A/N:  As always, I really appreciate the feedback.  Huge thanks to Marissa, my fountain of college knowledge.  I am so utterly clueless without her.  Arianna, as usual, is so very sweet.  Thanks for being helpful; hope you keep on typing!

Chapter Seven

He flitted in and out of her peripheral vision, serving lunches and taking orders.  Her watch reminded her that she had been standing in the same place for six minutes, and he had yet to acknowledge her presence, let alone ask what she wanted.  It grated on her nerves that he would leave her hanging like this, but at the same time, her eyes hung on the kitchen door, begging Luke to reach the counter before Jess did.  Any second now, Luke had to come out of the door with a plate or some kind of instinct that a prospective customer needed service.

A shiver sliced through her as she felt someone walk behind her, their arm almost grazing her back.  Seconds later, Jess appeared behind the cash register with two men in tow.  He rang them up, concentrating on his own movement, instead of on Rory who was now staring at him.  He gave in, however, and glanced back at her, but only caught the side of her face.  He went back to counting change, and for a second time, he felt her gaze burning holes in his head.  He looked back at her, missed once again, and averted his eyes to the coins in his hand.  Immediately, he dropped them back in, having miscounted.

The third time, he caught her, ending the ridiculous game.  A painful expression took over her features, and he choked on the words that had immediately shot up his throat.  He swallowed despite the dryness of his mouth, and handed the change to the men before slamming the drawer closed.  Jess remained rooted to the floor, even after the bell on the door rang, signaling the two males' exit.  An internal war tore through him, one side urging him to take the coward's way out and head upstairs; the other yelling that he should suck it up and approach her.  Talking to her seemed too difficult after the disaster that had been the night before.  Their street scene was the feature film of the day, playing over and over inside his head.  It kept getting stuck on one particular frame of her face; her regretful expression as she told him "These things take time."

Maybe she was right.  Maybe he had overreacted.  Although, how could he have when his gut kept applauding his outburst?  He had done all he could.  She wasn't letting him fix this.  She was the one with the problem.  Not him.

Before Jess could make any kind of move, the kitchen door swung open to reveal Luke, balancing four plates.  He shuffled past Jess and down the length of the counter to head out to the tables.

"Hey, Luke," Rory said, as he walked by, "Could I get a coffee to go?"

He froze, and shifted his weight to keep the meals from toppling over.  "Can't you ask Jess?  He's right over--"

"Please," she cut in. 

"Give me a minute." 

He headed out to deliver the plates, as Jess walked by her once again, to disappear behind the curtain.  She sighed, chastising herself for even coming in this afternoon.  This should have been a quick pit stop to pick up a cup of coffee before making the drive back to Yale.  How had this ended up as an excruciating ten minutes of playing invisible?

"Ah, if it isn't the Stars Hollow Ice Cream Queen.  I've been looking for you," a voice announced to Rory's right.

"Hi, Taylor," she greeted, facing him.  "How long exactly does this queen thing last?"

"Reign.  This is your reign," he corrected.

"Right.  How long do I… reign?"

"Queens rule for life."

"I've always been an avid supporter of democracy.  Or anarchy.  Rebellion isn't necessarily a bad thing."

"I've noticed you haven't been very active in the town lately.  You've been slacking on your queenly duties.  I thought you said you'd make an attempt."

"To be fair, there hasn't been much that's been going on," she defended, trying to come with a way to extract herself from the situation.

"The dance marathon."

"I attended."

"Halloween."

"I wore a costume."

"The Autumnal Tea."

"My mother helped with that.  I was there in spirit."

"The Squirrel Gathering."

"Did you just make that up?"

"My point is, Rory," he began, "Yale has been taking up so much of your time, I'm afraid you're turning your back on this town.  You're becoming too big for us… you're becoming one of those city girls.  Before we know it, you'll be dressing suggestively and joining a cult."

"I'm sorry, what are you talk--"

"That's why, I need to ask, what are you doing this week?"

"Going to class," she said slowly, wondering how he missed the obvious.

"Do you have any afternoons free?"

"Uh, yeah, no class Wednesday afternoon.  Why?  Are you going to make me watch a film on the evils of cities?  Again?"

"No, no, of course not.  I think you got the message the first time," he explained.  "I need you to come to the high school and speak to a couple of English classes about college.  You know, about applying and your first year there.  It's that time to start applying… and some seniors haven't even considered their options yet.  I don't want them working at fast food restaurants for the rest of their lives or ending up on the streets.  Or worse… turning out like that nephew of Luke's."

"Taylor, Jess still goes to school."

"Well, I will see you on Wednesday," he said, ignoring her comment.  "And you'll be paired up with…"  He trailed off as he checked the clipboard in his hands.  "Dean.  You and Dean will do the last two classes of the day."

She shrugged.  "Okay, I'll be there."

"Wednesday."

"Wednesday," she repeated.

"Afternoon."

"Afternoon," she nodded.  "Wednesday afternoon."

"At the high school."

Before she could once again echo Taylor's words, Luke interrupted.  "One coffee to go," he said, placing the cup in front of Rory.  "Taylor, whatever it is, the answer is no."

"Now, Luke, why do you automatically assume that my coming in here has to do with you?  Do you think I sit over at Doose's everyday, making lists of questions I can ask you, and decorations that I'll force you to put up?  Do think that's all I ever do with my time?"

"Yes."

"Oh.  Well, I'll have you know you're wrong.  I came in here to see Rory."

"And…"

"And nothing."

"Taylor."

"Well, Thanksgiving is just around the corner, and--"

"No!" 

Rory smiled, and left a few bills on the counter.  She mouthed a thank you to Luke, but he was too busy yelling at Taylor to notice.

--

"I can't do this.  I can't give students advice about college.  I'm going to end up telling them all the wrong things, and make them terrified, and then they're going to flunk out because I made them so nervous and told them to do everything wrong, and for the rest of my life, I will feel guilty.  I made them all fail.  That forty year old brunette who works the grill at the local McDonalds?  My doing."

"Rory, if you're going to have an anxiety attack, could you do it silently?"  Paris inquired, flipping a page in her textbook.

"What did everyone tell us?  What were our words of encouragement?"

"Failure is a part of life, but not a part of Chilton.  Failure equals death.  Or worse, disownment."

"Yeah, that'll go over great."

"Don't you want to be honest?  You're not going to feed them that 'As long as you tried your best bull', are you?"

"Uh, no," Rory said, quickly erasing a line from her paper.

"You need to be tough on them!  Tell them that they need to work hard and not be afraid to step on anybody in their way if they want to get into the best college."

"They're seniors.  It's a little late for them to be making changes in their work habits now.  I'm just supposed to tell them about applying and my freshman year."

"Oh.  Then, tell them that if they only apply to one school then college won't help because they're already lost causes.  Tell them not to count on their first choice, because even if they make the grades, accumulate the hours, and have a legacy there, it's not going to happen because that's how life is.  And tell them that freshman year is not all about partying and sex.  And tell them that if they're going to stay up all night talking to their boyfriend on the phone, not to do it the night before an exam."

"Aww, Paris, that's so sweet.  You talked to Jamie all night?"

"Nope, the girl that sits in front of me in my Lit class pulled an all-nighter on the phone with her boyfriend.  The next day, she didn't answer a single question.  And she snored."

"Oh.  Well, that's great advice."  She paused.  "Speaking of guys though… did you give Tyler my number?"  Rory asked, swiveling in her seat to face her roommate.

"Yeah, he showed up here drooling like a dog.  He was heartbroken that you weren't in your room.  I gave him your number to make him go away."

"Could you not do that again?  I mean, that's my home number.  There was a reason I didn't give it to him, and I don't appreciate you just throwing it at random boys."

"Gee, someone's touchy about this.  What's wrong?  He not broody enough for you?  Despite his lost puppy like traits, he is intelligent.  He wants to be a lawyer."

"I don't like lawyers."

"You don't like guys."

"Paris, I'm not looking to date anyone right now!  It's my freshman year, and I just want to concentrate on my work."

"Hey, what are you trying to say?  I have a boyfriend, and I balance everything just fine."

"I guess you're just much more centered than I am."

"Is this about that Jess guy?"

"No."

"Holding out for him?"

"Just stop giving out my number, okay?"

"Fine, in the future, I will not attempt to help your social life."

"Good.  Thank you," Rory muttered.

A few minutes of silence passed, as she continued jotting down notes for her lecture.  She turned the page in her notebook, nearly ripping it with her haste.  Frustrated and distracted, she threw down her pen.

"Tell them if they're forced to go to the cafeteria in their pajamas, try not to wear bunny slippers."

"Funny, Paris."

--

She should have foreseen this.  The first class had gone too well.  A majority of the students had sat attentive, listening to what she and Dean had to say.  Many asked questions, eager to gather information to prevent them from making any serious mistakes during their application process.  No one had been rude, sarcastic, or ungrateful for the helpful advice and the reprieve from the usual English work.  Rory hadn't embarrassed herself.  Instead, she had felt increasingly comfortable moving around the front of the room, practicing public speaking.  It had been an excellent experience for her, and by the time the bell rang, she felt at ease. 

However, the bottom of her stomach dropped out at the sight of Jess sliding into a second row desk.  Soon enough, the rest of the students filed in, and the bell rang once again, signaling the beginning of class and the end of her good mood.  She dreaded opening her mouth to speak now that her concentration had been skewed.  Plus, she wasn't so sure that that bored expression on Jess's face would last long.  He may have had monosyllabic tendencies, but that didn't mean he wouldn't speak his mind when he felt like it. 

Dean took a step next to her and shot her a look; he had seen him too.  She shrugged as if to wave it aside.  No big deal.  They would just do what they did last period.  Hopefully, Jess would simply fall asleep.  She took a deep breath and smiled.

"Hi, I'm Rory Gilmore.  I'm a freshman at Yale University, and my majors are English and Political Science.  But before any of you flip and insist you don't have any idea of what you'd like to major in, you don't have to declare your major in your first year.  Although, it's a good idea to at least have an idea of what you'd like to do for the rest of your life."

"I'm Dean Forrester, a freshman at Southern, and as of yet, no major.  You don't have to declare a major until the end of your sophomore year or the beginning of your junior, depending on the school."  He paused, noticing a hand in the air.  Reluctantly, he gestured for the person to speak. 

"I wasn't aware you had to go college in order to work at a grocery store," Jess stated.

"You don't," Dean replied pointedly. 

"You were a bagboy for a while… I figured you'd go for assistant manager next.  By the time you're thirty, I bet you'll be running that place."

"So, the application process!"  Rory quickly cut in, her enthusiasm painfully fake.  "If you applied early decision, then your applications for that would most likely be done and sent in by now.  Early decision is binding, but if you're deferred, there's always applying again at the normal application time." 

She looked over at Dean, who at the moment was locked in a staring contest with Jess.  It appeared that for now, she was on her own. 

"You need to apply at the very minimum to four schools.  I've wanted to go to Harvard all my life, but I didn't just send that one application in and then pray every night.  You need backups, safety schools, just in case your dream college falls through."

"College isn't for everyone though," Dean cut in.

"Watch it, Dean.  Rory is standing right there," Jess said.

"Like I said, college isn't for everyone.  For example, people on the five year plan for high school," Dean continued, not taking his eyes off of Jess.  "Although some people will make it fine in life without a degree in their pocket.  Others are just destined to fail no matter--"

"Applications are usually due January 1st," Rory recited at warp speed.  She shot a look at both boys, fuming.  They were both making this much more difficult than it had to be.  "Some schools have a later deadline, but in general, it's the first.  Once the acceptance letters come in, you need to carefully consider your options, the financial plan, and the classes each school has before you make your final decision.  Pro and con lists help… that's how I chose mine."

A girl in the fourth row waved her arm back and forth.  Finally.  Someone with a real question.

"You said you've always wanted to go to Harvard, but you go to Yale.  Did you not get in or… did your parents want you to go to Yale?  Even though you yourself have absolutely no problem with going to some small art school in Rhode Island?"  The girl asked, hinting at her own problem.

"Well, I, uh…"  Rory was caught off guard with this question.  There were dozens of reasons she had gone for Yale in the end.  "My grandfather went to Yale," she explained.  "He always wanted me to go, but I was dead set on Harvard.  But after thinking about it, I decided I wasn't ready to move so far away yet.  I'd miss this town and my mom too much."  She paused.  "Besides, at the time, my boyfriend lived here too.  I didn't want to leave him."  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jess shift positions but she couldn't see his expression.  She refused to look him in the face.

"So, should you go to a college just because your parents want you to?"  The girl asked.

"In the end, if you don't have a scholarship or financial aid, your parents have to pay for your school, but I think you should make the decision based on where you want to go.  Don't go or stay for anyone else.  It's hardly ever worth it." 

The words had poured from her mouth as they entered her mind.  They had surprised her at first, but then they had made perfect sense.  Of course.  She had known this all along.  Jess sticking around hadn't been worth it.  He had probably only done it to prove that he wasn't some coward who ran away at the first sign of trouble.  She, on the other hand, had gotten lucky with Yale.  He hadn't been the sole reason for her decision but he had been a major part.  She hadn't wanted to give him up after dating him for such a short time.  Long distance relationships, even ones spanning over only one state, always floundered and faded before the first year was over.  She didn't want to try only to end up hating him in the end.

Again, she couldn't meet his eyes.  She hoped Dean would step in and say something to break the silence.  It seemed that only she noticed the tension in the air.

"I bet that must have been a touch decision," Jess piped up.  Anger laced his voice, but she wasn't surprised.  Sarcasm and rudeness was his natural retaliation.  "I mean, Harvard… Yale," he held up two hands, mimicking a balance.  "Ivy League… Ivy League.  Expensive… Expensive.  Hey, wait, you said your grandfather went to Yale.  Is that really why you went?  He pay to get you in there?"

Rory's eyes flashed with venom.  She knew he was messing with her, purposely trying to get a rise out of her, and it was working — too well.  She was used to vicious attacks on her life, but she couldn't stand it when he belittled her achievements.  He never tried to better himself, yet he had no qualms in attacking her ambition?

Dean took a step forward, trying to meditate the situation before it got serious.  "Jess," he warned.

"What?  That's it?  Just… 'Jess'?  You're not even going to do the towering thing?"

The students in the classroom all shifted in their seats, realizing that there was something going on here.  Anyone that had been previously sleeping seemed to wake up.  All eyes were on Jess, occasionally moving to the two speakers in the front of the room. 

"I went to Yale because I worked hard for it," Rory blurted out.  "All my life I studied and made the grades.  I put in the extra hours and tried my best.  I am so sick of you making fun of that.  You may be just fine passing through life not caring about where you're going and how--"

"Oh geez, here we go again," Jess interrupted her rant.  "Another famous Rory Lecture about the importance of a college education.  You were always on my back to work harder… do more.  I hated that.  You couldn't and still can't accept the fact that I don't want to go to college.  I don't want to be you."

"I don't want you to be me!  I just want you to be happy.  I don't want you to regret--"

"Regret?  I think we've been over that one.  It wasn't any of your business how I was doing at school, and yet you kept butting in.  Do me and any one else you date in the future a favor, and worry about yourself, alright?"

"I was just trying to help!" 

"You weren't trying to help.  You were being selfish.  You didn't like who I was and you were trying to change me.  Geez, it was like I wasn't good enough for you."

"You weren't!"

Each word he threw her way heightened her irritation and anger.  He wanted to piss her off?  Well, he succeeded.  She had only wanted him to be happier; she didn't want him forever stuck on this dead end path that he couldn't seem to get off.  She tried to help, and he resented her.  It didn't make any sense!  Now, he was accusing her of thinking he wasn't good enough?  She had never thought that yet here it was, spilling from her lips.  God, she was so angry, she could have said anything right then.

His face immediately darkened at her confirmation.  He had thought it, repeated it over and over in his head until it had sunk in and became the truth.  But to hear her say that out loud… damn it, she was right.  Their relationship lasted longer than it should have.  He should have kept on going on that bus last spring.  Then, maybe today, he wouldn't be stuck a classroom, being lectured by his ex-girlfriend about everything she wanted him to do but never would. 

He stood up and left the room.  No one was present to stop him — the English teacher had stepped out at the beginning of class.  There was only Dean — pissed off and grateful for his departure — and Rory, frozen in place.  Her anger dissipated quickly; regret filled the holes left behind.  Jess had been acting like an immature child, but she had just thrown his insecurities in his face.  Who was worse?

"Can you finish this?"  She asked Dean.  She walked past him, out the door, before he could even answer.

"I didn't mean that!"  She immediately called out. 

Jess was only a couple of feet ahead.  He moved down the hall at a leisurely pace.  At the sound of her voice, his gait didn't falter. 

"Jess, you know I didn't mean that.  You were being such an asshole!  Why were you acting like that?" 

He turned around unexpectedly, rooting her to the spot.  "I was in the same classes as Dean last year.  And now, here he is, lecturing me on my future?  And you…"  He trailed off.

Damn it.  She should have realized this; she should have picked up on it!  Instead, she had made it worse with her thoughtless comment.

"You were trying to make me angry," she insisted.  "Come on!  You accused me of buying my way into Yale!  When you get angry, you say things you don't mean!"

 "Are you sure about that?  Maybe you just had a moment of clarity.  A mini-epiphany?  Of course, this was the reason we didn't work out!"

"No, that's not it at all.  Us working out had nothing to do with whether or not you were good enough.  It was your lying!  Your running away!"

"Geez, would you stop laying it all on me?  Stop making it all my fault.  Stop pretending that you're the only one upset by this!"

She did stop — she was silent.  Words failed her.

"It all comes back to this.  Every single time… and we're back to this.  I'm sick of it."

"Me too," she agreed.  She didn't want the harsh words anymore.  She didn't want each encounter turning into a circle that lead them back here.  It was always a fight, and it was always over the same things.  "I want this over with."

"Fine."  He shrugged.  "That's easy.  Don't come into the diner asking me to loan you a book.  Don't ask me for anything," he warned.  "Just… don't talk to me."

"Okay," she said softly. 

"It's over.  Happy now?" 

For the second time in less than a week, he walked away from her. A sense of finality accompanied him, weighing down his shoulders. For a second, he was certain he had heard her voice. He almost thought she had said no. However, when nothing else reached his ears, he decided that it was only his regret playing tricks on his mind.