Disclaimer: I've given up trying to think of clever and mildly-scathing ways to disclaim my stories. I don't own anything, at all.

A/N: It's been like...a year. I know. And I doubt any of my readers are still my readers. But, hey, if you read this, good for you! Review, please. If you have a pulse.

--

"Mom, we're late!" Rory hopped one-legged from her bedroom into the kitchen, attempting to get her saddle shoes on.

"No we're not!" Lorelai called from upstairs.

"Yes we are!"

"No we're not, the power went out last night!"

Rory sat down in a kitchen chair and pouted. It was Tuesday, and she had a pre-calculus test today. Not to mention a quiz on the American Revolution and a rotational kinematics lab in physics. Today was not the day to be late for school. She reached into her backpack for her phone to check the time.

6:00 on the dot. She didn't have to catch her bus for another hour and and fifteen minutes.

"Mom?" She called, getting up and walking towards the stairs.

She ascended them quietly.

"Yeah, sweetie?"

Lorelai was still in bed.

"I'm going to Luke's. You want me to bring you something, or should I just hang there?"

"I'll get up in fifteen minutes," (no, she won't) "Just hang out there. Bother Luke for me. Save me a seat."

"You got it, dude."

--

Since the Book Fair, Rory and Jess had gotten along comfortably. Almost too comfortably. At the diner, they either exchanged friendly pleasantries (usually in the company of Dean) or chatted extensively about whatever it was they were reading.

Currently, Rory was reading As I Lay Dying for her AP English class, Franny and Zooey for fun, and Poems by Emily Dickinson on the bus.

The book that Jess had bought her had a hard cover. It was worn slightly at the edges, and it smelled like rain. She loved it.

Luke was wiping down counters. He looked up at the sound of the bell.

"Hey, Rory," he said, confusion in his voice and on his face. He looked at the clock. He looked at Rory. "It's 6:15."

"Power went out. I thought it was later," Rory explained. Luke nodded, still confused, but seemingly satisfied with her reasoning.

Rory sat down at the counter, and Luke wordlessly poured her a cup of coffee.

"Thank you." She smiled appreciatively and took a long sip.

"Can I get some chocolate chip pancakes?"

"Sure," Luke said, nodding.

"And some bacon. Lots of bacon."

Luke shook his head and went back into the kitchen to make Rory her breakfast. Caesar didn't arrive until around 7. Even Kirk had yet to show up.

The bell chimed. Well, so much for that.

"Hi, Rory," Kirk sat down two seats over. He removed his coat and set it down on the seat next to him. "Luke, are you here?"

Luke popped his head out of the kitchen, annoyance etched in every line on his face.

"Of course I'm here. Hold on a minute."

Kirk shut up. He was suddenly fascinated by the condiment rack in front of him. He grabbed a handful of sugar packets and shoved them into one of his pockets. Rory grinned and took another sip of her coffee.

She let her gaze wander to the curtain. As Rory's eye's wandered, so did her mind.

Behind the curtain, there was a staircase. Up the staircase, a door. Behind the door, an apartment. Inside the apartment, Jess...

Jess had to be sleeping, peacefully, an expression of tranquillity gracing his handsome features. Like the first night they met.

His hair had to be ruffled. Slept-in. Loose and gel-free. She could run her fingers through it, and--

"More coffee?"

"Huh, uh, what?" Luke's voice brought her back down to earth. Back downstairs, anyway. She gazed into her mug. Empty. "Y-yes. Yes, please." She smiled a tight-lipped and reasurring smile. Her cheeks were hot. Kirk couldn't read minds, could he? Dammit, think about anything but Jess.

Cabbage patch kids. Uh, ring pops. The movie Glitter.

Dean. Think about Dean.

Luke set a plate of pancakes in front of her, and she smiled up at him, that same tight-lipped, reassuring smile. It was bashful and charming, and she didn't have the energy to fake enthusiasm.

"Kirk, you know we don't have corndogs here."

"But this is a diner."

"A diner. My diner. Not a boardwalk. Order something else."

"I want a corndog."

Luke groaned in frustration and headed into the kitchen. A few minutes later, he emerged with a hotdog and some cornbread.

"Rory, make sure Kirk doesn't light anything on fire. I'll be right back."

Rory laughed silently to herself. She reached into her backpack and pulled out her Emily Dickinson and began leafing through titles, looking for one that jumped out at her.

One did. The publisher titled it "If you were coming in the fall."

If you were coming in the fall,

I 'd brush the summer by

With half a smile and half a spurn,

As housewives do a fly.

She read over the first stanza a few times. It's meaning became clearer and clearer with each re-read, and a smile slowly spread across her lips as she read. She thumbed through the pages again, keeping a mark on the page with the poem, and she found that she was in a section of the book entitled "Love."

So, it was arranged by theme.

She returned to her love poem. "I'd brush the summer by...as housewives do a fly." She smiled again. Just the thought of it--speeding up time, casting it aside--just to be with the object of one's affection sooner. It was endearing. Rory was no sap, but she liked the idea.

She finished her pancakes silently, casting a few glances in Kirk's direction. Luke may have been kidding about the fire bit, but Kirk definitely required some supervision.

She finished off the rest of her coffee, too. She sighed and glanced in the direction of the curtain. No Luke.

She got up and walked around the counter to pour herself another cup. She still had 45 minutes left till she had to leave. She needed more coffee.

"Hey, you can't go back there!" Kirk doth protest.

"No, Kirk. You can't go back here."

Kirk frowned, but he didn't respond.

"You want more coffee?" Rory offered.

"Yes, please," Kirk said. Rory grabbed the regular pot. Before she could pour, Kirk stopped her. "Wait! I take it a quarter-caf, three-quarters decaf."

Rory rolled her eyes, but she complied with his request.

She returned to her side of the counter and continued reading her poem.

--

"Ow!" She looked up and saw Jess rubbing the back of his head. "Jeez..."

Luke followed shortly behind him. "I'll be back before you leave for school. Don't do anything stupid."

"Aye, aye." Jess saluted. "Hey," he nodded casually to Rory.

"Morning," she greeted. "Bye, Luke," she called as the diner owner made his exit.

"I see you're reading the book I got you," he said, gesturing to the anthology. He looked over the counter to see which poem she was reading. "

Rory's cheeks grew hot once more as he read the words in front of her. The sound his voice made as he recited the poem was almost too much to take.

"I, uh, really liked this one," Rory stammered.

"It's a good poem," Jess agreed.

"Yeah, it's very...nice." Nice? Was she serious? She had a much better vocabulary than that. "I never pegged you as the poetry type," she commented, looking at him as he read over the page.

"I'm not," he said pointedly.

"Well, so far, it's been Howl, Dickinson..."

"I'm not the poetry 'type,'" he said, using finger quotes to emphasize his distaste for the word.

"If you say so..." She fiddled with the spoon in her coffee cup, not nervously, but pensively.

Jess eyed her knowingly and supressed a smirk. Rory finally had time to take in his appearance.

His hair was the same as it had been the other day. His shirt was green. He was reading The Sirens of Titan, from what Rory could tell of the cover. Well, it was definitely Vonnegut.

"You should wear your hair like that more often," she blurted out, and she regretted it immediately.

"You like it, do you?" He pressed.

"I-I mean. It's more natural that way. I read somewhere that natural is in..."

"Huh. Did you hear that, Kirk, natural is in."

If Rory wasn't blushing already, she was now. His smirk was daunting. She could feel his eyes drilling holes into her head. She fixed her gaze on the empty plate in front of her. The syrup-y crumbs and half-eaten sausage seemed really appealing.

The bell rang, signaling the arrival of another customer. It was a random townsperson--nobody Rory knew--or, perhaps, a tourist. That giant ball of yarn pulled in a few visitors every year. It was good for things like that.

Rory looked at the clock on the wall, silently cursing herself for having left her watch at home. In her rush, she forgot a few things. It was almost 7. She had to leave by 7:20 or so to catch her 7:28 bus to Hartford. School started at 8:15.

If certain, when this life was out, / That yours and mine should be, / I 'd toss it yonder like a rind, / And taste eternity."

So, now that Rory knew that Jess knew that Rory thought that his hair looked nice when it was "natural," she could never speak to him again. God, when was her mother going to get there?

At around 7, the major diner traffic began to pour in. Jess, luckily, had his hands tied with customers, but Caesar had (got a call from Luke that told him to) come in early, leaving Jess to deliver food, take orders, and refill beverages by himself.

Even so, he threw his glance to Rory whenever possible.

"Young man." He watched her turn the page and bite her lip. Sip her coffee quietly, her gaze not breaking from the page. Her concentration really was impeccable. "I say, young man, are you listening?" A somewhat large blonde woman with a haughty-but-not-quite-British accent called for his attention. "I said, a regular coffee, with cream and sugar. No, scratch that, do you have any Splenda?"

Jess nodded and rolled his eyes, writing down her order. He looked at Rory again. She was engrossed in that damned book of poetry he bought her. He smirked.

"Two eggs, over easy. And a side of bacon. You do have bacon, don't you?"

He gave her a look that said, "We're in a diner. Look around."

She seemed offended, but she said nothing as he went to put her order in.

"Hey, Caesar. Two eggs over easy with bacon." He got the coffee himself.

"Anything else, ma'am?" he said, sarcasm oozing from his mouth. She didn't catch on, or she was ignoring him. Whichever.

"Actually, could I get a glass of grapefruit juice? I'm on a diet."

"Sure thing."

He was just annoyed enough with the woman to make her wait for the grapefruit juice. Or maybe he was just desperate enough to shirk his duties to go talk to Rory.

Silently, he refilled her coffee.

"That's like, my fifth cup," she said, incredulously.

"And you mind?"

"No, I just...Luke usually cuts me off after 3. Well, he tries to cut me off..."

"Do I look like Luke to you?"

She looked him over, tilting her head to the side for dramatic effect. "No flannel shirt. No backwards baseball cap. I guess not," she repressed a smile.

"I'm glad it's the wardrobe that made up your mind," he rolled his eyes, but he shot her a smirk before going to get the grapefruit juice.

Lorelai arrived five minutes before Rory had to catch her bus. She kissed her mother goodbye and waved shyly at Jess.

You need to cut it out, Rory.

She was left to her thoughts as she made her way to the bus stop. Jess was becomming a part of her daily routine. He was her breakfast, her afternoon pick-me-up, her dinner on all days of the week but Friday. He was the only other member of her book club. He stole CDs and books from her bedroom and returned them days later with scratches and margin-notes, respectively.

It didn't stop there. He was in her dreams. He was there, in that tiny moment before Rory would kiss Dean, right before her boyfriend's lips found her own.

She was disgusting. He consumed her, and she let him. She welcomed him, in fact.

Sitting down at the bus stop, she reached into her backpack for her phone. The bus would be there in 4 minutes. Probably longer than that, as it was usually late.

She dropped her phone into the depths of her bag and felt around inside for her book of poems. Not over here, not over there... She groaned.

She must have left it at the diner. She glanced back in the direction of the restaurant, only to find that Jess was jogging--jogging, really?--towards the bus station. Rory stood immediately, leaving her backpack in her seat, and went to meet him halfway.

"Jess, I--"

"You forgot your--"

"--book, I know. Thank you."

He nodded, panting slightly for lack of breath. Wordlessly, he took a few steps backwards before walking back to the diner.

Rory just stood there, awestruck. Dumbfounded. Whatever she was, she couldn't stop starring at him. Couldn't peel her gaze away. For a full 2 minutes, which, for Rory, was a long time to stand in the middle of the street and stare at someone.

"Rory?"

She jumped. "Dean! Oh my God, you scarred me!" She swatted his shoulder. He laughed. "What're you doing here?"

He pointed in the direction he was facing. "School," he said, amused.

"I know, but, what?"

"I should ask you the same thing. Don't you have a bus to catch? You're just standing here, staring at--" Well, what was she starring at.

She blushed and looked at her face. He followed the previous direction of her gaze towards...the diner. Dean flexed his jaw. The bus pulled up.

"Shoot!" Rory exclaimed, running after the bus. "Wait!" She grabbed her backpack and headed onto the bus. She shot Dean an apologetic glance as it pulled away. He waved pathetically back at her, and returned his gaze to the diner.

--

A/N: Was this long? I can't tell. I don't have Microsoft Word. Hence the lack of spell check. Deal with it. And review! Reviewing is good. I approve of the reviewing.