A/N: So, I was going to have this be longer, with more of the Rory/Jess conversation, but I became lazy. Sorry. It's shorter, and (to me) not as good as the last chapter, but it will have to do. I've already begun working on the fourth chapter.

Takes place during Jess' first ep. 'Nick & Nora, Sid & Nancy'.

Disclaimer: Ain't mine.

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I'll leave my room open till sunrise for you
I'll keep my eyes patiently focused on you

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The first thing he notices is that she's beautiful.

He walks into the room, and sees the brunette sitting at her computer desk. He knows she is beautiful without having to realize it, because she isn't breath-takingly georgous, but beautiful in a way that he's never seen before.

She has that sort of hair, that you can almost feel how soft it is without touching it, because you know it must be like silk. And her eyes are blue like the sky and the ocean, and he's hating himself for getting poetic and sappy but he just can't stop thinking, even though it feels like he can't start.

The second is that she's talking to him.

"I'm Rory." She says, casually, and he nods. "Yeah, I figured." His eyes wonder across the room, and his gaze lands upon the shelves of books she has stationed on her wall.

The third is that she's perfect.

"Wow, aren't we hooked on phonics." Rory asks him if he reads and he almost begins to laugh. The answer he gives ("Not much.") is nearly the most untrue thing he could say to her at this moment. He pulls a book down, Nineteen-Eighty Four, and declines her offer to borrow it. He owns two copies.

As she is talking to her mother, he wonders to her large windows. "So, do these open?" Of course he knows they do, because his friend Janet had the same kind of window, and he couldn't even count the number of times he had snuck in or out using them. "Shall we... ?"

His question leaves her wondering, "Shall we what?"

"Bail." He says, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Which is apparently isn't, because she's giving him a funny look. And they talk, and she leaves.

The fourth is that he's fallen.

And he doesn't belong here.