Too Cute for Luke

Chapter 10: Ground Rules

I'd like to thank Jewels, my wonderful Beta, who not only edited this chapter, she took on the first 6 chapters as well, helping me make it presentable for the BWR publishing. She really helped give me the confidence to publish this chapter when I was really nervous about it. Jewels, your comments and insight really mean a lot. Thank you, Jewels for so generously sharing your talent.

I'd also like to thank LoriD who really "gets" what this story is about. She has a way of crawling into the character's head, bringing out an uncanny insight. She "talked me down" over this chapter, too. Thank you Lori, for all of your wonderful comments and suggestions.


And, thank you all who have been sticking with this story. It's been a lot of fun so far, but I felt some pressure not to disappoint you. There's one more chapter after this!

Luke, Lorelai, and Dicey rolled themselves out of the limo, laughing, and stumbling. Pulling their coats on and clutching their belongings, they headed into the lobby, hand, in hand, in hand. When they reached the stairs, they were still laughing. Trying to remain quiet, they shushed each other between stifled giggles, while bumping into the walls and the banister. Like children in church, the harder they tried, the more impossible it became to stop laughing.

In an attempt to keep from waking the guests, Lorelai let go of Luke's hand in front of her. With one hand on the banister to keep herself steady, she bent at the waist and slipped a finger into the back strap of each sandal. She slid them off smoothly, one at a time. Upon straightening, she used her forearm to lift the tresses that tumbled over her shoulder and blocked her vision. That's when she noticed Michel watching her intently. For a fleeting moment their eyes caught, but she pulled her gaze away, refocusing on her ascension. She immediately padded up the stairs to catch up to Luke and Dicey, her shoes hooked over two fingers, dangling by their straps.

Despite the haziness of alcohol, she suddenly felt sober. What the heck is Michel doing here this late? she thought. Michel's look was puzzling. She couldn't read his emotions. She could tell that his eyes didn't convey strong negative emotions like jealousy, resentment, or hurt. Yet she wasn't quite sure if what she saw was a projection of her own feelings: embarrassment at being seen by him, apprehension, and some fear. She pushed the image into the back of her mind and entered Dicey's door, which was open and waiting for her.

As soon as the door latched shut, Lorelai jumped imperceptibly. She began to feel the familiar tightness in her abdomen, like she had so many times that week. Breathing deeply to shake off her nerves, she piled her purse and coat on an armchair in the corner. Luke and Dicey followed suit.

They each plopped down on a different piece of furniture. Luke was on a chair next to the nightstand, Dicey on the bed, and Lorelai on the bench at its foot. In the light of the guestroom, their laughing had subsided, giving way to nervous gestures and shy glances.

Lorelai's eyes darted around the room. She noticed the sconces that she so deliberately picked out for the rooms. Their curved lines matched the light fixtures in the ceilings. And again, the same elements of style were echoed in the headboards and legs of the beds, the beds that she had so painstakingly searched for. Perfect beds, where happy, in-love couples would relax and plan their futures, or reminisce about their pasts. In all the time that she put into each and every detail, from the window coverings, to the coasters, she never once dreamed that she'd bring another woman along with her and the man she loved to share one of those perfect beds.

She suddenly sensed that the room was spinning around her. She had to consciously think about her breathing, bringing herself back to the here and now. Is it just me, she thought, or are the walls getting shorter? She studied the lined wallpaper that took her weeks to choose, and wondered if she were imagining that the lines were bowing in, arching toward her.

Dicey kicked off her heels. "Make yourselves comfortable," she said. "I hope you don't mind if I do, too." She reached behind her neck, and unclasped her necklace, then placed it on the nightstand nearest her, pooling the chain in a loose puddle of links. Lorelai noticed Dicey's calm demeanor; she was deliberate, and relaxed. She wondered how this woman could possess so much composure, when she herself could scarcely contain the tremors that were threatening to overcome her limbs.

While Dicey excused herself to 'get more comfortable,' Lorelai glanced at Luke. He was leaning forward on the antique chair that she bought from Mrs. Kim. His rolled cuffs exposed strong forearms, which were resting comfortably on his widely spaced knees. His fingers interlocked lightly as he studied them. And, although he had shaved earlier this evening, he already had the familiar dark stubble shadowing his chiseled features. He was so beautiful. I can do this, I can do this, she willed her brain to chant, but she couldn't will her gut to stop stirring or her heart to stop pounding.

He looked up, caught her staring at him, and gave her a slight smile accompanied by a wink. She melted under his gaze, like she had done so many times before. He extended his hand toward her, palm up, inviting her to him. She went and slid onto his knee. He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. "Are you alright?" he asked, his husky voice slightly above a whisper, resonated against her throat.

She nodded, unable to speak, barely able to breathe.

"You're shivering. Are you cold?" he asked, as he began rubbing her body with quick, short strokes of his arms, attempting to warm her.

"No," she managed to say, searching his eyes for some hint that she was about to do the right thing.

"Lorelai, we should g…" He was cut off by Dicey's cheerful words floating in through the dressing room.

"Hey, I want to compliment you on Luke's birthday cake." She was smiling as she re-entered the room. "Now, that is something I will never forget."

"Thanks, I had fun making it." Lorelai smiled directly into Luke's eyes.

"Yes, it was something," Luke said, beaming with pride. He loved Lorelai as much for her inability to boil water, as for her ability to make his heart soar every time she smiled.

The look exchanged by the two lovers wasn't lost on Dicey. As if on cue, she circled the room, and turned off all the lights except the smallest one on the desk. She ended up standing behind Luke, on Lorelai's side, so close that Lorelai could feel the heat radiating from her body. Lorelai looked at Luke, and could see his Adam's apple dip and rise at the sight of the women's proximity to each other. With one hand, Dicey moved all of Lorelai's hair off one shoulder, and over the other. Lorelai stilled under Dicey's touch.

Lorelai's sensations were conflicting. Physically, her nerve endings were on fire, reaching and wanting more of the touch, straining toward the smooth hand at her shoulder. But her brain screamed, No, this isn't right for us. In the battle between logic and pleasure, her body was winning the internal struggle. She was caught up in the spell of Luke's fantasy, and in the desire to give him everything he wanted, and everything he deserved.

She was so enrapt in the combined sensation of Luke's warm, comfortable embrace, and the novelty of Dicey's soft caress, that at first she didn't recognize it. It was soft and muffled, but the musical sound was familiar. It pulled her out of her trance when she finally identified it, and jolted her into action. Lorelai moved across the room and dug through the coats on the armchair next to the bed. She found her purse and retrieved her cell phone. "Hello," she said breathlessly, discarding her silver clutch on the pile of coats.

"Lorelai? You are not chopped liver," the accented voice said.

Without saying a word, she folded the phone shut. Suddenly it was clear to her. The look in Michel's eyes wasn't any of the emotions she previously considered. It was beautiful in its simplicity, really. She didn't know how she could have misinterpreted it. The look she saw was friendship.

Lorelai backed up to the door and mumbled, "Um, I'm sorry. It's Michel, he uh, needs some help." She looked at Dicey, then at Luke, and said again, "I'm so sorry." She slipped out the door in her stocking feet, failing to notice that her purse had spilled its entire contents onto the floor.

The door latched and Luke said to Dicey, "This isn't right," at the exact moment that Dicey said, "I can't do this."

"What?" she asked.

"No, please, you first," he deferred.

Dicey poured out her thoughts. "Ok, me first. I can't do this. You guys love each other too much. I see how she adores you, and how you look at her. You two are meant to be together and I can only hope to someday have a fraction of what you have. Lorelai is great; her enthusiasm is infectious. I got caught up in her wanting to make you happy, so much so that I talked myself into thinking I was somehow helping you two out by making all the moves, because she was too shy. I tried to follow through, really I did. I thought that's what she wanted me to do. I thought it would be good for you two. But we both know that's not the case. Doing this isn't me, it's not you, and it certainly isn't Lorelai. Maybe in college, it could have worked, but this isn't college. This is your love, your life, with Lorelai."

Luke nodded his agreement. "Dicey, I don't have very many friends, and even though we don't keep in touch very well, I consider you right up there. I'm really glad you visited. We had a lot of fun. Um, the limo, that was amazing. I will never forget that. But, you're right. I'm not the kid I was in college. I don't need the novelties that I once thought I did. I just need Lorelai." He began gathering his and Lorelai's belongings. He picked up her purse and filled it with the spilled items. Noting the condoms and the scrunchy, he asked, his face flashing a look of uncertainty, "Ground rules?"

"Yes," Dicey said. "But, please understand. She really just wanted to make you happy."

"Yeah, I know."

"Luke?"

"Yeah?"

"She used it, too, you know."

"Used what?"

"The escape clause," she said.

"Yeah, she did, didn't she?"

**

Practically running down the stairs, Lorelai found Michel at the front desk. He was still holding the phone, staring down at it. He wasn't sure how she was going to react, but he was prepared for her to be angry with him for butting his nose in where it didn't belong.

"Michel!" she cried.

"Hello, Lorelai," he said, quickly placing the receiver in its cradle, trying to hide the evidence.

"Michel, why are you still here?"

As if to explain his presence, he said defensively, "Somebody has been using my highlighters without replacing the caps properly. Now I have yellow and pink, which are moist and supple, but the green is like a dried out piece of leather. The green has dried out!"

"What?"

"How can I differentiate the check-ins, from the check-outs, and the no-shows if I have no green? All I can do is leave a washed out streak in the ledger." He waved the capless green pen in front of her face.

"Michel, did you call me just to tell me your highlighters were dry?"

"Why else would I call?" He looked down at his reservation book, flipping the pages intently.

"I don't know, I just thought…" Her voice trailed off.

"Lorelai," he hesitated a moment, then plunged ahead, "I was wrong. Luke may not know how to shave, but he knows how to make you happy."

"Oh, Mich…" Her eyes expressed relief in the recognition that he gave her.

Uncomfortable with any amount of emotion, Michel hurried her away from him. "Instead of standing here without shoes on, why don't you wait for him in the library. He should be down for you within five minutes."

"Let me guess. You know this because you're French?"

"No. I know this because that Brawny Paper Towel man loves you."

Turning toward the library, she looked over her shoulder and said sincerely, "Thank you, Michel."

"For what?"

"On the phone, that's the nicest thing you've ever said to me," she said, tearing up.

**

Without the benefit of a lamp, Lorelai sat on the overstuffed library chair, wondering what to do next. She felt like such a failure. She had one experience to give Luke for his birthday, after all the things he did for her. She had locked and loaded this situation and now she couldn't pull the trigger. All the teasing and foreplay in the limo, and she couldn't go through with it. The limo was another world, separate from any other distractions, like a private capsule isolated from the rest of her life, dark, cozy and mysterious. But when they came back here, to her world, her work, it was different. For some reason, when they finally made it to the guestroom of the Dragonfly Inn, she froze.

God, she felt like a terrible fiancée. She hated disappointing Luke, and now she blew it in front of his old friend. He was going to be so embarrassed and frustrated. She couldn't even begin to think about Dicey's feelings. After this whole week of "courtship," instigated by her own scheming, Lorelai flaked out. A shiver of shame ran up her spine. She had to face them and at least try to explain, no matter how hard it was going to be. She needed to go back up and get her shoes and her purse. She couldn't leave it like this, hiding in a dark library.

After mentally preparing herself to trek back up, she lifted her head and opened her eyes to find Luke's silhouette filling the doorway. She looked up at him, but it was too dark to read his expression. He went to her wordlessly and kneeled at her feet. Silently, he slipped on one silver sandal, then the other. Lorelai wasn't sure if he was too angry for words, so she held her breath, waiting for him to speak; he didn't. Instead, he moved in closer, wrapped his arms around her, and rested his head on her chest where he could hear the beating of her heart.

Her hands instinctively ran through his hair, stroking it softly, feeling the soft texture of his curls as she twirled them around her index finger and thumb. They sat silently for several minutes while their eyes grew accustomed to the dark. He lifted his face toward her; she couldn't place the expression.

"You're wearing your coat," was all she could say, as she searched his eyes.

"I'm taking you home now," he said, as he rose to his feet and pulled her up to him.

Holding open her coat, he said, "Here, put this on." He handed her her purse as he hugged an arm around her shoulder, and kissed her still wet temple. Their footsteps echoed as he escorted her through the lobby.

While passing the front desk, Luke gave a nod of appreciation to Michel. Michel nodded back. Both were feeling protective of 'their' Lorelai.

"Good night, Michel," she said.

"Good night," he said, then whispered only to himself, "Pate de foie gras."

***

To be continued...