She's curled on the armchair in the corner of she and Logan's apartment, legs tucked neatly beneath her. He's out again, of course, no surprise there. And she's sick of it.
She's sick of his lies, his cockiness, his arrogance. She's sick of the way he kisses her in public, sickly sweet and all for show. She's sick of how he arrives home expecting dinner and a nice backrub, despite the fact that she also is working her ass off. She's just sick of Logan.
It's time like these that Jess creeps subconsciously into the back of her mind. She's not entirely sure why, but his low, velvet voice always murmurs, "Come to Philly. We have Hemingway." And it's so damn tempting.
She squeezes her blue eyes shut, and takes a deep breath. No. No, no, no. Philadelphia is miles away. Miles and miles and miles.
'But Rory!' her mind protests, 'The phone is just by the dresser…'
She lets out a gentle scowl at herself, and locks her jaw. No. No, no, no. He's bound to have moved on; it's been years. Years and years and years.
'But Rory!' comes the strong voice. 'You don't know that for definite. He loved you. That's a pretty strong emotion…'
Irritated by her sheer insanity, she hoists herself up and stomps into the kitchen. No. No, no, no. They're finally on good terms. She's not going to ruin that. Wouldn't dream of ruining it.
'But Rory!' her mind persists, 'You call not talking for three years good terms? Get over your pride, Gilmore! You're better than this…'
She wrinkles up her nose slightly. Her mind is beginning to sound like her mother.
'Mothers know best, Rory,' states the voice.
And in order to shut the damn thing up, she grabs the phone, punches in the number and waits. Her gut is somersaulting so much that Olympic gold medalists would be jealous, and her throat's uncomfortably dry. Stupid voice bullying her into this. It chuckles. 'Love fool.'
She ignores this, and just as the dial tone is becoming soothing, someone answers.
"Hello?"
Her stomach returns to its award-winning backflip routine as his low, velvet voice greets her, and the little voice in her head squeals in happiness. 'Told you so, Rory Gilmore. You're nothing but a love fool.'
It's right, she knows it herself. She's nothing but a love fool. Not a love fool for Logan, for Tristan, even for Dean. No. She's a love fool for Jess Mariano, and wouldn't have it any other way.