Disclaimer: All Gilmore Girls content belongs to Amy Sherman-Palladino.

Chapter Nineteen: Pretty Gertrude Stein

A cozy, aged smell filled the bookstore, aisles lined tightly with weathered pages. Ella ran a finger along the ancient, dusty spines. She didn't have a massive budget, exactly, but they'd stopped in partially because of the Edgar Allen Poe decorations. The author's fan society had begun rolling into town the day before, and all the Stars Hollow businesses were taking advantage of the possibility for sales, the bookstore only one of many. Sighing heavily, she pursed her lips and decided she should move on to the next shelf. There, she found Jess with a couple dystopian novels in his hands. Brave New World, Fahrenheit 451. He was on a masochistic kick, as always, but instead of heartbreak it was now the fate of the world.

"I'll have to give you The Handmaid's Tale next. Probably scarier than both of those combined," she said, gesturing to the books in his hands as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Jess shrugged. "Not everyone reads things for the terror factor, Morticia."

"Well, not everyone can handle it," she quipped, smirking.

He chuckled, then turned away from the various volumes and held the books to his chest. "You ready to go?"

Ella nodded.

"Really? Not even the Poes are striking your fancy?" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her empty hands as they made their way to Andrew at the register.

"Trying to save up. Textbooks and whatnot."

"Very wise of you, college girl," he said, nodding at Andrew as he put his choices on the desk.

She breathed a sigh through her nose. "Besides, master of horror or not, Poe was still a creep who married his thirteen-year-old cousin."

"Fair enough," Jess agreed, digging in the pocket of his jeans for some crumpled dollar bills.

"But, when you consider the time period-" Andrew began as he placed Jess's books in a paper bag, but Ella immediately cut him off and raised a hand.

"His wife was a child who was a victim of oppressive patriarchal norms. I'm not even entertaining this conversation, Andrew. Good luck with the crazies this weekend," she said, bidding him goodbye as soon as Jess had the bag in his right hand, grabbing his left and leading him towards the door.

Jess smirked proudly at her as they exited the store into the April evening. Squeezing her hand, he pressed a kiss to her cheek. The air was still slightly warm from the sunny afternoon, even as the pinkish evening came. Ella breathed in the night and glanced over at the town square. The gazebo was empty below the twinkling lights. She and Jess were set to study for the evening, with Jimi Hendrix on the record player. Though they both were aware the night would probably end in distraction.

"You wanna hang out tomorrow?" she asked. "We could go to the movies or something? Or we could watch those fake Poes butcher 'The Raven' at Patty's?"

Jess shrugged. "Actually, I've gotta go to Shangri-la."

"Really?" she asked, eyebrows furrowing. "I thought they didn't schedule you for Saturdays anymore?"

"The exception that proves the rule."

Snickering, she stopped walking and turned to face him with a smirk. "If you're mixed up in something, you can just go ahead and tell me, Scarface."

He rolled his eyes. "Very funny, Daria. I just…"

"What?" she asked, face falling into a frown of concern.

Heaving a sigh, he finally locked eyes with her again. "I'm employee of the month and I get two hundred dollars for going to this stupid ceremony."

A wide smile blossomed on her face, and she stood on her tiptoes to kiss him, hands winding into his hair. Jess paused in surprise for a moment, then sunk into the moment with her. His skin tingled beneath her fingers, and he felt her lips turned upwards against his own. Pleasant giggles bubbled from her lips as they separated, though she kept her palms on his shoulders.

"That's great, Jess."

He shook his head humbly. "It's not a big deal. I'm only going so I can get the money."

"I'm serious, Mariano. I'm really proud of you," Ella said earnestly.

"Thanks," he replied quietly, cheeks tinted pink, gaze cast downwards.

"You're welcome. You're the fucking best."

She planted one last peck to his lips before grabbing his hand again. There was a moment of comfortable silence before she nudged him playfully with an elbow.

"So, what time's the ceremony tomorrow?" she asked.

Narrowing his eyes at her, he shook his head slightly. "No way."

"C'mon, James Dean! I'll sit in the back."

Sighing again, he rolled his eyes. "Fine. If you promise not to bring ridiculous balloons like you did for Rory's birthday."

She scoffed. "Of course not."

"You gotta promise."

"I promise. Cross my heart," she said, kissing his cheek.

. . .

Three knocks sounded on the door, and Jess finally pulled himself away from the Twilight Zone episode on the TV near the kitchen table. The Sunday afternoon crowd chattered in a monotone hum down below, and the smell of burgers filled the apartment. Sighing, he ran a hand through his ungelled hair and trudged over to the entrance. A small look of surprise crossed his face when he saw Ella, in a faded green dress and her battered converse, hair falling loose around her face. He hadn't seen her since the ceremony the previous day, after which he had picked up a shift. Luckily, she had sat quietly in the back, alongside Luke. She'd had time to give him a quick peck on the lips in congratulations before he had to go move stock.

He couldn't help but be rendered silent when she told him how proud she was. It made nauseous butterflies rise in his stomach and up his throat, and a blush spread on his face. Often the way she made him feel was new and pleasant, but when she praised him it was undoubtedly an uncomfortable feeling. So foreign he couldn't decide whether it was positive.

"Hey, Mariano," she greeted him, nodding slightly. "Do you have a vase?"

"What?"

She shrugged, smirking. "Well, I got you these flowers," she said, bringing a bouquet of red roses from behind her back, "but I'm concerned now that you won't have a vase."

He couldn't help the doubtful laugh which escaped his lips. "You...got me flowers?"

Ella sighed through her nose, then brushed past him into the apartment, placing the flowers on the table and searching through the cabinets. Standing on her tiptoes, Jess watched her dress rise up, her legs in full view. He bit at his lip, brows furrowed as he tried to make sense of the situation.

"Since I promised no fanfare at the ceremony yesterday, I thought I'd give you something today. And I know you have a hatred of balloons, so flowers seemed like a natural option. But now that I'm here I'm worried about the vase situation. I certainly can't take these flowers back to my house; they'll die within a day! I mean, why do you think I only have cacti? I can't keep anything else alive!"

Jess, eyebrows raised, nodded along with her rambling, amusement growing on his face. His hands were shoved in his pockets. Eventually, Ella gave a frustrated huff, crease between her brows, and took a beer stein from the cabinet near the sink. She filled it with tap water and placed it down on the table, wiping her hands on her dress and tucking her hair behind her ears before going to work on the bouquet.

"Can I have some scissors?" she asked suddenly, locking eyes with him again.

"Oh...yeah," he said, grabbing some from his desk. After handing them to her, he leaned against a kitchen chair on his palms.

Ella found her eyes flicking up to the TV a few times as she cut the bouquet open and trimmed the stems of the roses diagonally. A dying man dealt masks out to his family, which would end up disfiguring them all in the end. "I love this episode."

"You like all the macabre ones."

"But of course," she said, smiling over at him for a moment.

"I can't believe you got me roses," he said slowly, a smirk still present.

She shrugged. "Why not? I mean, it's no two hundred bucks, but I just...thought you deserved them. A rose is a rose is a rose."

"Huh."

"And I didn't go full Lloyd Dobbler with the boombox outside your window, so you're welcome."

He chuckled breathily. "Thank you."

After arranging them to her liking, Ella stepped back and regarded the stein. When she decided it was good enough, she balled up the crinkly clear plastic the bouquet had been wrapped in and threw it away.

"Pretty Gertrude Stein of you, Stevens," he said, still slightly flabbergasted at her move.

Again, she shrugged, hands on her hips. "A little saccharine, but it seemed fitting. And I got you the bouquet with thirteen instead of twelve. My mom always said those were lucky."

"But you don't believe in luck."

"No, but I think it's good to cover all your bases."

A full smile broke out on his face, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, bringing her in for a long kiss. Pulling away from her, Jess kept his smile. "And you say I'm the romantic."

Ella rolled her eyes at him. "If I bought you all the bouquets in the world, it still wouldn't match your love of Hemingway. The bigger Hemingway fan is always the bigger romantic. It's a universal law."

"I disagree wholeheartedly."

"Of course you do."

"But thank you," he added quietly.

"You're welcome," she replied.

. . .

The Replacements played over the boombox, Ella on the end of the bed and Jess leaned up against the wall at the head. Golden, dusky light streamed in through the windows of the apartment. Ella's history textbook sat open in front of her crossed legs, as she scribbled on a notebook in her lap. Biting at her thumb nail, she glanced up at Jess. He wrote something in the margin of his Huxley novel, already nearly finished. It made her want to roll her eyes; she could never even come close to matching his reading speed. A long afternoon of making out with The Twilight Zone as background noise had bled into an evening of studying. Ella almost always had various homework in her bag, in case of a random study session at Luke's corner table.

"Jess?"

"Hm?" he asked, eyes still on the words.

Hesitating for a moment, she put down her pencil and ran her fingers through the ends of her hair. "Are you...going to school?"

Brows furrowed, he marked the place in his book and tilted his head at her. "What kind of a question is that?"

She sighed, trying to formulate the right words. "Just...we don't have any classes together and I'm always in the art room during lunch. Your manager mentioned something about you working forty-five hours a week yesterday...and you're always so tired."

"Jeez, Big Brother," he snapped. "Need my alibi for a specific date and time?"

She scoffed, doubling down. "Fuck, Jess, I just wanna make sure you're not working too much. I mean, if you don't graduate, you can't stay with Luke anymore."

"I'm aware."

"I'm glad," she shot back. "Forgive me for not wanting my boyfriend to end up homeless!"

"I've got it under control."

Nodding doubtfully, she sighed again. "Fine. But if you need help or-"

"Stop it, Eleanor. I don't need you to worry. I don't need your help. I think I can handle my cursive practice and my arithmetic," he deadpanned. "If I need help, Mickey Mouse Clubhouse will be a satisfactory supplement."

Her jaw tensed and she bit the inside of her cheek. Then, so quickly Jess could barely even register what was happening, she was packing up her stuff and over by the door, tugging on her shoes.

"You can be such a dick sometimes," she said, shaking her head to herself.

"Taking your dramatic exit now, Norma Jennings?" he asked, his voice dripping with angry sarcasm.

Licking her lips, she tucked her hair behind her ears in frustration. "Maybe I'll go to the library and study, so I can graduate and get outta this town someday. And not think about how all the work I've done the past four years is some joke to you. Holden fucking Caulfield."

"Elle, I didn't mean it that way," he sighed, getting up from the bed, ready to run after her if necessary.

She crossed her arms over her chest. "Then how'd you mean it?"

He ran a hand through his hair. "I just...I'm doing fine! If I need to catch up, I will. All I need to do is pass! You can stop worrying!"

"You can't stop me from worrying, Jess! It's what I do!" she insisted, gesturing wildly with her hands. "If Luke kicks you out, what are you gonna do?"

"He won't kick me out!" he replied, voice raised. "I've got school under control. So I take a few shifts, who cares? It's not your problem!"

"I just…" she began uneasily, shaking her head. "You would tell me? If you were falling behind?"

"Yes."

She arched an eyebrow at him, still obviously annoyed. "Really? If you were one step from not graduating, you would actually tell me and let me help you?"

Jess rolled his eyes. "My god, you're like a broken record! I would tell you!"

"I don't believe you."

"Why does graduation have to be such a big deal, anyway?"

"Because it is!" she shouted back. "I know you don't like it, but if you don't graduate, you won't have a place to live! Why can't you just grow up and realize it?"

Brows furrowing, Jess took a step back at the accusation. "What? Grow up like you? End up getting some bullshit job I don't even like so that maybe, someday, I'll end up where I wanna be?"

Ella scoffed. "At least I have a plan! At least I can actually handle thinking about the future! I mean, Jesus, Jess, bad things happen and you deal with them! You don't just avoid them, and run away, and wait for them to solve themselves!"

"Getting to be valedictorian doesn't make all your problems go away, Eleanor! They're still here, in that house you never wanna go home to, where you're trapping yourself for the next four years! I hate to break it to you, but no amount of sad music is gonna change that!"

Biting the inside of her cheek again, she looked down at her shoes. A charged silence hung in the air before she looked back up at him with fiery eyes, though full of sincerity. "You really wanna get kicked out of here? Fine. Fuck it! But, God, Jess, why can't you just talk to me? Tell me the truth? What are you so afraid of?"

Heaving a sigh, Jess tried to come up with something to say. He ran a hand over his mouth, searching his mind for an answer, a witty retort, an accusation to deflect from the core problem, but nothing came. A blank drew in his mind; he was speechless, looking back at her expectant gaze.

When she realized he was done with the argument, shutting her out completely, she gave one last roll of her eyes. Her shoes were still untied as she left the apartment, bounding down the stairs. Jess waited for a moment, pondered going after her, but didn't. If she hadn't let that last question slip out of her mouth, he would have. He would have run after her down the street, found a way to convince her he knew what he was doing, he was sure of it. But he knew then that he couldn't fool her. She could see right through him. Instead, he switched the music to some angry screamo, cranking the speakers up as far as they would go. He flopped down onto his bed, bringing the pillow over his head to block out the world, focusing only on the ear-bleeding music. The stein of roses sat alone on the kitchen table, stagnant and unchanging in the unhappy air.

. . .

Notes of "Für Elise" drifted from the dance studio out into the town square. Ella could hear it, making her feel nostalgic, as she sat reading Dorothy Parker in the gazebo. The Poe society packed the diner, having been forced to leave the Independence Inn after a fire the night before. Though she had tried more than once to get behind the counter, Luke told Ella it was already too crowded with Sookie having taken over the kitchen and brought the inn employees. She'd already done all her homework, in preparation for an evening of work, so her forced freedom was proving difficult to fill.

After a couple hours of sketching angrily in her room, Stevie Nicks on the record player, she decided she was too moody to face Fiona. Her stepmother was humming country music in the kitchen, making her tuna salad. Usually, she could stomach the small talk. But as she was still fuming about Jess beneath an outer layer of indifference, it was ultimately too dangerous. She didn't need to add another screaming match to her recent hits. The night fell chilly as dinner time approached, but the twinkling lights offered enough, so she could still see the words on the page. Even if Fiona was upset she didn't show up for the awkward, sit-down meal, Ella knew her father didn't care. It would be easier to deal with.

The soft music floated around her, Mrs. Rothschild apparently taking advantage of the Poe crowd off for dinner to practice in solitude. Ella thought of the piano bench, the girl with the short red hair and vibrant blue eyes, who now danced on some stage in New York City, tuition paid with family money. Before meeting Veronica, Ella had known she found both men and women beautiful. After all, her first fictional crushes were a tie between Kevin and Winnie from The Wonder Years.

But she hadn't thought of kissing Veronica before it happened, and when it did, she felt some piece of her heart falling into place. Even Rory and Lane didn't know she was bisexual (a word she hadn't known before reading it in a biography about Virginia Woolf). She wasn't exactly scared of backlash, or open criticism. But she knew Stars Hollow well. She knew there were lingering eyes and judgmental whispers. She had decided it would be easier to label herself when she got away, got to a city where she could be whoever she wanted. Sometimes she wondered if she felt so out of place in her hometown more because of her mother, or because there was a part of her she couldn't fully embrace there. If anyone asked, she would tell them, but no one ever thought to ask. She wasn't ashamed, but she certainly wasn't forthcoming.

Only Jess knew that part of her. Her mind wandered to the night she'd played "Rhiannon" for him, the way she'd decided on a whim to tell him the truth about her first kiss. For some reason, with Jess, it was easy. It was comfortable. She'd never met anyone who understood her the way he did, who knew what it was like to be out of place, to feel like there was something missing. No matter how much she loved Rory or Lane, or even Lorelai, she knew they wouldn't quite get it. But Jess did. Jess always did. Breathing out a sigh, she tried to swallow down her thoughts of him and concentrate on the poetry in front of her instead.

Fiddling absently with her necklace, she tucked her legs underneath her and wished she had brought more than just her jean jacket.

"You'll catch a cold if you stay out here too long, Stevens," Jess drawled at her side, stepping up into the gazebo with an unreadable expression.

Startling slightly, Ella looked up from her book with a scowl. "You have no concept of weather, but thanks for the concern. It's duly noted."

"Anytime," he said, taking a seat next to her, leaving a careful distance between them. They both stared ahead, into the bustling diner.

"Pretty chaotic in there, huh?"

He nodded. "Luke kicked me out."

"And Lorelai slept in the apartment last night, right?" Ella asked dryly.

"Yeah."

Uttering a quiet scoff, Ella shot him a momentary look. "Now the whole town's gonna know you snore."

"Avoided the press as long as I could."

Ella quietly hummed in acknowledgement, nodding. An unusual awkwardness filled the space between them, and it took Jess a long moment before he mustered the courage to venture a look over at her. Her hair, pulled back messily, glinted with gold beneath the lights. Arms crossed over her patterned dress, she looked chilly and defensive. He could feel words choking his throat, but he swallowed them down and turned back to the diner.

"Are you gonna talk, or can I keep reading?" Ella asked, having felt him staring and fidgeting.

Blowing out a long sigh, he rubbed at his mouth. "I understand what you said."

"Good," she said shortly.

He chewed his bottom lip, brows furrowing in frustration. "I just...I can handle it. And I'm sorry for what I said."

"Okay. I'm sorry too," she replied half-heartedly. As much as she wanted to lose the tension in her shoulders, to let the topic drop, she couldn't find it within herself. "Look, I'm not trying to...you're eighteen, you can make your own choices, whatever. But I care about you and I want you to, one: have a place to live, and two: be able to have money. You and I both know how much it fucking sucks to not have money."

"I do have money. I get it from working the way I do," he argued.

Ella nodded slowly. "I know. Just...I want you to have everything you need. To write your novel and do whatever else, y'know? And I'm gonna worry, no matter what."

"Believe me, I know," Jess said, cracking a tiny smirk. Words from Lorelai echoed in his mind, and he gave a hesitant shrug. "But I know what I'm doing. You just have to trust me."

She offered a small smile back. "Okay, I'll try."

"I'll try too," he said, bringing an arm around her shoulders. "And I want you to have everything you need, Stevens. Some studio with very organized art supplies and horror-movie-caliber sketches."

"Sounds perfect."

"It will be. I really am sorry," Jess said. "But I want your someday to not just be a someday."

"I know," she sighed, bringing her head to his shoulder. "I'm really sorry, too, Jess."

"Glad we sorted that out then," he replied, pressing a kiss to her hair.

Ella cleared her throat and nodded against him. She leaned into him, warmer with his closeness. "Me too."

Running his fingers gently up and down her arm, Jess took a deep breath and felt his heart relax.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading! Please let me know what you thought! Feedback is greatly appreciated!

Eennio: Thank you for reading and commenting! As angsty as Jess is, I have to focus on the sweet side sometimes :) I hope you liked this chapter as well!