Sunday Night

The tightness in Lorelai's chest worsened in the car, where the silence was closer to awkward than companionable. She parted her lips to speak more than once, but the only thing that occurred to her was how totally blank her mind had become and that breathing was taking far too much concentration. She was less concerned with the latter than the former.

She soon found that her mouth needed no help from her brain. "You smell really good," she said. She turned to him, startled at the sound of her own voice.

Luke didn't take his eyes from the road. "I used some new kind of soap Liz gave me. It's homemade, or something. Natural," he said.

"That's… interesting," Lorelai said. "Soap." She began to giggle.

"What?"

She tried to compose herself and failed. "I am so fucking nervous," she said, leaning forward as she laughed.

Luke watched her, taking in the sweater and the lace peeking out from underneath. Her hair was in a low ponytail at the nape of her neck and as she laughed, a single lock loosed itself and brushed her cheek. He swallowed and sighed, nervously tapping his fingers on the gearshift where he rested his hand.

"Thank God," he said.

She looked at him, biting back another fit of giggles. "You too?"

"A little," he said. After a short pause, he told her, "a lot."

Lorelai tucked the lock of hair behind her ear and shook her head, a puzzled smile on her face. "Don't you think that's weird?" She put her hand to her chest, fingering the lace edging of her camisole. "And then I try to think about acting normally, and I just feel weirder."

Luke laughed at this. "That, Lorelai, is because you never act normal."

"Mean," she said. But the tightness in her throat lessened a little, and she settled back in her seat. "Where are we going, anyway?"

"Trumbull Kitchen."

"In Hartford?"

"What, you think I'm going to take you to the diner and then we'll go to the movie at the library?"

"No," she said, giving him a petulant look. "But that would have been—"

"A sucky way to treat someone on a first date," Luke said.

Lorelai smiled. "You put some thought into this," she said.

"I did."

Lorelai began to giggle again. Off his look, she said, "We're on a date," she whispered.

"Seriously, Lorelai, if this is so weird for you—"

She reached out and covered his right hand, gripping the gearshift, with her own. "It's not," she said. "It's nice. I'm just—"

"Four years old?"

"You know me so well," she said.

He looked at her sidelong. "That I do," he said. "That I do."

After that, it was easier. They sat in a booth at the restaurant and split appetizers—chicken wings, spinach and artichoke fondue (despite Lorelai's protest that green things had no place in her world), Portobello mushroom quesadillas—and a pizza. Lorelai laughed at Luke for ordering both the dinner and drinks—martinis, as they were a house specialty—without letting her help, but approved of his choices.

"Everything here is so good," she said, dipping her finger into the fondue. "This food is amazing."

"I'm glad you like it."

Lorelai narrowed her eyes at him. "Have you been here before?"

He shrugged in response.

"With a girl?"

"Lorelai," he began, and she laughed.

"Interesting," she said. "Very interesting."

They talked about things Stars Hollow. Lorelai told Luke about the sheer number of comment cards Taylor provided during the test run (nineteen, all filled with tiny writing); they speculated as to what he'd decided to write. Lorelai complimented Luke on his surprising tendency towards dirty remarks. They mocked the upcoming Tulip Festival and the Tastes of Stars Hollow Festival to follow—one which elicited a "dirty!" from Lorelai every year. They talked about the Dragonfly's opening. The wistful look Luke had always seen on Lorelai's face when discussing the possibility of owning an inn herself was replaced with one of delighted anticipation.

"You know, you glow when you talk about that inn the same way you do when you talk about how well Rory does in school," he said. When she averted her eyes in embarrassment, he went on, "You should be really proud of yourself, Lorelai. Look at what you've done."

She peeked at him from beneath her lashes. "I had a lot of help," she told him. "And I am proud that I have made it through this entire meal and still have room for some of that fabulous-looking chocolate cake I saw the waiter carrying to the table behind us."

Luke chuckled. "When isn't there room for dessert with you?"

"Don't worry, I'll share," she said.

They were chatting lightly about the restaurant's décor as they walked back to Luke's truck. He walked beside her, guiding her with his hand pressed lightly to the small of her back. Lorelai kept losing her train of thought, distracted by the overwhelming awareness she had of his hand propelling her forward, his fingertips just slightly pushing at the fabric of her sweater. She remembered what she had told Rory just hours before, that the weirdness of the situation came from the lack of weirdness. It wasn't like before in the car, when the ceremonial aspect of their first date seemed so ridiculous: this was so natural it was unnerving.

"So," she said, "where to next?"

"My alma mater," he said.

"Your what?"

"My old school."

"I know what alma mater means, Mr. Webster, I just wasn't aware you had one," she said.

"I went to college," he said, a note of defensiveness in his voice.

Lorelai sputtered a moment, backpedaling, before she said, "Sookie just told me once that you never left Stars Hollow for college, so I just assumed—but you know what they say about people who assume."

Luke thought about this for a moment. "It probably seemed like that. My dad wasn't doing too good back then, and that was when Liz started getting into all kinds of shit. I was home a lot."

"You are an amazing person, Luke Danes."

Luke stalled pulling out from a stop light when she said this. "Not really," he said.

"Most people would have taken the opportunity to escape when things like that were happening at home, you know."

"I couldn't do that," Luke said. "They were—are—my family."

"And that," Lorelai told him, "is why you are an amazing person."

He parked the truck behind the chapel in the visitor's lot. As she stepped out of the cab, Lorelai looked up at the building, her mouth agape.

"That is one big church," she said.

"You can see it from the highway," he said.

"It's beautiful."

As they walked towards the center of campus, Lorelai unconsciously put her hand in Luke's, lacing her fingers through his. They were silent together for a moment, drawing a little closer as they walked. Lorelai reached over with her other hand and rested it in the crook of Luke's elbow.

"So this is Trinity," she said. "The buildings are kind of… pointy."

Luke looked up and over her head at the building that lined the entire walkway. "That's a dorm, right there, and classrooms. I forget where it splits. They call this the Long Walk."

"I wonder why," Lorelai giggled.

They wandered slowly down the path, Luke pointing out the T formation of the elm trees and the one square of the walkway imprinted with Latin that no one walked on. "It's a superstition thing: if you walk on it, you won't graduate in four years like everyone else."

"So no one walks on it?"

"It's funny when the walk's crowded, you see people in the middle of a conversation just separate to walk around it and keep on talking like they don't realize they've done it," he said.

"I think that's nice," Lorelai said.

He squeezed her hand slightly, absently running his thumb over hers. The fluttering at her ribcage intensified and spread: her insides were quaking.

"I think so," he said.

"So, we're going to the movies, here, on a college campus?"

"There's a movie theater behind the chemistry building. Cinestudio. It was renovated in the seventies—it's neat. I think you'll like it."

"I think I will," Lorelai said.

He lead her into the lobby and they lined up behind a row of students chatting about RA-ing and interning for the summer, their postures slumped and bored. They wore shorts and sweatpants, flannel pajama bottoms, three of them with "Trinity" written in big block letters on the ass. They had identical ponytails and all clutched id cards in their hands.

"What are we seeing?" Lorelai whispered.

"Something called Pretty in Pink. They don't usually show movies after seven-thirty on Sundays but—" He trailed off when he saw the gleeful smile on Lorelai's face.

"No way," she said. "Pretty in Pink? That movie is so brilliant."

"You've seen it?" he asked, disappointed.

"Luke, my friend, one cannot possibly see Pretty in Pink too many times. It's a movie for the ages."

"Well, good."

They stood side by side, holding hands as they waited. Lorelai suddenly leaned into Luke, standing on her toes and resting her chin on his shoulder. "Can I tell you what a good time I'm having?" she said.

He lowered his eyes, abashed. "Sure."

She laughed. "It was a rhetorical question." She bit her lip. "I am having the best time," she said.

Lorelai was properly impressed by the theater, the balcony and the old fashioned curtain over the screen, the funny carpeting and the fanfare of the "coming attractions" screen. Luke was more amused by Lorelai than the film itself, stealing glances at her throughout. She mouthed along at certain parts and giggled to herself at the most inappropriate times. She hung on his arm as they left, tripping lightly beside him as he brought her along the Lower Long Walk.

"My favorite part is when she cries because she's so embarrassed about where she lives. No! My favorite part is the parking lot kissing. No, I know, my favorite part is when James Spader call Molly Ringwald a bitch. Do you know, I so wanted to work at the record store? And I used to practice the whole Molly Ringwald thing, how she would bite her lip all the time? Oh, I was so lame. Molly Ringwald is so lame," she said.

"So what exactly is the 'brilliant' part of this movie?" Luke asked.

"Obviously, its subversive commentary on class wars in American high schools."

"Obviously."

"And also, the total blandness of the male romantic lead and his anemic kissing. Brilliant," she said. She stopped walking and caught her breath, looking over the athletic field towards the view of the city. "Who knew Hartford had a skyline?" she said.

"Anyone driving on 84," Luke replied.

Lorelai rolled her eyes and pulled him down to sit beside her on one of the stone benches that lined the long, curving walkway. He put his arm around her and they huddled close in the gathering cool and damp. "This really is a beautiful campus," she said. "I can't believe you went to school here. What did you study?"

"Econ, beer, and baseball."

"Interesting."

"Not really. I hated econ and I was already well acquainted with beer. I liked the baseball, though. That's really why I was here. I had a scholarship."

Lorelai contemplated the sweep of the fields before them. "I can see you playing here," she said. She rested her head on his shoulder. "Did you love it?"

He shrugged slightly. "It was something to do," he said. "Like I said, I went home a lot." She shivered, and he pulled her closer, enjoying the way she leaned against him, how easy it suddenly was, how little she resisted. "Do you have to get back anytime soon?"

"I think Rory wanted some time alone." She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. "You know, you don't ask questions louder than anyone I know."

"You'll tell me when you're ready," he said, adding, "you always do."

"Can I ask you a question?" She took a breath. "Yesterday, before Kirk and… everything. You said you did everything the book said. What did you mean?" She felt him stiffen slightly. "Never mind, it's not—"

"You remember the book you saw in Jess's bag before the wedding?"

Lorelai furrowed her brows. "Yeah," she said. After a moment, realization dawned. "Oh," she said. "But why?"

"Why the book?" She nodded. "It was something you said, that day in the inn kitchen, about Dr. Phil and other stuff—I don't know, I just thought what the hell. I thought it would be bullshit, and a lot of it was, but some of it… it made me think about stuff."

"What stuff?"

"What I wanted. And not what I thought I wanted, you know, but what I really wanted," he said. "I didn't know what else to do—things kept crapping out." He had averted his eyes as he spoke, but after a pause, he looked at Lorelai again. "I do have one question."

Her face was hard to read. "Shoot," she said.

"That guy, last night—"

"Jason?"

"Yeah. What he asked you. If he hadn't sued your dad, would you still be with him?"

Lorelai pulled back slightly. "Oh, Luke," she said sadly. She stared out at the lights of the city for a long moment. "It would have happened sooner or later. Jason wasn't—he didn't—everything for him is about upping someone else, showing off to someone, trying to prove something. I thought it was fun, and everything, but really, he didn't fit. He didn't belong. Everything was show and tell and games and… when he sued my dad, it was just a gut reaction: family honor and all that shit. But I realize you can't be with someone who's going to force you to split your life in half. I used to tell Rory all the time that I wanted to keep my personal life separate from her and I know you just can't do that with family, and with Jason? He was always going to be separate. I just didn't realize it until he put me on opposite sides with my dad."

They were quiet a moment, thinking.

"Would you have asked me out if you hadn't read that book?" she asked.

"You know it's more than that," Luke said.

"Tell me."

He sighed. "It made me remember some stuff," he said.

"It made you think about stuff and remember stuff. That's quite a book." Seeing his look, she cringed. "Sorry."

"There were just things that I had forgotten… feelings—"

"That's a new word for us," Lorelai said, smiling sadly.

"—that were just, you know."

"What?"

"Pointless."

"No, Luke," she said, "that's awful." She put a hand to her forehead. "God, I'm the worst person."

"No, you're not." He sighed again and pushed the errant lock of hair behind her ear. "This is gonna sound dumb," he began.

"Then I'm gonna love it," Lorelai said.

"I needed to remember what possibility felt like," he said.

"That," she said, "is the least dumb thing I've ever heard." She paused. "I was surprised, I have to say it. At you, at my reaction—I've been falling over tables and walking into doors and having heart attacks—"

"What?"

"Metaphorical heart attacks," she said. "I think, anyway."

"And?" he asked.

Lorelai noticed how he held his breath, waiting, and it made her smile. "It made me think about some stuff," she said, "and remember some stuff."

She kissed him then, feeling the gentle pain in her chest again, which together with the fluttering sensation brought tears to her eyes. He drew her closer, his hands on the small of her back and at the base of her neck. This time, she thought, I might really be having a heart attack.

When the kiss broke, Luke rested his forehead against Lorelai's, his eyes closed. He could almost hear her pulse and his own, thrumming too fast, too close to the surface.

"Man," Lorelai said, "I wish my memory didn't suck so much."

He laughed then, more than she had ever seen or heard him do before. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "Come on," he said, "I'm taking you home."

She gasped, delighted: "Dirty!"

He shook his head ruefully. "Oh, man," he said. "Ice cream?"

"Oh, always," she said.

He put his arm around her as they walked. "Well, at least some things never change."