Maybe he really wasn't coming. It was a sudden outburst of heartfelt emotion. She left her heart on her sleeve, and the consequences were
starting to build. Was it really too late? Maybe she was too forward. Maybe she could think of something better to do than watch the clock tick
then tock, pause, then tick and tock again. She couldn't help it. She left herself out there, vulnerable to anything. Worst of all, vulnerable to him.
It was the most likely the worst situation she could have gotten herself into. Being stuck in a closet with Paris for twenty-four hours seemed
almost more bearable than this. Almost.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Maybe he should go. She did seem like she wanted him to. He shouldn't though, he couldn't. She was vuulnerable; too innocent for him, too
anything for him. She was too enriching, too intelligent, too beautiful, too much. He was never this out of control, never felt like everything wasn't
under his watchful eye. She made him want to feel. Feel these new rushes that were almost exciting, almost exhiliarting, almost...
and he was so close to feeling...
vulnerable. Like her. So close to feeling new, clean, open. People who wore their hearts on their sleeves left themselves open for too many
things. Too much pain, too much emotion, too much of everything. Whatever wasn't checked would come back to kick him in his ass. She
certainly wasn't checked, and was beyond expected. She was, no is, so exotic. She's like forbidden fruit. So close yet so far. There are always
consequences and she's one of them. A consequence for possible currents of emotion. A consequence he almost wants. Almost...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later That Night
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's really late. She should really be getting to sleep, but she couldn't. She figured he wasn't coming, now all she had to do was figure out why.
She could have sworn he was interested. There was what happened that night. She can't even remember what day it was. It was just that night.
No date, no time, and that was the way she liked it. It was obscure. Mysterious. Theirs, and she wouldn't want it any other way.
What could have gone wrong? Maybe he was using her, very reminiscent of a past "bad boy"; but she swore that he was different. Who, Tristan
or Jess? She wasn't sure, but that wasn't the matter at hand. It was why Jess hadn't come. She never did anything reproachful after that night, so
why didn't he come?! This is ridiculous. Rory shouldn't be blaming herself. It was all his fault, she gave him the heads up about tonight and he
didn't take the initiative like she did. It wasn't her fault, whatsoever. It was all his fault, all his fault and she didn't need trouble like that in her life.
Definitely not, but she couldn't help but wonder where he could be, what he was doing, and whether he was thinking about her.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He was standing right outside of her window. It doesn't take a genius to know which window belonged to whom. He'd been the house a few
times now and knew where to go. It had been ages since he'd been in her room. Ages meaning a few weeks, but a few weeks too long. She
could probably care less about why or why he didn't come. He had been debating it all night, and when he finally decided no agreed with himself
she was beyond worth it. She might make this town an ok place. Definitely not to live, but if she was here, it would be ok. He was sure of that.
He left hours ago, but he was scrounging around this crappy town for a gift. An I'm-sorry-for-not-coming-earlier-please-love-me sort of gift. Not
as needy as he wanted to sound, but it was an accurate depiction of what he wanted it to say. He knew she would love it because her
innocence was predictable yet she was enthralling, and it was just something she would smile about. He wondered when Dean gave her that
bracelet. He wondered if she'll compare them. He wondered when he became such a lovelorn idiot, asking himself questions and doubting his
own actions.
starting to build. Was it really too late? Maybe she was too forward. Maybe she could think of something better to do than watch the clock tick
then tock, pause, then tick and tock again. She couldn't help it. She left herself out there, vulnerable to anything. Worst of all, vulnerable to him.
It was the most likely the worst situation she could have gotten herself into. Being stuck in a closet with Paris for twenty-four hours seemed
almost more bearable than this. Almost.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Maybe he should go. She did seem like she wanted him to. He shouldn't though, he couldn't. She was vuulnerable; too innocent for him, too
anything for him. She was too enriching, too intelligent, too beautiful, too much. He was never this out of control, never felt like everything wasn't
under his watchful eye. She made him want to feel. Feel these new rushes that were almost exciting, almost exhiliarting, almost...
and he was so close to feeling...
vulnerable. Like her. So close to feeling new, clean, open. People who wore their hearts on their sleeves left themselves open for too many
things. Too much pain, too much emotion, too much of everything. Whatever wasn't checked would come back to kick him in his ass. She
certainly wasn't checked, and was beyond expected. She was, no is, so exotic. She's like forbidden fruit. So close yet so far. There are always
consequences and she's one of them. A consequence for possible currents of emotion. A consequence he almost wants. Almost...
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Later That Night
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It's really late. She should really be getting to sleep, but she couldn't. She figured he wasn't coming, now all she had to do was figure out why.
She could have sworn he was interested. There was what happened that night. She can't even remember what day it was. It was just that night.
No date, no time, and that was the way she liked it. It was obscure. Mysterious. Theirs, and she wouldn't want it any other way.
What could have gone wrong? Maybe he was using her, very reminiscent of a past "bad boy"; but she swore that he was different. Who, Tristan
or Jess? She wasn't sure, but that wasn't the matter at hand. It was why Jess hadn't come. She never did anything reproachful after that night, so
why didn't he come?! This is ridiculous. Rory shouldn't be blaming herself. It was all his fault, she gave him the heads up about tonight and he
didn't take the initiative like she did. It wasn't her fault, whatsoever. It was all his fault, all his fault and she didn't need trouble like that in her life.
Definitely not, but she couldn't help but wonder where he could be, what he was doing, and whether he was thinking about her.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
He was standing right outside of her window. It doesn't take a genius to know which window belonged to whom. He'd been the house a few
times now and knew where to go. It had been ages since he'd been in her room. Ages meaning a few weeks, but a few weeks too long. She
could probably care less about why or why he didn't come. He had been debating it all night, and when he finally decided no agreed with himself
she was beyond worth it. She might make this town an ok place. Definitely not to live, but if she was here, it would be ok. He was sure of that.
He left hours ago, but he was scrounging around this crappy town for a gift. An I'm-sorry-for-not-coming-earlier-please-love-me sort of gift. Not
as needy as he wanted to sound, but it was an accurate depiction of what he wanted it to say. He knew she would love it because her
innocence was predictable yet she was enthralling, and it was just something she would smile about. He wondered when Dean gave her that
bracelet. He wondered if she'll compare them. He wondered when he became such a lovelorn idiot, asking himself questions and doubting his
own actions.