Chapter Five
Rory
It took a football hitting me on the hip to break the awkward silence that feel upon us after that stupid confession. I was livid from the pain of the football going 300 kilometers per hour striking my bones, as well as from the way Jess looked at me.
I instantaneously crumpled to the bench, still clinging to my books.
"Ya-aah!" I let out this girly squeal at the surprise. Who the hell played football in Yale anyway? Go transfer to Michigan State, you jocks! This is nerd territory, for God's sake—didn't you read the pamphlet?!
Jess simply shoved his hands in his pockets and smirked down at me. I knew I'd get no sympathy from this guy. Really. Jess Mariano was a man of no heart.
I hate you, Jess Mariano—you broke my hip!
"Get up. I want to see your dorm room."
Flabbergasted! Here I was, tending to a bruise the size of the Philippine archipelago, and he wanted to see my residential area?! I glared at him, wishing his hair would catch fire.
"What, you want me to carry you or something?" he asked, a pail of sarcasm sloshed over his offer.
"Puh—no." I pursed my lips and got up, wincing at the pain. But Jess Mariano, Boy Evil, was apparently enjoying my pain. With a huff, I swung my bag around and hit my hip again.
"Nye-haaa!"
His face was starting to betray laughter. Amusement had already done its traitorous deed on his expression. I took pride that I was one of the chosen few to make him laugh, but remorse as I realized that it was usually at my health's expense.
"Suck it up, Gilmore. It's just a bump."
"It's not a measly bump; it's a road hump!"
He sighed at me, his eyes saying, "Oh, Rory, what would you ever do without a big, strapping young lad like me by your bruised side?" and grabbed my bag and books.
"Oh, quit whining, you little frump."
Aghast! I looked at him, my eyes wide, and my mouth agape.
He merely gave me this look of… something—it was a patented Jess-look, it was, but indescribable all the same—and walked ahead of me.
***
"JESS! GIVE ME A HUG!" Paris screamed as she ran full speed at Jess. I saw Terrance sitting on the couch, a proud smile on his latest project's progress.
She suddenly stopped when she saw Jess's squinted glare.
"Oh, you're right—I don't need to hug you. You're okay with me being anti-social and scary." She crossed her arms in front of her and glared back at Jess.
"I'm not giving you a hug, Paris."
"Dammit, Mariano, it's for my personal growth!"
"Then stay stunted and blame it on the coffee," he replied with ease.
I took offense, "Hey!" I drink coffee and I'm perfectly well-proportioned to my height, thank you very much.
"Oh, great, now you've hurt Rory's feelings. Way to go, Jess," Paris seethed. All because of a hug.
"Still not hugging you, Paris."
Jess smirked at her as he put my stuff down on the ottoman. Paris frowned at him, her hands curled into fists. "Jess Mariano, if you don't give me a platonic-yet-meaningful hug right now, I will seriously—,"
"Paris," Terrance called gently from the couch, forgotten but satisfied with being the fly in the wall of the conversation. Until now.
"He wouldn't hug me. You saw that it's clearly his fault, right, Rory?"
I put my hands up in defense, "Hey, hey, just the amused spectator with the popcorn over here."
"Paris, come here," Terrance firmly beckoned. She turned and I could have sworn she hissed at Jess. However, looking at him, he didn't seem to mind, if he even heard it at all.
"Do you know what you did wrong in that confrontation?"
God, I hated Terrance. With a passion. I hated the way he spoke to people. He talked to you in that condescending tone which made you want to smack him upside in the head.
I suddenly felt Jess's presence beside me. "What's Mr. Clean doing to our unstable acquaintance, anyway?" he asked as Paris dissected her whole approach to Jess in front of Terrance.
"He's her life coach."
Jess didn't even miss a beat. He raised an eyebrow, "And here some say Harpo Studios is lagging behind."
"She has a crafts corner."
He raised his palm to his face, "So that's what that sparkly thing on the doorknob was. Actually, in all honestly, I preferred Paris anti-social and scary."
The admission made Terrance and Paris turn to face him. "What did you say?" they both said in unison and disbelief.
Jess
God, Paris was still the same. I don't know why I did, but I found her personality amusing. She's got these quirks, and once you push a button, she goes and does something weird. She's like a toy. Or one of those Japanese pencil cases with all the compartments and buttons to push.
And not only am I an improviser, I'm a button-pusher, too.
Then the Terrance guy started looking at me funny. Like a plan was forming in his head. Hm. Not good.
"You know, Rory, for a student that applied for financial aid, you're living quite the good life," I said as I scanned the room, fully-furnished.
"It's from my grandmother," she said woefully.
"It's an evil plot to establish control over the suite!" Paris yelled from the couch. A shush from Terrance and she was quiet.
"I'd be glad to take these out of your hands, if all this sparkling wealth's such a big hassle for you. God knows Ma-Huen needs a new TV."
"Ma-Huen?"
I was still looking around, "My roommate." I felt like I was in Emily Gilmore's place all over again. Or in Circuit City. I didn't even know how to work half of these things. I didn't realize Rory was looking at me the whole time. "A maid's not gonna come out of the fireplace holding out canapés, is there?"
"Try chimney sweep," Paris interjected bitterly. I gave her a small smirk. Paris was cool. Well, not now, with her life coach watching her every move, but it's not like talking to a blow-up doll from China. Or speaking in Model UN sessions.
Okay, so maybe sometimes.
"Roommate?" Rory repeated in a disbelieving tone.
"That's what I said."
"Roommate?"
"Don't hurt yourself."
Rory scratched her arm nervously, "So you've moved back into Connecticut?"
Oh, I see. Damn, my super-duper plan was starting to evolve so much it didn't look like its original father anymore. My plan was pulling a Luke Skywalker, and Darth's not happy about that.
"Well, I saw the brochure and the kids and I just couldn't resist."
"W-why would you do that?" There she was, going all breathless on me again.
I shrugged. "Just felt like a change."
Paris tried to enter the conversation once again. "Those drug dealers got to you, huh?"
"Paris, you do know I'm from New York, right?"
She played with the hem of her shirt, "As your political ideals and priorities may suggest."
"So you know perfectly well that drugs dealers aren't really as big to me as landing on Mars is to NASA?"
"I was trying to make polite conversation," she said primly.
"With drug dealers the only subject to choose from?"
"Terrance said that the topics I often discussed were too intellectual for most people, and is the main reason for their distance."
I looked at this Terrance guy. He was nodding to the words that came out of Paris's mouth.
"Paris, you're insane."
She moved to get up, and most likely ram me to the ground, but Terrance held her arm back.
Author's Notados:
I got something very special planned for this. It's a bit slow, I apologize, but it'll pick up after a while—I promise.
Thank you again to all the lovely people who have reviewed, your comments help so much.
And yes, Samantha, I was talking about you.