Hey, back with yet another new story. This is just kind of a teaser chapter, very short. I'm testing the waters here, so if you like it PLEASE review. I know you're all probably incessantly annoyed and tired of this episode, but hey I have no life and I love it, so it was my prerogative to make yet another story about it. I hope you like it. And once again please review and thanks for reading.
Disclaimer: I do not own anything affiliated with Gilmore Girls.
Chapter 1
"Hey Rory, where's Jess?" Luke asked, taking a plate piled high with food from Lorelai.
"He's getting a soda." She replied casually. She took a seat on the left side of the table, next to Luke. She looked at her plate hungrily, anticipating how delicious everything would be.
She heard a noise over her shoulder, and looked out the window to see Jess on the back porch, holding what appeared to be one of Lorelai's Heinekens. She scoffed in her mind, 'Soda my ass…'
She heard Sookie and her mother discussing garlic bread, and quickly realized Lorelai was heading into the kitchen. She decided she needed to do damage control, knowing that if Lorelai found Jess, the evening could turn very ugly.
"Oh, I'll get it Mom. That way I can definitively say I've touched a stove once in my life." She said this with as much ease and nonchalance as she could muster, throwing a smile over her shoulder as she scurried into the kitchen.
As she was about to open the back door, she remembered she should probably get the garlic bread first, since causing a fire was not on her to do list.
She opened the stove door and was about to grab the pan, when she realized she wasn't wearing an oven mitt. "Right, I want to tell them I've touched a stove, not be able to physically show them the evidence."
She grabbed a mitt and quickly pulled the bread out, tossing it onto the burners. She threw the mitt on the counter and opened the back door.
Jess had just successfully removed the bottle cap and taken a sip, when he heard the door open behind him. He turned slightly, twisting his body to see Rory standing in the doorway.
She quietly shut the door behind her. "Now see, when I asked if you wanted a soda, it was more of a yes or no question. There wasn't supposed to be a third option." She pointedly looked at the drink in his hand.
"Well what can I say? I like choices." He replied while taking another swig as he slowly sat down on the top step.
She rolled her eyes and came to sit next to him, at the same time successfully snatching the drink out of his hand.
He stared ahead as he smirked, but used his right hand to casually rub his jaw, his fingers appearing to lazily cover his mouth. "You ever had one?" He murmured through his fingers, while glancing sideways at her.
Her head bobbed in a tiny affirmation. "Once when I was fourteen. I'd just watched 'The Breakfast Club' for about the twentieth time and I was feeling a little 'John Bender-ish'. My mother was gone on business."
His hand dropped from his face as he fully turned his head to look at her, smirking wider. "Well, we all gotta start somewhere."
She rolled her eyes for the second time that night. "Yeah, start and finish." She remembered the nausea she'd felt after consuming it in less than twenty minutes.
Impulsively, she brought the beer to her lips, taking a small sip.
Jess raised his eyebrows at her but said nothing as he hunched over, leaning his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands under his chin. He looked down into his entwined hands, his thumbs brushing against his lips as he smiled softly and shook his head.
As she took another sip, she glanced at him, furrowing her brows in a defensive expression that could only say, 'What? Does this surprise you?'
But as she brought it back down from her mouth, she frowned at her hand. This was weird. And stupid. And different. And just completely…weird.
Sensing that her mood had shifted into something more serious, and seeing the pensive and tense shape of her mouth and forehead, Jess softly pulled the beer from her hand.
He took a much larger sip than she had, expertly letting it dangle precariously between his index and middle finger.
Rory's mind was very much engaged. This situation was so…bizarre. She'd never told anyone other than Lane about her one-time-only drinking experience. Not even Dean. But then, chugging a beer in your mother's kitchen and throwing it back up in the next hour didn't seem like an anecdote he'd want to hear. Or that she would feel like sharing.
Which was the precise reason she felt so confused. She'd never felt like sharing that story, ever. It made her feel dirty and tainted, a blotch of ink on her perfectly clean, crisp record. Good girls don't throw up cheap beer in a blue toilet bowl.
Yet here she was, willingly telling a boy she'd met five minutes ago that she was (contrary to popular belief) not perfect.
Even more confusing was that she still felt…good. She hadn't felt ashamed or lowered her eyes in embarrassment, stuttering excuses about stupidity and naivete.
It just felt so normal. She felt normal. An average kid, a teenager. Not a saint. The entire situation was so easy. As she looked at Jess, she realized why.
He was probably the last person on earth eligible for sainthood. Well, maybe not the last, Hitler or Manson probably held that position.
She stared at him, openly. "You're a bad influence." She stated it simply, without accusation, just a simple fact.
"You know, I tell myself that everyday." He stated, heavy on the sarcasm.
"Nice one Verona." She smiled despite herself.
She took the beer from his hand, taking one last sip before he finished it completely.
He licked his lips. "Maybe your halo could use some rust." He set the bottle beside him on the step, between their bodies.
She was quiet as she picked the bottle up, absentmindedly running her finger around the edge of the lip. "Are you coming back inside?"
"Is that my only choice?" He asked, smirking as he reminded her of his aforementioned love of options.
"Well I guess you could always go back to the diner." She answered with a casual shrug.
"You know…there still is that third choice." He looked at her slyly.
In her bedroom, that third choice hadn't felt like much of an option, but now it somehow seemed just respectable a plan as any.
