I glare at the documents sitting before me in hopes that the thin pieces of paper will form brains and realize how much I hate them. And I do, with a deep, burning passion. Is there a stronger word for hate? Loathe? Despise? Yes, those fit into my feelings for this part of the job very well. I hate anything to do with numbers: I'm certainly no wiz kid; that would be Rory. (Mental note: ask Rory to look at books.)
But of course, while Sookie is slaving away in the kitchen trying to come up with a tasty new concoction to add to the already too long menu, I am stuck going over the books. Ugh, the books! How I hate you! There's a glitch somewhere--we messed up on something and I have been sitting here in Luke's diner for nearly two hours trying to spot it. But, after four and a half cups of coffee the error has remained undiscovered.
I hear the diner door open and the last couple leaves with filled stomachs. Filled stomachs...I think of mine, which has become rather empty. Maybe I should order dinner. A cheeseburger sounds really good right now. With fries. And another coffee. My mouth is watering as I visualize the warm meal being placed in front of me, but I shake the warm, fuzzy images from my head. If I were to order food it would require me to break my concentration on these books, and if I do that then I'll never get back into it. Must starve for sake of business.
Okay, so I've pushed the food to the back of my head...for now. Now...let's see...where was I? Oh yes: Friday, January 11^th....My eyelids grow heavy as I re-read that date over and over, trying to register it in my brain. No luck. The words grow fuzzy before my eyes, and as I force my eyelids open I rest my head on my hand that's propped against the table. A strand of my hair has fallen across my forehead, but I make no motion to tuck it behind me ear. My hand is surprisingly comfortable in a fleshy, clammy sort of way. The thought of being home with my pillow is too much: I close my eyes. I'm asleep instantly.
My overactive subconscious drifts to visions of Christopher. He's standing in the middle of an empty room. His arms are open, as though he is waiting for someone. I know it's me; I run towards him, but I realize someone is behind me. She gets to him first, and he wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace and pays no attention to me. I assume that this woman is Sheila or Shelly or Sherry or whatever her name is. I can't bear to look; I turn away and am surprised to see Luke standing a few feet away from me. He sees that I'm hurt and holds his arms out to me, just as Christopher was doing, and I slowly walk into his grasp. His arms curl around me and he holds me tight against his chest. He kisses the top of my head.
I feel fingertips brush against my forehead, removing that annoying strand of hair. My eyes open, and I glance up to see Luke standing above me with a half smile on his face. I quickly put my hand down, feeling the tiny indent my palm has made on my cheek, and sit up straight.
"You should get home and go to bed," Luke says, placing his cleaning rag on a table beside mine (because mine is full of clutter).
"I can't until I finish this," I say groggily. I clear my throat and grab for my coffee cup, only realizing it's empty when I bring it to my lips. I groan, and it's not until I place my cup down that I realize Luke has gone to get the coffee pot. Bless him.
"All this caffeine should be doing something for you," he says as he fills me up. "Besides yellowing your teeth."
"Well that's why I have whitening toothpaste," I remark as I take a long sip of my coffee. Ah, my glorious coffee, I love you so.
I watch as Luke shakes his head and I smile.
"Look...do you want some help or something?"
I'm surprised. "What?"
"I'm not so bad with numbers. It could go faster."
Although I am skeptical, I nod and angle the sheets so he can get a better view. Instead of taking the seat beside me, he moves behind me and looks over my shoulder. His knuckles brace the back of my chair, and I can feel them through the thin cotton of my shirt. I can feel his open plaid shirt resting on my back. This seemingly meaningless contact sends shivers through my body, although the next time they come it's worse. He leans closer to get a better look, and his chest presses against my back. His cologne, which I hadn't noticed before, now fills my nose. He doesn't use too much: just enough. His own rough, masculine scent combines with the cologne to create a rich, intoxicating scent. This time, as I shudder, my eyelids flutter.
I sit very still, afraid that any movement from me will cause him to move. I inhale deeply and capture his scent in my head and focus on the feel of his chest against my back and the feel of his hot breath against my neck, and the entire moment is so overwhelming that I almost moan.
"Did you just moan?" Luke asks, angling his head so he can see my face.
Uh oh. I did moan. "Um, no."
Luke's throaty laugh sends tingles down my spine. "You moaned."
"I did not." I turn to look at him. Our faces are inches apart.
"Oh yes you did. You're just fantasizing about ravishing my sexy body." He says this with his deadpan voice and a smirk so I will know he is joking, although I don't take it as a joke. I imagine ripping off his plaid shirt and throwing off his t-shirt, pushing him onto the couch and having my way with him.
These thoughts not only create a familiar heat between my legs but send a blush over my face. I look back down at the papers, hoping he hasn't noticed. Only I know he has; Luke doesn't miss a thing.
There is an uncomfortable silence hanging between us. The tension (sexual?) is so thick that I could easily cut it with a knife. Luke clears his throat, and he sits down in the chair. The cool air hits my back where he was just standing and my body cries out for him to touch me again.
What am I doing? This is Luke; I'm not supposed to be having these feelings for him. Everything has always been so platonic and fine between us. Thinking this way would only ruin things. And I don't want to ruin my relationship with Luke.
Luke pulls the papers closer to him and scans several pages until he finally points to a certain area. "There's your mistake."
I am so surprised by his voice filling the silent void that I snap my head in his direction.
"What?" I ask.
"Your mistake...right here, under December 3^rd." He taps his finger on the paper.
I push my chair closer to his to get a better look instead of taking the papers back from him. Sure enough, right above his fingernail, is my error. I slap my forehead, feeling the light sting of skin on skin, and smile. That's it. The mistake has been located. It's so obvious, I can't believe I didn't find it on my own. I've been sitting here for hours and couldn't find it, but Luke comes over to take a peak and finds it instantly.
Joy and excitement well up inside of me, and I cannot find the words to express my thanks to Luke. Instead, without thinking, I do the only thing that comes to mind: I lean in to kiss him on his rough cheek. My idea of a platonic thank you changes instantly, throwing us both completely off track. He is looking down at the papers, and as I move in to kiss him he turns and looks at me. My lips meet his instantly.
Neither of us pulls away. At first it's an awkward, lingering feeling, but as each of us relax we get more into it. I close my eyes and allow my lips to do the work: I push deeply into him, my hands cupping his unshaven face. His hands cautiously reach for my waist, as though he is afraid to touch me, but the tension wears off and he wraps his arms around me.
The feeling that overcomes me is one of the most incredible feelings I've ever felt. The heat from his hands burns though my shirt and the feel of his lips crushing against mine nearly sends my body into a sensory overload. His thumbs knead my back in small circles as my hands travel farther around his neck. I knock off his baseball cap and run my fingers through his silky brown hair, surprised with how smooth it is.
I decide to kick it up a notch and run my tongue across his lower lip. He moans into my mouth and parts his lips to meet my tongue with his own. He massages my tongue with his own slowly, allowing us both to drink in the moment that we are creating. Neither of us is in any rush.
Our tongues dance to the rhythm of our heavy breathing and the rapid beating of our hearts. As I contemplate moving onto his lap to become even closer to him, I am snapped inevitably back to reality.
The diner door opens, the bell signaling the arrival of a customer. I quickly pull away from Luke, twisting myself free from his grasp. I stare down at the table as Luke turns to the person who has just entered.
"We're closed," he says roughly.
There is no reply from whoever has come in; they leave as quietly as they entered. I can't even bring myself to look up to see who stopped us from doing...whatever we were about to do.
I shake my head in disbelief, regretting instantly what I've just done. I kissed Luke. I kissed one of my best friends. I've just ruined the best platonic relationships I've ever had.
Quickly I gather all of the papers that are scattered over the table. I pile them together and throw them into the folder I carry them in and then reach for my purse. I pull out a few crumpled bills and toss them on the table to cover the cost of all the coffee.
"Lorelai, what are you doing?"
"I have to go," I say, standing up. I try to push past him but he stands and blocks my way.
"Don't walk away from this."
"I really have to go, Luke." I walk around the table in effort to get away from him but it's no use: he steps in front of the door.
"Luke, please."
"Don't run away from this, Lorelai."
"Who's running? I'm not running. I'm walking very calmly, now please, let me walk very calmly to my car so I can drive very calmly home."
"You are going to deny that this ever happened, aren't you?"
"Luke--"
"No, Lorelai. We've been heading here for a long time, only you've been too blind to see it. And then you kiss me like that and expect me just to forget it? I won't do that."
I feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes. "We shouldn't have done this, we're friends."
Luke sighs, and I can tell that he is angry.
"I'm sorry I kissed you. It was a mistake."
I take this moment while he is stunned into silence to push past him and walk out the door. The thought of him standing in the doorway, watching me leave breaks my heart. I know I've hurt him, but I can't turn back now. A tear falls down my cheek and settles on my lip, and I use my tongue to clear the salty droplet away. I can still taste Luke on my lips, and I begin to cry even harder as I walk towards my car. As I reach out to grab the handle, I hear his voice calling out me. He speaks loudly, not attempting to lower his voice to keep the entire town of Stars Hollow from listening.
He says something to me that shocks me to the point where I cannot move. My heart begins beating faster as it melts into a small puddle within my chest.
I turn to face him, not wiping away my tears, and he repeats the three words again.
The End
Well...What do you think? I'm thinking about doing a sequel....only if I get good feedback. Please let me know what you think, and if there should be a sequel!
But of course, while Sookie is slaving away in the kitchen trying to come up with a tasty new concoction to add to the already too long menu, I am stuck going over the books. Ugh, the books! How I hate you! There's a glitch somewhere--we messed up on something and I have been sitting here in Luke's diner for nearly two hours trying to spot it. But, after four and a half cups of coffee the error has remained undiscovered.
I hear the diner door open and the last couple leaves with filled stomachs. Filled stomachs...I think of mine, which has become rather empty. Maybe I should order dinner. A cheeseburger sounds really good right now. With fries. And another coffee. My mouth is watering as I visualize the warm meal being placed in front of me, but I shake the warm, fuzzy images from my head. If I were to order food it would require me to break my concentration on these books, and if I do that then I'll never get back into it. Must starve for sake of business.
Okay, so I've pushed the food to the back of my head...for now. Now...let's see...where was I? Oh yes: Friday, January 11^th....My eyelids grow heavy as I re-read that date over and over, trying to register it in my brain. No luck. The words grow fuzzy before my eyes, and as I force my eyelids open I rest my head on my hand that's propped against the table. A strand of my hair has fallen across my forehead, but I make no motion to tuck it behind me ear. My hand is surprisingly comfortable in a fleshy, clammy sort of way. The thought of being home with my pillow is too much: I close my eyes. I'm asleep instantly.
My overactive subconscious drifts to visions of Christopher. He's standing in the middle of an empty room. His arms are open, as though he is waiting for someone. I know it's me; I run towards him, but I realize someone is behind me. She gets to him first, and he wraps his arms around her in a tight embrace and pays no attention to me. I assume that this woman is Sheila or Shelly or Sherry or whatever her name is. I can't bear to look; I turn away and am surprised to see Luke standing a few feet away from me. He sees that I'm hurt and holds his arms out to me, just as Christopher was doing, and I slowly walk into his grasp. His arms curl around me and he holds me tight against his chest. He kisses the top of my head.
I feel fingertips brush against my forehead, removing that annoying strand of hair. My eyes open, and I glance up to see Luke standing above me with a half smile on his face. I quickly put my hand down, feeling the tiny indent my palm has made on my cheek, and sit up straight.
"You should get home and go to bed," Luke says, placing his cleaning rag on a table beside mine (because mine is full of clutter).
"I can't until I finish this," I say groggily. I clear my throat and grab for my coffee cup, only realizing it's empty when I bring it to my lips. I groan, and it's not until I place my cup down that I realize Luke has gone to get the coffee pot. Bless him.
"All this caffeine should be doing something for you," he says as he fills me up. "Besides yellowing your teeth."
"Well that's why I have whitening toothpaste," I remark as I take a long sip of my coffee. Ah, my glorious coffee, I love you so.
I watch as Luke shakes his head and I smile.
"Look...do you want some help or something?"
I'm surprised. "What?"
"I'm not so bad with numbers. It could go faster."
Although I am skeptical, I nod and angle the sheets so he can get a better view. Instead of taking the seat beside me, he moves behind me and looks over my shoulder. His knuckles brace the back of my chair, and I can feel them through the thin cotton of my shirt. I can feel his open plaid shirt resting on my back. This seemingly meaningless contact sends shivers through my body, although the next time they come it's worse. He leans closer to get a better look, and his chest presses against my back. His cologne, which I hadn't noticed before, now fills my nose. He doesn't use too much: just enough. His own rough, masculine scent combines with the cologne to create a rich, intoxicating scent. This time, as I shudder, my eyelids flutter.
I sit very still, afraid that any movement from me will cause him to move. I inhale deeply and capture his scent in my head and focus on the feel of his chest against my back and the feel of his hot breath against my neck, and the entire moment is so overwhelming that I almost moan.
"Did you just moan?" Luke asks, angling his head so he can see my face.
Uh oh. I did moan. "Um, no."
Luke's throaty laugh sends tingles down my spine. "You moaned."
"I did not." I turn to look at him. Our faces are inches apart.
"Oh yes you did. You're just fantasizing about ravishing my sexy body." He says this with his deadpan voice and a smirk so I will know he is joking, although I don't take it as a joke. I imagine ripping off his plaid shirt and throwing off his t-shirt, pushing him onto the couch and having my way with him.
These thoughts not only create a familiar heat between my legs but send a blush over my face. I look back down at the papers, hoping he hasn't noticed. Only I know he has; Luke doesn't miss a thing.
There is an uncomfortable silence hanging between us. The tension (sexual?) is so thick that I could easily cut it with a knife. Luke clears his throat, and he sits down in the chair. The cool air hits my back where he was just standing and my body cries out for him to touch me again.
What am I doing? This is Luke; I'm not supposed to be having these feelings for him. Everything has always been so platonic and fine between us. Thinking this way would only ruin things. And I don't want to ruin my relationship with Luke.
Luke pulls the papers closer to him and scans several pages until he finally points to a certain area. "There's your mistake."
I am so surprised by his voice filling the silent void that I snap my head in his direction.
"What?" I ask.
"Your mistake...right here, under December 3^rd." He taps his finger on the paper.
I push my chair closer to his to get a better look instead of taking the papers back from him. Sure enough, right above his fingernail, is my error. I slap my forehead, feeling the light sting of skin on skin, and smile. That's it. The mistake has been located. It's so obvious, I can't believe I didn't find it on my own. I've been sitting here for hours and couldn't find it, but Luke comes over to take a peak and finds it instantly.
Joy and excitement well up inside of me, and I cannot find the words to express my thanks to Luke. Instead, without thinking, I do the only thing that comes to mind: I lean in to kiss him on his rough cheek. My idea of a platonic thank you changes instantly, throwing us both completely off track. He is looking down at the papers, and as I move in to kiss him he turns and looks at me. My lips meet his instantly.
Neither of us pulls away. At first it's an awkward, lingering feeling, but as each of us relax we get more into it. I close my eyes and allow my lips to do the work: I push deeply into him, my hands cupping his unshaven face. His hands cautiously reach for my waist, as though he is afraid to touch me, but the tension wears off and he wraps his arms around me.
The feeling that overcomes me is one of the most incredible feelings I've ever felt. The heat from his hands burns though my shirt and the feel of his lips crushing against mine nearly sends my body into a sensory overload. His thumbs knead my back in small circles as my hands travel farther around his neck. I knock off his baseball cap and run my fingers through his silky brown hair, surprised with how smooth it is.
I decide to kick it up a notch and run my tongue across his lower lip. He moans into my mouth and parts his lips to meet my tongue with his own. He massages my tongue with his own slowly, allowing us both to drink in the moment that we are creating. Neither of us is in any rush.
Our tongues dance to the rhythm of our heavy breathing and the rapid beating of our hearts. As I contemplate moving onto his lap to become even closer to him, I am snapped inevitably back to reality.
The diner door opens, the bell signaling the arrival of a customer. I quickly pull away from Luke, twisting myself free from his grasp. I stare down at the table as Luke turns to the person who has just entered.
"We're closed," he says roughly.
There is no reply from whoever has come in; they leave as quietly as they entered. I can't even bring myself to look up to see who stopped us from doing...whatever we were about to do.
I shake my head in disbelief, regretting instantly what I've just done. I kissed Luke. I kissed one of my best friends. I've just ruined the best platonic relationships I've ever had.
Quickly I gather all of the papers that are scattered over the table. I pile them together and throw them into the folder I carry them in and then reach for my purse. I pull out a few crumpled bills and toss them on the table to cover the cost of all the coffee.
"Lorelai, what are you doing?"
"I have to go," I say, standing up. I try to push past him but he stands and blocks my way.
"Don't walk away from this."
"I really have to go, Luke." I walk around the table in effort to get away from him but it's no use: he steps in front of the door.
"Luke, please."
"Don't run away from this, Lorelai."
"Who's running? I'm not running. I'm walking very calmly, now please, let me walk very calmly to my car so I can drive very calmly home."
"You are going to deny that this ever happened, aren't you?"
"Luke--"
"No, Lorelai. We've been heading here for a long time, only you've been too blind to see it. And then you kiss me like that and expect me just to forget it? I won't do that."
I feel the tears begin to well up in my eyes. "We shouldn't have done this, we're friends."
Luke sighs, and I can tell that he is angry.
"I'm sorry I kissed you. It was a mistake."
I take this moment while he is stunned into silence to push past him and walk out the door. The thought of him standing in the doorway, watching me leave breaks my heart. I know I've hurt him, but I can't turn back now. A tear falls down my cheek and settles on my lip, and I use my tongue to clear the salty droplet away. I can still taste Luke on my lips, and I begin to cry even harder as I walk towards my car. As I reach out to grab the handle, I hear his voice calling out me. He speaks loudly, not attempting to lower his voice to keep the entire town of Stars Hollow from listening.
He says something to me that shocks me to the point where I cannot move. My heart begins beating faster as it melts into a small puddle within my chest.
I turn to face him, not wiping away my tears, and he repeats the three words again.
The End
Well...What do you think? I'm thinking about doing a sequel....only if I get good feedback. Please let me know what you think, and if there should be a sequel!