A/N:  Thank you for the feedback.  Huge thanks to Marissa for answering my annoying questions, and in doing so, making me rethink part of this chapter.  Location, location.  Mai, glad you're back to cheer me on and give me advice again.

Chapter Ten

There it was again, one of the few constants in his life.  He didn't always sense it, but it was there, embedded into his subconscious.  It would flare up, however, at moments like this one.  The feeling was small, a pinprick tug in his chest, but it was enough to bring with it the steady flow of irrational anger.  The curve of his mouth as it slipped into a scowl, or worse, a thin line of indifference to cover it up.  Sarcastic words tinted with an extra edge of bitterness.  All reactions, defenses to the feeling of worthlessness that surfaced when he walked into an elegant Hartford mansion, sat inside a classroom listening to lectures on his future, stood outside a private school where he would take a meaningless test.

Most often he could trace the line of inferiority back to Rory, with her unwavering ambition for something better, and her belief that anyone could excel like she did.  When he really thought about it — which he often tried not to do — she was so good at both making him happy, and incredibly pissed off.  He could go from one to the other so quickly, a switch flipped, smile to frown. 

Worse yet, she was dictating his life.  Not on a day-to-day basis, she wasn't purposely controlling him.  But in the grand scheme of things, his decisions seemed to lead back to her.  How often he had been coming or going, his choice made with her in mind.  Leaving after the accident, returning at the beginning of summer.   She couldn't save him from the downward spiral of last spring, but she had gotten him to stay again, go back to school.  Do better.  She stopped him from leaving now, even when weeks passed with an acid silence stretching between them. 

And today, he was standing outside of her old high school because she had smiled at him, laughed with him, told him that it was his decision.  As if she didn't factor in at all.

The night before when he had finally given into Luke's demands, he had never thought to ask where the testing station was.  Since when did location matter?  He had known it wouldn't be at Stars Hollow High; it wasn't offered there.  It didn't matter though, because no matter what classroom he sat in, pencil in hand, calculator under the desk, it was still the same test, the same four hours, the same stiff, bored proctor who couldn't care less that this was supposedly the defining moment of his future.

Fate had to have had a sick sense of humor.  But this was Luke's doing, he had signed him up here.  Maybe it hadn't occurred to his uncle that Chilton would have a negative effect.  That of all the high schools in Connecticut, this was the one that would make him pause, make him reconsider, stir up that old feeling that hurt the most where Rory was concerned.

Jess had never been here himself, only listened to her describe it.  Intimidation, she had said.  On the outside it terrified her, but once she got into the flow, it wasn't so bad.  Of course, it wasn't for her.  This was her kind of place.  This was the type of high school in which its students already had one foot in the Ivy League door.  This was where people went to work hard, to learn, to grow.  This was where failure was unheard of, unacceptable.

Several teenagers milled about around him, hanging around the front entrance.  Everyone was dressed in plain clothes; it was Saturday, after all.  Despite that, he still expected to see a flash of plaid out of the corner of his eye.  A voice in his ear, the tone dripping with false propriety, telling him so sorry, but he didn't belong here.  Can I show you the way out?

There was no wall map, although he was sure if he really looked, he could find some kind of piece of paper with a layout of the school.  He didn't care enough to search.  However, signs had been hung up, room numbers beneath a range of last names.  Mariano.  Fell between Le and Na.  Room 119.

With two pencils, a calculator, his admission ticket, and license in tow, he headed down the hallway in the general direction of the classroom.  It was easy to find, the doors were clearly marked, and in numerological order.  He slipped inside to find several kids already seated.  They paid no attention to him.  Most sat staring off into space, no doubt going over geometric formulas inside their head, reciting vocabulary words under their breath, so rehearsed that they no longer needed flash cards.

A small tag lay on each desk, a last name neatly written on.  His was in the last row, a comforting sign; he always preferred to fade into the background.  He sat down, emptying his pockets onto the surface in front of him.  Immediately, he began to tap his pencil against the wood, his foot hitting the floor to keep time.  A strange unsettled feeling kept him moving, and he hated it.  He was never like this.  He could sit and read for hours without flinching; now, he couldn't sit still.

More teens flooded into room, speaking in hushed, nervous voices.  Eventually, the clock hit eight, and the doors closed.  An elderly woman with graying hair and perfect posture stood up in the front of the room, a packet in hand, ready to give off instructions.  He hated this part, filling out the fields of information, name, birth date, school, would you like to be considered for National Merit Scholar?

His body finally became motionless; his hand and eyes the only things moving.  He listened to the woman, writing in his name, and coloring in the bubbles.  He moved to do his town next, and then his school, not paying attention to order.  The woman's voice turned into undecipherable noise, her words ran together. 

The unsettled feeling remained, along with the anger and inferiority, like he didn't measure up to any of the kids in the room.  He hated that, being judged by his achievements or lack thereof.  No ambition, no effort?  Then, he wasn't worth it.  This test wasn't going to make a difference, not the way Luke thought it would.  This wasn't going to push him toward college; it'd more likely have an opposite effect.  What was this going to prove, anyway?  He read a lot?  He knew had to work a calculator?  So what if he scored well?  The question had never been about his intelligence.

He looked up suddenly, his mind picking up on the quiet.  He had zoned out for the past several minutes, missing the instructions.  Glancing around the room, he found every person with their test book open, pencils flying across the paper, filling in bubbles.  Hands cradled heads, fingers massaged foreheads, worry lines creased brows.  He stared at his desk.  He hadn't gotten much farther than his name. 

He stood up, doing his best to keep quiet, not wanting a dozen pairs of eyes watching him walk to the front of the room.  The woman glanced at him curiously, then stared past him at his empty desk.

"I want to cancel my scores," Jess said, handing over his test and answer booklets.

"You didn't even start."

"Shouldn't be too hard then."

And then he was out there, walking to the parking lot, taking what she had said with him.  He had heard the underlying meaning, what she had wanted to say:  You didn't even try.

Yeah, so what else was new?

--

Somehow, Jess had been able to negotiate a compromise with Luke, in which he would work the Sunday night shift, and then close by himself if he could have the rest of they day off.  Luke's leniency probably had more to do with the fact that Jess had taken the test the day before, then it did with his brilliant bargaining skills. 

When he had returned to the diner on Saturday an hour after the dinner rush, he had simply shrugged and muttered "it was fine" in response to Luke's inquiry.  His uncle had accepted this answer as he wasn't exactly expecting a long detailed response.  He had then yelled at Jess for returning so late, and put him to work immediately.

The tardiness had been done on purpose, a delaying tactic to get his head together, and figure out what he was going to tell the two people who would, without a doubt, ask him about the test.  Lying seemed to be the best way out, because otherwise, he'd have to sit through a lecture in which the word "future" and "nowhere" would be used over and over again. 

But then there was Rory.  He couldn't lie to her, not after everything that had happened, and the progress that had been made.  That was just asking for trouble.  She couldn't be too upset by this, could she?  After all, she had insisted that this was his decision.  She had offered to help him study because Luke was forcing him.  But if at the last minute he decided not to do it, so what?

Still though, he was doing his best to put off the inevitable.  The rest of the weekend passed, and he successfully avoided her, seeing as how his shifts never coincided with the time she ate.  It gave him a week to construct a believable lie, or perfect an explanation.  But each day had passed quickly, a mix of school and work, and he mostly tried to push the disaster of Chilton from his mind.  Before he knew it though, it was Saturday afternoon again, and he was serving her lunch.

"These are really good French fries."

"So I've heard."

"Like, really, really good.  Not too crunchy, but not soggy.  The perfect in-between.  Golden, crispy."

"Geez, Rory, they're just French fries.  That's the seventh time you commented on how good they are."

"Sixth," she corrected him.  "Caesar must be in a real good mood for these to be coming out so well."

"Maybe he got lucky last night," Jess suggested.

She froze, her hand halfway to her mouth, and dropped the French fry back onto the play.  She looked up at him, her nose scrunched in disgust.  "You just get that mental picture too?"

"Yup."

"Your fault."

"I'm aware."

"Hey, have you finished Mystic River yet?"  She asked as she resumed eating.

"Yeah, a few days ago."

"You like it?"

"It was startlingly similar to the first time I read it."  She rolled her eyes, and he continued, "Why?"

"I was wondering if I could borrow it.  I don't have a copy, but I wanted to reread it," she explained.

"How'd you read it the first time?"

"Borrowed it from you."

"You should have kept it."

"Now, that'd be stealing."

"You're catching on," he smirked.

"Please?  The sooner, the better.  I want to see the movie too."  She paused for a second, unsure if she should go on, "I thought maybe you and I could go.  I mean, you wanted to go, and I wanted to go, and then there'd be the two of us each going to the film alone, when we could just go… together."

Movies.  Together.  The two of them out on a… 

"Makes sense."

"I'm a very logical person," she said, smiling.

He returned the gesture with a small half smile of his own, forgetting how it had only taken going to her old high school to remember how different the two of them were, to remember how often she made him feel small.  She never did it on purpose.  She had even told on him weeks ago on Thanksgiving that the issue of him being good enough was never the problem, promised that he was good enough.

He hated bouncing back and forth between enjoying her, and resenting her for making him feel like this.  He wondered if she felt torn as well.  Trusting him, and not.  Getting close, and then distancing herself, afraid he'd hurt her again.  Now, she was sitting here in front of him, wanting to go out with him.  Bridging the gap.  He needed to get over this self-loathing when it came to her.  It was one of the steps in repairing the relationship.

Her cell phone rang, breaking the silence and their eye contact.  She pulled it out of her purse, but paused before she flipped it open.

"Luke's upstairs."

"Thanks," she said.  "Hello?"

"Do you think Sookie would notice if I ran off with Davey?" 

"Hi, Mom."

"He's adorable!  He's all tiny and wrinkly and gurgley.  I want one."

"I thought you wanted a cat," Rory pointed out.

"But babies are so much more fun.  Aww, do you remember when you were a baby?"

"I can't say I do."

"And then you grew up.  Why'd you have to go and do that?"  Lorelai asked.

"I'm sorry.  I should have tried to slow the passage of time.  How selfish and thoughtless of me."

"Oh, I talked to Sookie about Christmas.  She insists on having a big get together, so she can cook.  She's upset that she didn't do much for Thanksgiving because of Davey, so she wants to make up for it now.  So, Christmas Eve, our house, who should we invite?  Sookie, Jackson, Davey, me, you…"

"Lane?  Dave, too.  He'll be in town by then."

"Luke?"

"A lot of begging, pouting, and bribery will be needed, but yeah.  …Jess?"  She suggested, perking Jess's attention.

"There might not be enough room.  We don't want to invite too many people.  We need to be selfish and hoard Sookie's delicious food for ourselves," Lorelai said.

"He and Luke are kind of a package deal, don't you think?"

"He won't agree to come."

"And if he does…"

"He's like the Grinch.  We invite him, and he'll ruin Christmas."

"Not necessarily.  He could just be so quiet, we'll forget he's even there.  Uh-oh, Luke just came in.  He's glaring."

"You're in the diner, using your phone?"

"Yes," Rory answered.

"Wow, you made Luke mad last week, you're making him mad this week... I'm so proud!"

"I have to go.  Bye, Mom."

"Bye babe."

Upon hanging up, Rory immediately blurted out, "Jess said I could."

"Right, blame me, the innocent bystander," Jess muttered.

"Jess, are you even working?"  Luke asked.

"Yes.  But Rory's high maintenance, so I really can't wander too far away."

Luke frowned and then shrugged it off, heading into the kitchen. 

"So, what are you and Lorelai dragging us into?"  Jess asked.

"Christmas Eve dinner."

"Great.  More forced holiday involvement."

"Smiling is required as is Christmas cheer."

"Perfect."

They went back to a comfortable silence, as she continued her meal, and he stood behind the counter, trying not to look idle.  He was about to head out and pour coffee for the customers, so Luke wouldn't bug him again, but she stopped him before he could. 

"You never told me how the test went."

And there it was.  The question.  Who was he kidding?  This wouldn't go well.  Here they were, getting along, the conversation flowing easy, and he was going to ruin it.  Before he could respond however, Kirk walked up to the counter.

"I ordered a tuna fish sandwich a half hour ago," he stated, a certain tone of annoyance creeping in.

"That's been ready for at least ten minutes," Jess explained, gesturing to the plate sitting in front of him.

"Why didn't you bring it over?"

He offered a blank stare.  "Forgot."

Kirk took a seat, and pulled his sandwich closer before taking a bite.  Rory covered her mouth to muffle her laughter, before continuing eating herself.  Jess was about to relax again, grateful that Kirk's coming over had distracted Rory, but then she turned to him, face expectant.

"I heard they're adding a writing section to the SATs next year.  I'm sure you're sorry you missed that," she said.

He opened his mouth to comment, but Kirk cut in, "The SAT?  I took that in high school.  It's not as important as you think.  I only got a 175, but I'm still successful."

Both Rory and Jess frowned at him, confused.  "Kirk, you get 200 points for putting down your name."

"I spelt it wrong."  Rory raised an eyebrow.  "Doesn't Gleason sound like it should have two e's?"  He asked, trying to defend himself.

"Could have a y, too," Jess commented.

"I hope your spelled your name right," Rory said.

"Oh, I did.  M-A-R-E-E-A-N-O."

"Funny," she deadpanned.  "So it wasn't too bad?"

"It was fine," he nodded, his level of discomfort rising. 

"When do you get your scores?  Next weekend, right?"

"Uh, yeah, I can get them online."

"Let me know how you do."

"I don't think I did too great."

"How come?  You didn't fill in random letters, did you?"

"No, nothing like that.  Good idea though," he said, prolonging what he'd have to say eventually.  "I'm not going to have a score.  I didn't take it."

She looked up in surprise.  "What?"

Before he could explain, he heard his uncle behind him, "You're kidding right?  I saw you leave on Saturday.  You told me you took it, you told me it was fine!"

"Yeah, well, I lied.  I opened up the test, and though the first one was a little hard.  Figured, why waste the time if the rest is like that?"

"You really didn't take it?"  Rory asked.  "I can't believe you."

She placed a few dollars onto the counter, and stood up, turning toward the exit.  He stared at her retreating back for a moment, dumbfounded that she was actually walking out on him.  He then headed after her, and grabbed her wrist, spinning her around.

"What is wrong with you?"  He asked, once he had her facing him.

"I can't believe you didn't take it.  You said you would."

"What happened to it being my decision?"

"It was, Jess.  But you decided to take it."

"Yeah, well I changed my mind."

"Great.  So I helped you study for nothing."

"Why are you making such a big deal out of this?"

"You know what?  Fine, I'm being ridiculous.  It was your decision.  But next time, make up your mind before you waste my time."  She pulled her arm away, and went out the door, the bell ringing above her.

Jess turned and saw Luke still standing behind the counter.  "Upstairs."

Jess scowled, but was too pissed off to voice resistance.  He went up to the apartment, Luke behind him, and threw open the door.  Would this have gone better if he had been honest right off the bat?  If Luke hadn't said anything?  Why did she have to be so mad about this?  Why did this have to be such a big deal to her?

"I can't believe her," Jess muttered.  "She's not going to be back in here today.  And tomorrow Lorelai's going to come in alone, ordering for the both of them.  Because it's always my fault.  It's always me screwing up."

"You did mess up this time," Luke said from behind him.

"I don't get why she's mad.  She said she wasn't going to make a big deal out of stuff like this anymore.  It was just a test."

"I thought you were supposed to be smart."

Jess whipped around, annoyed.  "Excuse me?"

"She's not mad because it was the SAT and you didn't take it.  She's mad because you told her, not to mention me, that you would.  And then you didn't."

"We're backing to the lying issue.  Great.  Geez, it's always one step forward, one thousand steps back."

"I'm sure it's more like six, seven hundred."

"You're hilarious.  This is half your fault anyway.  Chilton?  What the hell were you thinking?"

"I signed you up late," Luke explained.  "There was limited space.  I didn't think it'd matter."

"Yeah, well it did."  Jess said, grabbing his coat off his bed.

"Hey!  Where are you going?  We're not done here."

"You can lecture me later," Jess said, walking out of the apartment.

--

"You cannot just walk out of the diner in the middle of an argument," Jess said as soon as Rory opened the door.  She looked shocked to see him at her house, standing on her porch, but she made no move to slam the door in his face.  Good sign.

"I wasn't aware we were fighting.  It was more of you telling me that you lied to me, and me leaving before we started the actual yelling."

"I don't want this to turn into a fight."

"Neither do I," she admitted.  "Why didn't you just take it?  Why do you always have to make everything so difficult?  What was it?  Decided to go somewhere else?  Bookstore?  Movie?"

"I showed up.  I even filled in my name."

"You walked out?"  She asked.

"Something like that.  Can I come in?  It's freezing out here."

"No.  You can't put this off.  I want an explanation."

He sighed.  "Did Luke tell you he signed me up to take it at Chilton?"

"No."

"He did."

"So?  What's the big deal?  I went there."

"I know.  That's the point," he said.

"I'm not following the train of thought here."

"Look, the test isn't going to do anything for me.  No high score is going to suddenly set me on the path to college, or make me work harder.  It's not going to turn me into one of those kids you went to high school with."

She studied him, silent.  "I don't want you like some Chilton student.  A lot of them were scary."

"I'm sorry I didn't take it," he said, giving in. 

An inkling of realization appeared on her face as she thought about what he had said.  Guilt set in, when she pictured him at the private school, turning in his test, walking out the door.  She knew why he had done it.  How often it fell back to this, his insecurity when it came to anything in her world.  And while she hated that he had lied about it, hated that she had doubted him again, there was also the relief that he had fixed this.  Came to her before it got worse.

"I'm sorry you walked out," she replied.

He nodded, and then turned to go, thinking they were finished.  But then she spoke again, "You can come in now."

He stopped just as he reached the stairs and turned.  "What?"

"You said you wanted to come in.  Well…"  She pushed the door further open.  "You can even make me coffee since I didn't get to finish it at the diner."

"That was your own fault, you walked out.  Not exactly the most mature thing to do," he pointed out with a smirk, moving toward her.

"Oh, you want to get started on maturity?"  She asked, her tone light.

"It could make for some interesting conversation," he said, as she closed the door behind them.