Rory slid a headband into place and smoothed her hands down her hair. She inspected herself in the mirror yet again, hoping this time she would be confident with what she saw.

She was wearing dark, slim jeans with a green sweater. She opted for no jewelry and minimal make-up. Cute but casual was the goal and Rory was pretty sure she had achieved it.

But maybe...

The knock at the main door jolted Rory from her thoughts of self doubt. She took a deep breath and called out, "I got it!" so her suitemates wouldn't get to her date first.

When she opened the door, Rory instantly felt a flutter as she glanced up Marty's jeans, purple striped shirt, black jacket, and into his brown eyes. She could tell she was already grinning like an idiot.

Earwax, earwax, earwax! "Um, hi."

"Hi. You look ... lovely," Marty said with a lopsided grin.

"Thanks. You, too. I mean, nice. You look nice." Rory heaved a sigh, trying to regain control.

"Thank you."

At this point, Rory noticed he had both hands behind his back.

Marty must have caught her glance since he added, "Oh yeah. I brought you a couple things. Pick one." He swayed one shoulder and then the other toward her.

Rory bit her lip and then reached for his left arm. "This one." The moment her hand touched his bicep, Rory was transported to the last time her hand rested there. She pulled her hand back quickly and hoped Marty didn't notice.

He deftly brought a small pot into view without knocking the flowers it housed against his sleeve. "For you."

Rory took the flowers and looked up at him with a suppressed smirk. "Potted?"

"Well, yeah. Flowers are a typical gift to bring your date, but cut flowers are dying right from the start. These, on the other hand, will keep on living as long as you give them a little attention."

"So really you gave me an obligation."

"Yes, but you seem responsible enough to handle it," Marty fired back with a grin. "Want the other?"

Rory nodded, wondering if this one would be as sweet.

Marty presented a gift bag. As Rory peered into it, he said, "It doesn't actually count as a present since it's already yours."

Inside was her blue robe, washed and neatly folded. She left it in the bag in case Tana or Janet came out and got the wrong idea. "Thanks. I'll just put these in my room. You can wait in here if you want," Rory said, gesturing to the common room.

She placed the flower pot on the windowsill by her bed and placed the gift bag on the floor of her closet. Then Rory took another deep breath and muttered to herself, "Well, you haven't jumped him yet, so that's something."

Out in the common room, she found Marty inspecting Paris' table. "Are you the crafty one?"

"No, that would be my roommate, Paris. Be grateful you were spared meeting her tonight."

"In that case, maybe we shouldn't push our luck hanging around here. Shall we?" Marty put out his elbow.

Rory steeled herself to block another flashback as she took his arm. "We shall."

Once they were out of the building, Marty said, "So Rory, I thought we might start with learning each other's last names."

Rory cringed, realizing how little she knew about the guy she went so far with.

Marty must have caught her reaction because he squeezed her elbow with his own and added, "Hey, relax. Tonight is a do-over. We're starting from scratch, so it's totally normal that we don't know last names yet. Here, I'll start. I'm Marty Fischer."

Feeling calmer, she chuckled. "Hi, Marty Fischer. I'm Rory Gilmore."

"And have you declared your major yet, Rory Gilmore?"

"Well, I want to be a journalist, so I'm planning on doubling in PoliSci and Communication. You?"

"Ooo, very ambitious. I just have one: Creative Writing."

"So can I assume you're planning on writing the great American novel?"

"You can as long as you aren't mocking me." Marty smiled down at her.

Rory blushed and forced her gaze to the sidewalk. So far she was doing pretty well. But when she looked into his eyes for too long, Rory felt a strong desire to pull Marty closer. And if he were closer, she would need to kiss him. And if she kissed him, all sanity would be lost.

Dinner was better, but only marginally. It helped that there was a table between them. Lower chance of physical contact meant fewer impulses Rory would have to fight off.

The problem was that Marty was right there in front of her, making it nearly impossible to look anywhere else.

When she felt herself falling into his eyes, Rory would redirect her gaze to his mouth. She only had seconds to rest there before memories of his soft lips and tantalizing tongue made her brain fuzzy. Even staring at something as seemingly harmless as the seam on his jacket didn't help because that would just remind her of why he promised not to take it off all night.

Is this what it's like being a guy? Trying to will your date to take off some clothes? Losing concentration because you keep picturing the other person naked?

"Rory?"

"Hmm?" she asked absently.

"You were talking about your favorite diner back home, and then you kind of trailed off."

"Oh right, yeah," she said with more alertness. "So Luke makes the best coffee and Danishes, and all the town gossips hang out there so it's a great place to get the scoop."

Marty chuckled. "Sounds fun."

"What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Where you do you like to hang out back home?"

"Oh, uh, you know ... anywhere really," Marty answered evasively, suddenly interested in his ravioli.

One eyebrow raised itself skeptically. "You're a terrible liar."

"Okay, but please don't judge me. It's not nearly as geeky as it sounds."

Rory put her hands over the middle of the table and traced out a large circle. "Judgement free bubble here."

Marty nodded nervously. "My friends and I ... like to play laser-tag. I know, I know, it's something straight out of the 80s, but it's kind of a podunk town and it's the best we have. And it..." He gave a little shrug. "...really is pretty fun."

Rory couldn't help but smile at him. His embarrassment and apologetic gushing were just too endearing.

"What?" he asked cautiously.

"You're cute." It was out of her mouth before she realized what she said. Her eyes widened and her face flushed, not really knowing what reaction to expect.

Marty smiled. "So are you."

Though Rory's brow relaxed, her face remained flushed, only now it was for a very different reason. She took a sip of water in hopes that it would hide her giddy grin.

The movie was nice. Well ... not the movie itself. Or maybe it was. Rory couldn't really comment on it. All she remembered was whispering with Marty during the previews, burying her face on the shoulder of his jacket when he laughed at something silly she said, and letting her head linger there just long enough for him to decide to put his arm around her.

From that point on she just soaked him in. The scent of his fabric softener from his clothes. The weight of his arm on hers. The way his thumb ran back and forth along her sleeve. The warmth of his breath in her hair.

Then all too soon the people around them were standing up and the house lights came back on.

They walked back to Durfee with linked elbows again, chatting easily. It wasn't until they were approaching her hallway that Rory's nervous energy came back.

"Well, here we are," he announced at her door.

"Yup, here we are." The scene of the crime! "I'd invite you in, but I had a really great night and would prefer not to let Paris ruin that."

"Wow, you really don't like your roommate, do you?"

"No, I do. I do!" she insisted under Marty's doubting gaze. "It's just that I've had three years to get used to her and all of her, um, idiosyncrasies. She's a bit much for the uninitiated, that's all."

"I'll take your word for it, then. And I had a really great night, too."

Rory tried to suppress her smile as she looked up at Marty. The moment of truth was upon her. Marty was about to lean in for a kiss, just feet away from where they shared their first. She'd kept her head on reasonably straight the whole night; could she hang on to her sanity for just a few minutes more?

She tilted her chin up to meet his advancing lips. His kisses were sweet and soft and warm. Rory lifted her hands to place them on his chest, imagining she would soon be feeling his smooth skin. When, instead, her hands landed on his lapels, Rory let out a muffled laugh against his mouth.

"What?"

"I can't believe you really kept your jacket on all night."

"Of course. I had to prove I'm a man of my word."

"Well, QED then."

Marty chuckled and gave her a light kiss. "Would it be too clingy of me to meet you here in the morning so we can walk to class together?"

Rory beamed up at him. "No. I'd like that."

"Good. Well then, goodnight Rory, and see you tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Marty."

For a moment he looked torn between lingering and leaving. Suddenly, his mouth was by her ear. "For the record," Marty whispered, "I struggled with flashbacks, too."

He pulled back and paused briefly. Before she could process his words or the glint in his eye, he was disappearing up the stairs.

Rory entered her dorm in a foggy haze, stunned that her thoughts had been so transparent, and envious that he had hidden his so well. A pleased flush warmed her skin at the idea of him picturing her the same way she had imagined him.

"Well, you clearly had a good time," Paris intoned from her craft table. "But you're home too early to have had that good of a time, right?"

Rory rolled her eyes. "Goodnight, Paris," she said as she entered her room.

"Goodnight, Mary."

Rory changed into her pajamas. As she hung up her clothes, she noticed the gift bag in the corner of her closet. Rory removed the robe and buried her nose in it, inhaling the now familiar scent of his fabric softener. Then she slipped her arms into it and crawled into bed.