Thanks for the feedback! Paris was always one of my favourite characters!
Light pricked at her eyelids and Rory opened her eyes. She was lying on Paris's living room floor, still fully dressed but with a blanket over her and a pillow by her head. Rory frowned and tried sitting up, clapping a hand to her head as her friend walked in.
"Moving was a bad idea!"
"Hello, Sleeping Beauty," Paris said, looking a little worse for wear herself. "Do you feel as bad as you look?"
"Oh my God, my head," Rory moaned, too miserable to take offense at Paris's comment. "Water. Why do we always forget to drink water?"
"We passed out and besides, we couldn't make it to the kitchen."
"My mouth tastes like I've eaten three bags of sand," Rory said bleakly, holding her hands over her eyes and groaning as Paris flung the curtains open and marched to the kitchen. "What'd you do that for?"
"Here," Paris said impatiently, returning with a large glass of water and an aspirin. "Drink this and stop sounding like the kid from Life of Pi."
Rory took it gratefully, drinking in large gulps and holding the glass in both hands. She looked up at Paris curiously who was wearing her pyjamas and was sitting on the sofa.
"What? Do I look as terrible as you do?"
"How come you made it to bed and I ended up crashing on the floor?"
"I tried to move you," Paris said. "Remember how we woke up to puke? I said I was going to bed and you should too and you refused, and there was kicking involved. You said you liked the floor. I couldn't even get you to come into my bedroom. You shouted something about cheesy snacks and when I got changed I found you fast asleep right where you are now. I put a blanket over you, didn't I? I was going to try and slip a pillow under your head but your breath made me go and puke again."
"I thought I was going to the kitchen," Rory groaned, all of it coming back in horribly vivid colours. "I was going to get cheesy snacks and water. My intentions were good."
"Don't say cheesy snacks," Paris begged, looking queasy. "You're making me want to puke again."
"Speaking of," Rory said, staggering to her feet and running to the bathroom as bile rose in her throat, ignorant to Paris's shouts of not getting vomit on her floor. She wished her mother had hangover food and then went red. She was more than relieved that her mother wasn't there.
"Why does my butt hurt?" Paris asked curiously as Rory weakly came back. "You were kicking at me but you didn't get my butt."
"It's probably from falling off the table."
"Falling off the table?" Paris frowned and then she looked horrified as realisation dawned. "Did I sing?"
"Broadway was jealous," sniggered Rory but she quickly stopped laughing as Paris retorted,
"At least I didn't make a tearful speech about having to quit sex if I gave up on men, nympho."
"I think I'm going to puke again," Rory said, putting a hand to her mouth and Paris ran ahead to the bathroom.
"You've got company."
After taking turns to throw up Rory and Paris managed to make it back to the living room with snacks and water in tow.
"Put on some bad TV," Rory groaned, closing her eyes. "I need to shut off my brain."
"Are you going to call him?"
"What?"
"Jess."
"Not today," Rory said, battling another wave of nausea. "It's going to be hard when I'm not hungover."
"How did the kiss even happen? You didn't really go into that."
"I don't know," Rory said, curling her legs up. "He was asking about that sucky time in my life where I quit Yale and he was so nice to me. He said I shouldn't hate myself for it, that Logan was a jerk and I deserved better."
"I'll agree with him on that. I never liked him."
"I know," Rory said wearily. "And I don't know, it just helped so much for someone to tell me that we have to go through stuff like that. It made me feel like a weight had been lifted."
"You mean it helped for him to tell you that," Paris said, nudging her. "I know you, Gilmore."
"I guess," Rory admitted. "I feel so ashamed about how he saw me last." She looked at her friend. "What do you think about Jess?"
"I always thought he was the most intelligent of your boyfriends," Paris said, handing her a bowl of cheesy chips. "Even if he did have all that angsty teenage crap."
"He's grown out of that now."
"Well...I don't think he sounds that bad," Paris said and Rory looked at her, knowing that was high praise. "I say you screw him."
Rory burst into laughter, the serious moment over.
"Turn on the TV."
Several hours later, after sprawling on Paris's sofa with a large bowl of mac and cheese and the television turned down low, Rory tried going home. She thought that the fresh air would help, that it would make her sick to ride in a cab, but as she unsteadily stepped out onto the street she knew she had made the wrong decision. The wind smacked her face, making her head spin, and after stopping three times to throw up Rory made it home, too hungover to care about how she had to look. She took aspirin, drank the biggest glass of water possible and fell spread-eagled onto her bed, falling instantly asleep.
A strange buzzing sound woke her some hours later. For a moment Rory thought some loud, overgrown bee was in her ear and she swatted at it impatiently, rolling over and falling off the bed. This woke her up properly, making her realise that the buzzing was her intercom and she crawled over to the receiver groaning in pain.
"What?"
"Is that you, Rory?"
"Who's this?"
"It's Jess," came her ex-boyfriend's voice and Rory groaned. "Are you okay?"
"I've been better."
"Can I come up?"
"Fine," Rory said miserably, too sick to argue. "I'm buzzing you through."
She pressed the button and held a hand to her throbbing head, cursing herself and wishing she had come up with an excuse. She should have said she had flu or something. It was too late now and there wasn't even enough time to try and make herself look less like she'd spent the night on Pars's floor. All too soon Rory heard his knock on the door.
Rory opened it and Jess stared at her.
"Wow. Are you okay?"
"Thanks for saying I look terrible."
"You're wearing the same clothes you left in," Jess said and Rory went red. "Did you go to some guy's place or something?"
"That had better be a joke."
"Are you sick? You look like you should be in bed."
"Sort of," grimaced Rory, turning and going back into the apartment and getting herself some water.
"Can I come in?"
"You're here, aren't you?"
Jess rolled his eyes and followed her inside, waiting for her to turn round.
"Rory, where have you been?"
"What do you mean?"
"I called you about three times."
"Sorry," Rory said, feeling a little unsteady and gripping the edge of the sink. "I was...I didn't hear my phone."
"I was worried."
"I'm sorry," Rory said, drinking the water. "I didn't know you were going to call – I said I wanted go home and think."
"I wasn't going to call," Jess said, looking embarrassed and sticking his hands in the pockets of his black jacket. "But I really wanted to talk to you so I called you today. I thought you were mad and ignoring my calls."
"Jess!"
"I didn't think that was like you," Jess admitted. "And then I figured you'd call me back eventually but you didn't and I guess I worried you weren't okay, and seeing that there is no fresh coffee in this kitchen shows cause for concern."
"I went to Paris's."
"Paris's?" Jess echoed, walking over to her and then stepping away, putting a hand over his mouth. "Wow, did you drink the entire New York property of booze when you were there?"
"Shut up," Rory said weakly and he laughed.
"So you're sick, huh?"
"I'm really not in the mood for having visitors," Rory said waspishly and he badly hid a chuckle. "Can we talk tomorrow or something? I'm sorry I missed your calls."
"Did you tell her?"
"What?"
"Did you tell Paris?"
"I..." Rory went red, remembering the conversation she and Paris had had last night. "Look, it's none of your business if I did or not. She's my best friend."
"I figured as much."
"So what if I did tell her?" Rory snapped. "I had to talk to someone!"
"Can you talk to me?" Jess asked desperately and Rory looked away. "Please talk to me, Rory. We need to talk about this."
"Right now?" Rory exclaimed and he said sulkily,
"You talked to Paris."
"That's different," Rory snapped. "Paris is a neutral party."
"Paris is neutral?" Jess said incredulously. "Are we talking about the same woman? Paris is neutral the same way the Mafia is neutral."
"I wouldn't worry, Paris likes you."
"Wow, that makes me feel so much better."
"Jess, please," Rory groaned, holding her head. "Not now. I feel as bad as I look."
"We can't just forget about it, Rory."
"I know we can't!" Rory exclaimed. "But right now it feels like Stars Hollow High's marching band is rehearsing in my head while wearing spiked boots!"
Jess sighed, looked at her and stated laughing again.
"Shut up," Rory said as he laughed harder and harder. "This isn't funny. One of these days you'll get even more hungover than I am right now and karma will be laughing at you and so will I."
"Oh, I'm sure. That bad?"
"Worse," Rory said, pushing him towards the door. "Now please let me go and pass out so I don't puke again."
"Salted chips," Jess said seriously, as he left the room and Rory looked at him non-plussed.
"What?"
"Plain salted chips. That's my hangover cure."
"Right," Rory said and he smiled sheepishly.
"I'm sorry I made you get up."
"So am I."
"You're very honest today," Jess remarked. "Call me when you want to talk, okay?"
Rory nodded and he gave her an awkward smile before finally turning around and going down the stairs. Rory groaned, leaning against the door and then frowned as she heard another buzzing sound, only this time it wasn't the intercom. A glance to her right showed she had dumped her handbag on the floor and the buzzing was her phone. Rory cursed cellphones as she picked it up, thinking darkly that it had better be the last of people contacting her that day.
"Yeah?"
"Wow, good morning sweetie," her mother said. "Only it's more like good evening. What's wrong with you?"
"I'm sick," Rory said miserably and her mother sighed.
"How much did you drink?"
"How did you –? All I said was that I was sick!"
"I have a wonderful motherly intuition for knowing when my baby girl has been drinking. So how much?"
"Half a bottle of vodka," Rory moaned and Lorelai gasped. "It gave the Founders' Day Punch occasion a run for its money."
"Oh, Rory. Did you end up spending the night on the bathroom floor?"
"Close," Rory winced. "Far too close for my liking."
"Wow. So what caused this insane bout of drinking?"
Rory paused.
"No reason. I just went to Paris's for girl talk and it turned into a lot of drinking...a lot of drinking."
"Rory, come on. You don't just drink half a bottle of vodka for the hell of it – well, you don't, anyway."
"It was nothing, Mom," Rory lied uneasily. "I just went over to talk, she brought it out and somehow we ended up venting our frustrations and drinking. It was totally unplanned."
"Okay," Lorelai said uneasily. "Well, sometimes the best nights are."
"I'd hardly call it a best night," Rory said unhappily. "I feel like...I don't know how to tell you how bad I feel. The room has only just stopped spinning."
"Oh, honey. Go lie down."
"I will. I'm going to try plain salted chips. Apparently that's a great hangover cure."
"Who told you that?" Lorelai asked curiously and Rory said awkwardly,
"The internet."
"Wow. You really can find anything on there these days. Well, I was just calling to see if you were okay, you know, after the dinner."
"I don't want to think about that right now, Mom," Rory said, holding her head and closing her eyes and her mother sighed.
"I guess you don't really feel like thinking about anything."
"Mom I'm having trouble about thinking how to use the microwave," Rory said and heard Lorelai laugh.
"Get takeout. I'm going to let you go, honey."
"Okay. Sorry for being such a rotten daughter to talk to."
"Oh please, you answered the phone. I never answer the phone when I've been drinking."
"Right," grinned Rory. "Bye, Mom."
"Bye, sweets."
Rory groaned as she hung up the phone, going and lying down on the bed. She hadn't even planned on lying to Lorelai and all the mistruths had just come spilling out of her mouth. She just couldn't face talking about it right now, not with anyone but especially not her mother, whom she knew would freak out and tell her she'd known that this would happen. She would ask her what meant, like Jess had, and Rory stared miserably at the ceiling. She didn't even know herself. A glance to the right showed a bag of salted chips from a movie night the other day and Rory reached over and picked them up, feeling better already as she started to eat. She supposed that was one good thing which had come from her hideous day. She could add this to her list of things which would stop her throwing up and, from the way her stomach felt, it was going to be a long night.