"You should come inside and warm up," Rory says when they reached the dorms. Despite the warm weather, the rain is icy.
"Why? Then I have to walk to my bus stop and get all cold again." Tristan fishes around his pants pocket, retrieving a tube of chapstick.
"Yeah, I know, but it would be nice."
"It would be, but I have to be getting back to school, and you have a riveting six week conference that starts tomorrow."
"Don't remind me."
"It'll go by quick, I'll call you every day."
"Every day is a little excessive, don't you think?"
"You don't want to talk to me?"
"I do, it just seems like a lot of money."
"Don't worry about it, I got it covered," Tristan says. Rory thinks of Tristan's Porsche, his preppy clothes, his carefree manner that once screamed wealth.
"Yeah I bet you do."
"Don't say it like that."
"Like what?"
"Like I'm some snotty little rich boy."
"Snotty and little no, but you are rich."
"I happen to have money and I don't have anything to spend it on. What better than to hand it over to AT&T?"
"I can call you too, you know," Rory says, shuffling her feet.
"We'll see," Tristan says. He straightens the collar of Rory's shirt, which had flipped up on one side in the pandemonium.
"Thank-you," she says, voice so quiet it's a wonder Tristan can hear her.
The hug happens so fast Rory has no time to analyze or feel awkward. As soon as she realizes it's happening, it is over and Tristan is adjusting the hood of his rain slicker.
"Next time I'll come up and see your room."
"Call when you get home," Rory answers, ignoring the fact that Tristan just told her there would be another visit.
"Will do," Tristan says, pausing only a second to look at her before jogging through the slushy city streets to catch his bus.
Shivering, Rory takes the elevator up to her dorm. Inside the tiny room, Paris is flat on her back, face covered in olive green gook, reading Native Son.
"You're molding," Rory greets her.
"Very original."
"How's the book?"
"Sick and twisted. Mr. Medina went all out on choosing this one."
"Can't wait to dive right in. I'm freezing, I'm hitting the showers."
"Lorelai, Lane, and Dean all three called for you."
"Dean called?"
"And Lorelai and Lane."
"What did you tell him?"
"You know he's not your boyfriend anymore so it's not a crime that you had a date with Tristan," Paris says, marking her place in the thick paperback and focusing her eyes on Rory.
"It wasn't a date, what did you tell him?"
"That you were out."
"What did he say?"
"Actually he sounded kind of worried."
"What do you mean by worried?"
"He said 'Is she alone?' but not in a 'I think she's with another guy' kind of way, more in a 'Washington is a big city and Rory shouldn't be wandering around alone after dark' kind of way."
"Hmm," Rory says, locating her towel in the explosion of clothing that was their closet.
"And Lane was just checking on you because you said you would call and you didn't."
"Oops."
"Don't worry, it's all taken care of. I said I'd have you call when you got back into the room and the same goes for your mom."
"Wow. Thanks for being my answering service," Rory says. She meant it as a joke but out loud it sounds harsh. Paris doesn't seem to notice. "Um, did Dean want me to call him back?"
"Yeah," Paris answers. She notices Rory staring at the phone. "I think I'm going to go get this stuff off my face."
"Good idea," Rory says. "I'll give Dean a call."
Wrapped in a blanket, Rory dials Dean's number.
"Hello?"
"Hey."
"Oh good, you're back in your dorm," Dean says.
"Yeah I just got back," Rory says, hoping he doesn't ask her where she's been or who she was with.
"I just wanted to make sure you got to Washington safely," he says, aggravating Rory's guilt. He is so wonderful, why can't she make herself love him like she used to?
"That's really nice, thanks."
"I also wanted to tell you I was sorry."
"Sorry?"
"Yeah, for the way I reacted last week about the whole…you know."
Rory blushes at the simple elusion of what she did with Jess. How could she have betrayed Dean like that? Dean who had recognized her as special because of the way she had read, Dean who accompanied her to her first dance, Dean who waited patiently as she browsed through bookstores.
"You had every right to act the way you did," Rory says. She remembers the look on Dean's face when she confessed to kissing Jess, when she told him about skipping school to go to New York City, when she admitted to being attracted to Jess. She thought Dean would yell, but all he did was grow quieter as she continued. He cried, she cried, the break-up was what they both needed- he couldn't trust her and she had a hard time remembering why they were still together. Still, she missed him.
"Maybe we shouldn't have broken up, maybe we should have just taken time apart from each other," Dean suggests
"We did what we thought we had to do."
"It was so hasty," Dean says, and it was- for him.
"That doesn't make it less right," Rory argues. "Look, Dean, what I did to you was awful and I think we both need some time apart to think about how we want to handle this."
"Yeah, you're right," Dean says. "I just…I really miss you, Rory."
"I miss you too."
"Can I ask a really inappropriate question?"
"Go for it," Rory says, wiping away tears.
"Are you and Jess…I mean are you guys…you know, together?"
"No, not at all," Rory says. "We haven't even talked since the wedding. I saw him at Luke's right before I left and all it did was remind me of this terrible thing I did to you and I can't deal with that right now."
"Okay," Dean says, his voice losing the tense tone that had been there since the beginning of the conversation. The door cracks open and Rory waves Paris inside.
"I need to go, I have some stuff to take care of before I go to bed," Rory says.
"Oh okay, well it was good to talk to you."
"You too."
"And check in every once in a while, okay?"
"I promise," Rory says.
"Bye."
"Bye."
Paris sits beside her on the bed, trying to catch her eye, waiting for her to speak. Rory continues to stare at the phone resting in her lap, and when she does raise her eyes to meet Paris's, she begins to cry.