Disclaimer: The Gilmore Girls and their world are owned by Amy Sherman Palladino and the WB.
Note: Thanks for the reviews, especially the one who said I got Jess's voice down. That's something I was nervous about. And to the anonymous one who asked about the rating – I wasn't sure if the slightly dirty talk in the answering machine message in the first chapter rated an R. Probably not, but for now I'm going to leave the rating the way it is. Because I don't know what I'm going to add later.
Everything else: See chapter one.
Listening to one side of a phone call I'm on doesn't bother you because you like to make up imaginary replies that you would give me if you were the one I was talking with. Listening to one side of a conversation you're having doesn't bother me because I tune you out unless you're discussing me. If I ask, you will probably have some theory of how this illustrates the differences in our personalities, but I don't ask.
"You never know when you'll need a prayer shawl, though," you say convincingly. I keep reading.
"I don't think he's Jewish, Lane – or 13."
"Was I supposed to be helping?"
"You could have sent me a memo or something!"
"I didn't want to go to your bat mitzvah, anyway."
"Really?"
"Sometimes I wonder if you two are really related."
"That's an awfully detailed alien abduction theory for the spur of the moment, Lane."
"You have too much time on your hands."
"Ooh, good song."
"See, that's why you're a drummer. It doesn't matter if you're short or forget to put on pants."
"Jess isn't short, he's just not tall."
Hearing my name, I put my book down. I've read it seven times, anyway. "Lane thinks I'm short?"
You put your hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. "She says I'm a magnet for the vertically challenged," you explain sweetly. Lane thinks my height is something I'm sensitive about.
I'm not offended, not at all. "I'm taller than you, you know," I say anyway.
You tell Lane, "Jess is taller than me," grudgingly and then laugh. Lane probably said something about a milk crate. But she's the one who forgets to put on pants, so I won't be annoyed. At least you don't have to use a ladder to kiss me.
The next words out of your mouth are about Lane's newest hairstyle and I pick my book back up.
When you finally hang up the phone, you glare at me.
"What?"
"You're coming with me to dinner tomorrow night," randomly but that's typical Rory behavior.
Not this topic again. You've been trying to get me to join you during a Friday night dinner for a year now and I've successfully avoided it so far, but the look on your face now reminds me of when Lorelai asks Luke for coffee. "Your grandparents hate me," I remind you.
You don't argue; it's true and you know it. Maybe I can get out of this still. But then you open your mouth and, "I'll tell Landon that he should feel free to borrow your CDs whenever he'd like," comes out.
Damn. You're not allowed to talk to Lane anymore.