Title: Lovers and Liars (Chapter titles are lyrics from "Lovers and Liars" by Matchbook Romance)
Dislcaimer: I own zip zero nadda, nothing
Pairing: R/J
Let's start out by starting over
She shows up to the classroom. At least 20 minutes early, she wants to find a good spot. So what if Paris calls her psychotic and annoying. It's basically the pot calling the kettle black. Her clothing is downgraded. Yale is not a catwalk. But her hair is pulled back and her cheeks have a rosy hue to them. She's not expecting to meet anyone, and she prefers not knowing any of the others. This way she can put her full concentration into the lectures.
At first she doesn't see him, he's changed somewhat. His skin is tanner, probably from summer in Mexico, kicking back, sucking down tequilas left and right. But then again who really knows? It's the hair that gives him away. He's late, of course. He wouldn't have it any other way. She spots the unruly mess on top of his head and he stops in his tracks when he smells that perfume. He remembers that perfume.
They see each other from across the room. He decides today is the day to be polite. So he makes his way over to her and sits down next to her. She doesn't say anything to him. She merely smiles, acknowledging his presence. He finds it awkward sitting next to her. They haven't talked, haven't even seen each other for years. Since he left…his stomach drops as he thinks of the last moment he saw her. It takes every fiber of his being to not jump right out of his chair and high tail it to his dorm room. But he does stay and he tries to listen to the lecture, but he finds it damn near impossible to concentrate with her next to him. Damn it he thinks. She hasn't changed.
She tries typing down notes into her laptop but the words don't come out right, instead she finds herself writing something along the lines of a diary entry. It sickens her that she can feel this awkward around someone she hasn't seen for what? At least a year. She keeps telling herself, she's a professional, a sophomore at Yale, she can handle this. But soon enough she realizes she can't and it takes every piece of self-control she has not to yell "Get the hell away from me". But yet there's something that draws her closer to him, making her not want him to leave. Wow, she thinks. He hasn't changed.
When the class ends, they both try to scurry away politely, but it's not use. And while both hate confrontation, they both know it's inevitable.
"Hey," she starts.
He nods at her. She expects this though, it's his usual response. Words would have shocked her.
"Jess, what are you doing here?" she asks him. The bite in her tone is evident even to her and she tries to downplay it. "I mean," she starts. "I didn't see you here last year so I wondered if you transferred or I just didn't see you."
"I transferred here."
Words, she thinks, are still not his strong suit.
Silence draws on and suddenly she can't find anything to say.
"You know," she says, "if you need some help getting acquainted with things around here I could help. All I'm saying is don't be afraid to ask."
"I won't."
She really at this point would like to reach across and slap him right now. But she doesn't because really what would be the point? He would still be the same old Jess.
"Ok. Well nice talking to you," she says somewhat sarcastically and she starts to walk away.
"Hey, Rory," he says to her.
Finally, words, she thinks, as she turns back around towards him.
"You, uh, want to grab a cup of coffee?"
She smiles full and real, for the first time since seeing him and says:
"I would love a cup of coffee."
x…x
They don't talk about California or even Stars Hollow. They know it's an eventual subject, but they both hope it's something that will stay hidden for a rainy day, or hopefully forever. Instead they talk about books and movies and even music. Even though they have varying opinions on the latter. He has the whole heavy metal collection and she finds her heart in the indie rock. But still they can carry on a civil conversation. Some of it is forced, other times they both find themselves talking to freely they expect Luke to come up and pour the next cup of coffee. But then those long silences occur and they suddenly snap back to reality.
"So who would have thought Jess Mariano would be in Yale right now, legally, nonetheless," she says.
He laughs and the uneasiness and tension they both felt before are slowly fading away.
"Not I," he says.
She shakes her head and sips her coffee.
"Why'd you do it? I mean you never really seemed like a college guy to me."
"Oh, well why would you say a thing like that?"
"Because it's true."
"Ya well things change, people change. Nothing's forever."
"Are you sure about that?"
"O come on Rory, don't get all philosophical on me."
"You're right; we'll save that for the next coffee date."
The word date hangs in the air for a minute and they both look away for each other as the tension begins to build once again.
"So…uh, how's your mom doing?"
Rory looks at him, completely stunned.
"What," she starts, "the hell happened to you?"
He smirks at her; he sees her inner drama queen hasn't faded.
"People change, Ror. And deep down I like your mom, I was just always afraid she would come at me with a hello kitty knife at night, that's all."
Rory laughs at him, and downs the rest of her coffee, simultaneously checking her watch.
"Oh gosh, I have an afternoon class," she tells him.
He finishes off his coffee and throws a few dollar bills onto the table, as she begins to pull out her wallet.
"It's on me," he tells her.
She nods at him, thanking him for his generosity and she wonders if there's something behind it. They walk outside the on-campus café and down the pathway to her next class. The air is crisp and the colors of autumn surround them. She notices he's grown or perhaps she's gotten smaller.
"So, you wanna get some takeout tonight?" he asks her.
She can't believe the change of events. At first she loathes the sight of him and now he's asking her to dinner. She laughs at the irony of it all.
"You paying?" she asks him, jokingly.
"Of course," he says smirking.
"Count me in."