I had real problems writing this chapter, as I needed both Rory and Jess to be more prone to talk about their feelings than they ever were in the series. I'm not 100% pleased with how the chapter turned out, but this is like the thrillionth re-write and I'm a very impatient writer, but I hope they aren't too much out of character. I'm thinking both of them have matured since they were dating…

Please let me know what you think!

"What the hell is going on here?" Matt bursts out the moment Rory and Vanessa steps through the door at Truncheon.

"We're practicing our running skills?" Vanessa suggests and looks around the room. "Where's Jess?"

Matt nods towards the stairs. "Getting dressed. He came down here after you…ran…wearing nothing but a towel. What's going on?"

Vanessa turns to Rory, who's been standing behind her trying to keep a low profile, and nods in the direction of the stairs before she turns again and starts walking towards Matt. "Honey, it's really sweet that you're acting all jealous and stuff…" She strokes his cheek with her hand. "…but this is not the time or the place."

"I wasn't jealous." Matt says and straightens himself up.

Vanessa wraps her arms around him and starts saying something but her words are drowned by Chris' voice as he spots Rory heading up the stairs.

"Where's she going?" Chris says with his eyes focused on Rory.

Rory freezes in the middle of the stair, not knowing whether to respond or to simply keep climbing the stairs.

Vanessa lets go of Matt and takes a step towards the stair, as if to protect Rory. "To see Jess."

"Why?" He snorts. "Was she disappointed that he wasn't the one that came running after her? Is she back for a do-over? " He turns to Rory with a sarcastic smile on his face. "Or did you forget something in the car?"

"Shut up, Chris." Vanessa says in a harsh voice and takes a few steps up the stairs to a very nervous-looking Rory. "They don't know." She whispers. "About the book. They're looking out for him, because they don't know why you're here."

"Should I tell them?" She whispers back. She's anxious to go see Jess, but she doesn't like knowing that his friends doesn't like her and doesn't want her there.

Vanessa shakes her head. "Not now. I'll deal with them, keep them occupied. Take all the time you need." She smiles and squeezes Rory's hand. "Go talk to him."

Rory takes a deep breath and continues up the stairs. She stops outside the door. He wants you here, she tells herself. He wrote the book because he wants to be with you. She takes another deep breath and knocks on Jess' door for the second time that day.

Jess hears the knock on the door and immediately goes to answer it. He forces himself to be calm, to find out why she's here before getting his hopes up. She could might as well have come here to yell at him for sending her that book and ruining her wedding.

He opens the door and has to struggle to keep himself from smiling when met with her smiling face.

"Hi." She says.

"Hi." He answers. They look at each other in an awkward silence for a few moments before he gestures for her to come in.

She follows him into the kitchen, where he stops. Which room is the best place to have this conversation? The kitchen, sitting on each side of the table? No. He looks around. The living room, with the couch? No, that doesn't feel right either.

He sighs. Maybe right here, standing in the kitchen, is the best place. After all, it doesn't really matter where they talk – as long as they do it.

"So…" She says and bites her lip. He recognizes it as one of her nervous habits and can't hold back a smile. "I…"

"I didn't sleep with her." He blurts out before she has a chance to continue saying what she's about to say. Whatever her reason for coming here was; if she was here because she loved him or because she wanted to yell at him, she needed to know that.

"I know." She says and looks around the room, her eyes looking everywhere but at him. "She told me."

"Good." He says and then the silence falls between them again as neither of them says anything further.

"I read your book." She says after a few moments, breaking the silence.

He nods, unsure of what to say in response. Thank you? Did you like it? Did you come here because it reminded you that we belong together? Or did you come here to rip my heart out again? To tell me I'm wrong? I'm not wrong. You're just scared and that's okay – 'cause I am too.

He shakes his thoughts away and clears his throat and gives it his best effort to look indifferent. "I didn't ask you to come."

Her eyes immediately dart to meet his eyes, as if to measure the seriousness of his statement. He's sure he can feel his body trembling with nervousness, but he keeps his eyes fixated at hers and almost forgets to breathe while waiting for her response.

She smiles. "But you did." He doesn't answer, instead he takes a long look at her. She is so beautiful it hurts. And she's here. Here – in Philadelphia, in his apartment, standing only a few feet away.

But they've been here before. And that time he thought she was there because she wanted what he wanted. Because she wanted them – together. This time he has to be sure.

"Didn't you?" Her smile fades and a nervous feature takes its place. "Because your letter said that I could read your book when I'm old and gray, and that is a line from a poem."

A smile spreads across his face at her words and he takes a small step closer to her, but he still doesn't say anything. Maybe it's cruel of him to keep her going when she's already said what he needs to hear – that she is here for the right reason, but her nervous rambling is just one of the things about her that he has missed so much that when finally hearing one he can't bring himself to interrupt it.

"Well, it is not exactly a line, but similar enough to the actual poem not to be a coincidence, and Paris said there was no doubt that by alluding to that poem you wanted me to come."

He takes one more step and she seems to notice how close he's gotten, because she slows down her words and a faint smile finds its way to her mouth when she continues. "And Paris knows these thing – interpreting poems, 'cause that's the kind of things you learn in school, and Paris takes school very seriously."

With one last step he closes the gap between them. "Paris always struck me as an ambitious girl."

"She is, and she –." He interrupts her by placing one of his hands on the small of her back and drawing her closer while crashing his lips to hers.

She kisses him back and wraps her arms around his neck.

She's here. Finally, after all this time, she's here. There's a big smile plastered on his lips as he pulls back just an inch and rests his forehead against hers. "So you liked the book?" He asks and is rewarded with a wide smile from her.

"I loved it."

He feels a warm, soothing feeling somewhere in his stomach and pulls her even closer, hugging her tight.

"I'm glad."

She untangles from the embrace and places her hands on his shoulders and looks him in the eyes. "And I love you, Jess. I really do."

He smiles. "I love you too Rory, I always have."

She looks down at the floor and then back up at him again. "I'm sorry. For everything."

He smiles and shakes his head. "Don't be. We're here now, that's what's important."

She wraps her arms around his neck again and pulls his head closer and kisses him. He answers the kiss and deepens it. He had forgotten how wonderful it felt to kiss her. How everything else seemed to disappear and become less important as soon as he felt her soft lips against his.

They stand so for some time, neither of them willing to let go off the embrace or to let their lips part. He feels Rory's hands moving from his neck to his back, finding their way under his shirt.

Her hands feel cold against his back, but that doesn't seem to do anything to cool down the heat taking over his body as her hands investigates the muscles on his back.

Her hands travel down again, to the hem of his shirt and she starts tugging at it, motioning for him to take it off.

It takes a great deal of self-control to be able to pull back from her eager kisses and touches, but he has to. "Rory." He says as he pulls his head back.

"Mmm." She mumbles and lets her lips find his neck as a substitute for the disappearing mouth.

He moans and is about to give in when he finds that ounce of self-control that is still left and pushes her away at arm-length. "Rory. Do you want this?"

She looks confused by the interruption. "Would I be kissing you like that if I didn't? " She frowns. "Why? Don't you?"

He lets out a breath of air. "Oh, I want this. Believe me."

She bites her lip. "So, what's the problem?"

"It's the first time." She raises her eyebrows, looking very surprised and he hurries to add: "For us…the first time for us." He puts his hand on her cheek and strokes her lips with his thumb. "I just want you to be sure. Maybe you'd want a more romantic setting: rose petals, candles, music, something memorable…" He trails off when met with a big smile.

She turns her head against his hand and kisses his palm and shakes her head as in disbelief. "You wrote me a book Jess. I don't know how it could ever be more romantic or memorable than that."

He smirks. "Well, in that case."

"I don't get it." Rory lies with her head rested on Jess' chest, her fingers drawing circles next to her head. "Why did you write the letter like that? Why did you tell me not to come and then left the lines to the poem like that? Why didn't you just tell me to come?"

He strokes her hair absent-mindedly as he answers. "It might have been a long shot, but I figured if all your feelings for me was gone, if you truly loved Logan with all your heart, you would focus on the 'I have moved on' part of the letter and see the book as a collection of memories and maybe stove the letter away in a box somewhere." He smiles and leans down and kisses her forehead. "In this case of scenario, both the book and the letter could have been counted for as a wedding gift…But, if you still loved me, you would read the letter again and again, and sooner or later you would make the connection."

She stops drawing circles with her fingers. "It wasn't me who made the connection. It was Paris. I should have made it, but I didn't."

"Hmm…maybe I was wrong then. Maybe Paris is the girl for me." She softly smacks her hand against his arm. He smiles and continues. "Or maybe, Paris didn't just recently cancel a fancy wedding and maybe her mind wasn't busy with trying to figure out what to tell people."

She gets up on her elbow and meets his eyes. "What if I had never found the connection? What if I hadn't showed Paris the letter?"

He smirks. "If you wanted to, you would have, sooner or later."

"How could you be so sure I wouldn't just take one look at the letter, accept what was in it and then spend the rest of my life crying myself to sleep at night?"

"Because you're Rory Gilmore. If you didn't like the contents of the letter you would keep reading it and analyzing it until you found an angle or an analysis that satisfied you."

"But what if I'd found an angle or an analysis that didn't encourage me to come?"

"I knew that if you loved me, you'd search until you found one saying just that." He leans over and kisses her. "Or, if there were none, sooner or later you'd come marching in here telling me what a jerk I am for moving on without you."

She sighs and looks down at the sheets, her fingers playing with a wrinkle on them. "I was just so preoccupied with the 'I have moved on' part of the letter. I thought I had lost you."

"Well, that was kind of my point." He reaches his hand out and cups her face with it, making her meet his eyes again. "If you truly loved Logan, the same way I love you; you hadn't felt that way. If he was the only guy in your heart you would probably have felt a relief, knowing I wasn't heartbroken, pining for you, sinking into depression and eventually following Hemingway's footsteps to the grave."

She wrinkles her forehead. "Wasn't it a plane crash that drove Hemingway into depression?"

He grins, he should have known she would call him on that. "Two." He hesitates, but then decides to share his thoughts. "And…not that I actually ever been in a plane crash, but your rejection at Truncheon that night…Kind of felt like my heart was in a plane crash."

"I know the feeling." He looks at her curiously and she shrugs. "Well, I got that same feeling after reading your letter." She looks at him closely and bites her lip for a few seconds before continuing. "Would you really never have contacted me again if I hadn't come?"

"I would like to think I could have lived by my words and let you have your happily ever after with Logan." He sighs. "But we still would have seen each other at occasions and I'm guessing that at any sign, real or imagined, that you weren't 100% happy; I would have done something."

She leans over him and kisses him and he wraps his arms around her and pulls her down on top of him. She laughs.

"Why didn't we ever do this in high school?" She says as she runs her fingers through his hair.

He starts to smirk, but the smirk is turned into a moan when her lips find that special spot right beneath his ear. "Because your mother would have killed me?"

"Oh, that." Her lips slowly leave his skin and she gets up to face him and meets his eyes with a smile. "It might have been worth it."

He raises his eyebrows and smirks as he turns them both around in one swift move and pins her body down under his.

I have a question to ask you. I have at least one more chapter planned after this, but then I'm not sure what to do with this story. I haven't really planned any further than this. What do you think? Should I leave it like this, where they're happy and finally together, or do you want more?
If you want more – what is it you want? Fluffy and romantic stuff? Complications and bumps in the road? A little bit of everything?