A/N: In this story, Rory and Logan didn't break up after the fight in the pub. This is basically an introduction chapter; the next one will have more dialogue, I promise. ;) Thanks for reading!
It took me a while to gather the courage to open the cover, even longer to turn the pages. I knew this wouldn't be like any other book, no matter how good or bad the writing was. I'm fully aware of the ability Jess Mariano's words have to turn my day, week, year, life, even, upside down. I noticed my hands trembling and rolled my eyes. Good grief, Rory, you haven't even read the first word. In my hesitation, I noticed the dedication. "To the one person who knew I could do it all along - you know who you are. - Dodger." My heart skittered and I bit my lip on the sharp intake of breath the words provoked. There's no doubt about it. He dedicated it to me. Jess dedicated a book to me. That was it - I couldn't read anymore right now. I placed the book at the bottom of my dresser. I didn't particularly want Logan to find it. It would bring up too many questions, and the way he had ridiculed Jess at the pub only strengthened my desire to keep it out of sight. I pursed my lips. Part of me longed to pick the book back up, sit down for a few hours, and be done with it. The other part fully acknowledged the fact that there was definitely such a thing as too much Jess Mariano. After thinking for a ridiculous amount of time, I decided to read the book in small portions. Everyday, I would read for fifteen minutes. No more.
Day by day, I worked my way through the book. I loved it, really. It was unique, witty, and drew me in. Despite the fact that I was used to tearing through books like there was no tomorrow, I began to enjoy reading slowly. Most days, at least. When Jess's words were in front of me, it was impossible not to drag up memories I thought I had left far behind. Some days brought peaceful, enjoyable memories. Others made my stomach feel hollow to the point where I had to stop reading. Days like that, the book was quickly buried under piles of clothes while I tried to push all thoughts of him out of my head. I spent more time with Logan those days, hugging him a little longer, kissing him a little more. But it didn't feel right anymore. Until this point, I hadn't realized that one could get simple words and phrases stuck in their head. But Jess's words from his book rung in my ears. Sentences about loss and life in general. The more I read, the more I thought about him, and the more I attached myself to Logan. I tried to cover it up, but I felt so off-kilter. You're being ridiculous, I told myself. That's just what Jess does to people. Not being able to get him out of your head doesn't mean a thing. Most of all, the more I thought of him, the more I wished I could go back and change everything. I spent so much time debating with myself - You must have really hurt him…it's all in the past, it shouldn't matter now…he understood me…he hurt me…he came back. He cleaned up his act, and came back for me…I never could trust him. How much could he have changed in a year?…he still loved me. I never gave him another chance…he's better off without me…he's the reason I'm back at Yale.
I found myself watching Logan. I watched him terrorize Paris, make elaborate weekend plans, and do stupid stunts with Colin and Finn. It made me look around at my life - Logan had changed me, more than I'd like to admit. If I was really honest with myself, I never thought I'd steal a boat, spend the night in jail, or be participating in crazy Life and Death Brigade activities. And while Logan had made me more adventurous, I'd also had the biggest fight of my life with my mom, dropped out of Yale, and become complacent. The more I watched, the more Jess's words rung in my head. "This isn't you! You, going out with this jerk with a Porsche. We made fun of guys like this!" The more I watched,the more discontent I became. So I read. If I squinted hard enough, I could almost see faded ink etched into the margins. I could see glimpses of the moody seventeen year old I had once known and loved, and the traces of a man I hardly knew. And suddenly I realized why I loved his book - it didn't remind me of anything. It was just Jess. Jess and the summer nights we shared on the bridge. It was his eyes and the feeling of his arms around me that seeped through the pages. His hints of a smile and his ever-present one-liners. Just Jess. I smiled to myself. If I ever got the chance to tell him what I thought of his book, I knew exactly what I would say.
