A/N: Well, aren't I a regular Speedy Gonzales! Thanks you so much for the lovely reviews for the first chapter. Keep them coming, I'll keep the story coming, we'll all be happy.
Disclaimer: I don't own a thing, I'm borrowing other people's toys.
Philadelphia welcomed her with the cloudburst of the decade which meant that by the time she found the address that Luke gave her, she was completely soaked and her dripping hair was all over her face, which only added to the dramatic effect created by her smudged mascara. In that state, with her luggage covered in plastic bags for protection, she rang the doorbell to Truncheon Books. The business was closed but after a moment the door opened, and a light-brown haired young man in plaid opened the door for her. She almost laughed hysterically at the sight, thinking how accurate she was in her expectations when he spoke up. It wasn't the voice she heard on the phone.
"Rory, right?"
She nodded mutely in response.
"Um, well... come on in, I guess," the guy let her through the door and helped her to get her suitcase over the threshold. "I'm Matthew," he said and extended his hand to her as soon as he closed the door.
"Nice to meet you," she answered, slightly out of breath and shook his hand, getting his sleeve wet in the process.
"You know, you kind of remind me of Audrey Hepburn in Breakfast at Tiffany's. Bar Cat."
"I don't feel particularly Audrey right now but thank you. And I can't believe I'm talking to a guy who just referenced Breakfast at Tiffany's," she said with a smile.
"Oh. To be honest, I watched it for a girl," he admitted.
"How did that work out for you?"
"Not too well, but I'm still working on it. Anyway, you need to change so let's go upstairs," he said, took her suitcase, ignoring her already weak protests and led her up a ridiculous number of stairs, passing the Truncheon office on the way.
They entered a cosy living room with a wall covered in bookshelves, something Rory noticed immediately, a TV and a large couch.
"Kitchen," Matthew pointed, "bathroom, Chris's room, my room, your room and Jess's room," he showed her from left to right. "Chris is out, and this," he opened the far right door unceremoniously, "is Jess," he presented, as if he was showing her a museum piece. "He's on a writing binge so he's not responding, we only leave him a giant mug of tea from time to time and some pizza." Rory curiously peeked through the door Matt was holding open.
She saw a dark-haired young man, sitting cross-legged in the middle of a bed, typing furiously on his laptop, surrounded by, what looked like a sea of books, records and clothing, all mixed together in a very untidy pile spreading across the small room.
His appearance didn't meet her expectations at all, to say the least. 'Beautiful' was the first word that crossed her mind. She surprised herself there, she never thought of real life men as beautiful. In books, they were. Not in real life though. Dean was cute. Logan was handsome, fetching. He was beautiful. And his messy curls seemed to be begging to be ruffled. He wore concentration well, too.
She snapped out of it, remembering that he was incredibly annoying. She scolded herself lightly, not too much; at twenty-three she knew herself well enough to be aware that sometimes she was just attracted to guys, experienced pure, physical desire. It was natural. Not that she would ever admit to feeling like that. Rory Gilmore that the world knew was beyond such earthly matters, she was all sense, not sensibility.
"He'll come out to say hello at some point," Matthew's assuring voice reached her ears. He closed the door, still eliciting no response whatsoever from Jess. "You should really get changed into something dry, you're all red now."
"Yeah," Rory said with a tight smile, flushing even more. "Thanks, Matt."
Over two hours, a conversation with Lorelai and a huge cup of coffee later, Rory was also sitting on the bed in her room, already in dry clothing and her laptop connected to the internet in front of her, reading the news. A light knock on the door startled her and after she uttered a "come in," together with a rambling non-sentence about how awkward it is to let someone in a room that is not hers, no one other than Mariano entered the room.
"Hi," he started, a smirk appearing on his face out of nowhere.
"Hi," Rory answered in an uncomfortable, short moment when she wasn't sure whether she should get up and shake his hand or stay put and nonchalant as he was. Fortunately, he quickly took two steps and sat down in a chair next to the bed.
"You found your way okay?"
"Yeah. The weather is dreadful though," she motioned towards the window that was being rhythmically hit by large drops of water.
"I kind of like the rain," Jess said, with a one-armed shrug. "So, did Matt show you around the apartment yet?"
"Briefly."
"Okay," he said shortly and looked at her with an unreadable expression for a moment. "Don't be surprised if you find a bowl on the staircase, the roof leaks sometimes. And if you want hot water in the shower, you've got to turn the tap thing on to the max first, then when it's already hot you can change it to the shower head," he said and Rory nodded, trying to memorise the instructions. "Oh, and if you have a guy over here, I'd advise to put some pillows under the door. The sound carries," he said casually, causing her to gape at him.
"Why are you automatically assuming I'm a... a whore?"
"I'm assuming you're a whore?" he asked with his eyebrows raised.
"Well, it seems like it," Rory answered angrily. "I came to the city today, I'm only supposed to stay here until Friday so you're basically implying that I'm easy."
"Jeez, I didn't mean to offend you. You might as well have a boyfriend visiting or something."
"No, no boyfriend visiting. No boyfriend at all." She didn't actually know why she added that. But she also didn't miss the light spark in his eye when she said that.
"Is that so?" he asked, that damned smirk back on his face.
"Yes. I'm working for my career now, relationships are too much trouble."
"I totally agree."
"You do?" she asked. She had no idea why her voice sounded slightly disappointed. She met him five minutes earlier and she already wasn't quite in control of herself. That wasn't normal. That was dangerous. And weird. That was probably because he annoyed her so much.
"Yeah."
She waited for him to expand but he didn't. She was infuriated to no end.
"Well, good," she snapped finally. "I don't see why anybody would want to be with you."
"Freaking hell, woman," he said putting up his hands defensively. "You've known me for entire..." he ostentatiously looked at his watch, "four minutes and eleven seconds, why do you hate me so much?"
"I told you already on the phone," she muttered, suddenly getting embarrassed about her outburst.
"Uh huh," Jess grunted and looked so deeply into her eyes that she wanted to run and hide, preferably in the embrace of her mother. She felt naked, despite the fact that he was only looking into her eyes. She forced herself to keep up the eye contact until he finally spoke in a full sentence."Are you so up front with every person you meet? 'Cause you don't strike me as the kind of person who is. It seems to me like this is your defence mechanism against... I don't know what exactly."
Rory shook her head, her cheeks flushing. He was completely right. But she didn't want to answer his question directly. "I'm sorry," she said, shooting him an apologetic look. "I'm just really stressed out. New city, new job, it's a lot to take in. I guess I snapped."
"You're forgiven. Let's start again, shall we?" he said and offered her his hand. "Jess Mariano."
"Rory Gilmore," she obliged.
He let go of her hand after holding it for a barely noticeable second longer than necessary. She, however, became acutely aware of it when a tingling feeling spread across her arm. And she always thought that it was some cheesy product of romance writers' imaginations.
"So you're Lorelai's daughter," Jess started when their hands parted. "What kind of name is that, anyway?" he asked mockingly, instantly bringing them back to square one as Rory fixed him with her withering stare.
She promised herself to never give him another chance again.
