had. With another man.

….

A year later I saw a photo of them in a newspaper. She looked more beatiful than ever and beamed at me while he had an arm draped around her waist with the same broad smile on his face.

The headline said: "Logan Huntzberger finally getting married to Rory Gilmore"

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