Still
Her fingers trailed absently over the selection of books, eyes following pace with rapid succession. She smiled to herself as she drew a small paperback from the shelf, securing it tightly to her chest where four others presently resided.
"You'll hate it." A familiar voice broke her calm, his breath whispering across the back of her neck.
Rory flinched, startled by the sudden intrusion of her space and even more so by the intruder. "What are you doing here?" She hissed quietly.
"It's a bookstore." Jess held up his own prospective options for affirmation. "And look at that, I've got some books. Last time I checked this was an open to the public kind of thing…"
Her eyes narrowed in suspicion. Less than a day after Sookie's wedding and he was acting as if nothing had happened, the resident smirk lighting his face in a way she hadn't seen before. A vision of her actions flashed through her mind and she shook her head forcefully, willing away the feel of his lips on hers. She hastily tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear before responding. "I have to go."
"Only six?" he raised an eyebrow. "Shortage of bags or something?"
"I already have books for Washington…I was just…getting some for the flight." Rory mumbled, shuffling her feet and averting her gaze from his fixated one.
"Huh." He nodded. "What about the flight home? You sure six will be enough then?"
An embarrassed smile graced her face. "I have some for that too."
"Good to know. But you're going to hate this one."
She glanced down at the novella, the one she'd chosen last. "I think I can decide which books I'll like for myself thank you very much. Ethan Frome, it's Edith Wharton. Guaranteed to be a classic."
"Guaranteed to be a knockoff of The Great Gatsby. If you really love Gatsby as much as you claim, you'd know you're wasting your time on Frome." He pointed out with an indignant grin.
"I don't think it's right of you to question my love for Gatsby. It's just…a malicious attempt for me to put the book away. You want it, don't you? It was the last copy, wasn't it? It was! Well I'm taking it—you'll just have to borrow it." Rory's rant was silenced as he set a finger to her lips. She felt her breath still at the touch and hurriedly took a few stumbling steps backwards. "I have to go."
"Are you okay?" Jess inquired, attempting in vain to keep the amusement from his tone. "I don't want the book, Rory. But you're going to be sorry you spent two hours reading it when you could have reread Gatsby instead."
"I have to go." She reiterated.
He shrugged indifferently. "Go then, by all means."
"I'm going…moving out the door…I'm going to buy these books, including Ethan Frome and I'm going to go home and read it tonight and enjoy it and you'll be wrong. And I'll laugh at you. Ha. See? I'm even laughing already…it's my ironic laughter for the forthcoming hilarity when I see you next."
Jess smiled as she turned from him, her last words a melody to his ears.
~~~
Rory glared at the book, and tossed it to the side of her bed with a slight grumble. A pout framed her mouth; her arms crossed her chest defensively. She sighed in relief with a glance towards her packed bags, realizing she wouldn't have to face him for three months.
A persistent knock sounded at her window, once again breaking her thoughts from the boy that had occupied her thoughts consistently as of late, to—the same boy waiting impatiently on the other side of the glass. "What are you doing here?" She demanded as she raised the pane.
"Is this like a regular conversation starter for you or just reserved for my benefit?" Jess retaliated, putting one leg over the ledge and stepping inside. "How's it going?"
"It's almost eleven, Jess. If…you…what do you want?"
"Just stopped by to see if you'd finished up yet." He buried his hands in his pockets, looking past her to the weathered looking object in question before returning his eyes to hers. "You did."
"I did." Rory's hand was clasped tightly around her arm, fingers tugging nervously at her clothing.
"And?" he pressed, letting the jacket slip from his shoulders before taking a seat on her bed.
"It was awful." Her nose crinkled and he couldn't help but smile at the endearing vision before him.
"Sit." Jess patted the space beside him. She reluctantly obliged, watching as he reached behind himself for the book.
"It was so…just…bad. Very very bad. And that whole tortured man in love with a woman he can't have thing…Gatsby did it so much better. At least that was believable. Ethan From was in love with what like his fourth cousin once removed and he married his cousin to begin with and…it was just…bad. Bad book. Bad." Rory shook her head, worry lines marring her forehead.
Jess grinned, flipping through the first few pages. "I told you."
"And Gatsby was romantic. Did you see Ethan Frome saving anything of Mattie's?"
"Give the guy some credit. He didn't have anything to save, but he genuinely loved her and vice versa. Gatsby had stalker material."
"Okay fine, I admit the newspaper clipping thing held scary possibilities, but still." She protested, crossing her legs. "Gatsby loved Daisy—and he only did everything…good and bad, for her. And she wasn't willing to risk it because Tom was safe. She didn't have to worry with Tom, but with Gatsby it was a whole different level."
"Yeah." His was voice barely above a whisper. "They were all morons anyway."
"They were logical." Rory argued with a frown. "Everything would have ended badly anyway."
"Yeah, or they could have been happy. Everyone regretted not taking that risk." Jess retaliated quickly.
She was catching on to the double meaning of the conversation and panic filled her senses. "It's late."
"It is? Huh, didn't notice." He smirked.
"Yes. Very late. You should go home. I have to get up early or I'll miss the plane, you have to get up early or Luke will hurt you…go." She stood, pulling him up alongside her. Her movements were harsher than she'd intended and she found herself tripping over some satanic object on the floor, losing her balance before she was flat against his chest.
Jess looked down at her, his arm wrapped securely around her back. "We ever gonna talk about that little greeting yesterday or what?"
Every fiber of her being screamed for her to remove herself from his grasp and yet she didn't budge. "It was a mistake." Rory breathed, pulling her lower lip between her teeth.
"Figured you'd say something like that." He replied with a hazy nod. "You looked weird today…thought it might be bugging you."
"A little." She admitted softly. "I didn't tell Dean…I have to tell Dean…because it was wrong and bad and he needs to know. He has to know Jess." Tears began to cloud her vision and he gently traced his thumb across her cheek.
"Rory, you're fine. I'm not going to screw things up with Bag Boy, don't worry. Mistake, like you said."
She sniffled, lowering her eyes to the floor. "I know but—"
"It's fine. You're gonna be fine, bad books and all." Jess hooked his fingers beneath her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Alright?"
"Okay." Rory whispered.
He pressed a chaste kiss to her temple, letting his lips linger for a moment. "Later."
Within minutes he was gone, his shadow disappearing into the night and the room was empty, as if he'd never been there to begin with. But Rory felt otherwise. There was a faint sense of his presence left behind, a small inkling of memory reserved in her heart. It was a comfort and a threat all in the same instant, realizing that Jess meant more to her than she was willing to let on.
Jess was the risk, her Gatsby.
Rory's breath stilled with the thought as she climbed back into bed, closing her eyes, chasing sleep.