Chapter 6: Long Nights

"Paris!" Renee Gellar said as she stepped into her daughter's room. "What are you doing? You're not dressed!"

Paris, who was lounging on her bed with her history textbook open in the pretense of studying, looked up curiously. "Dressed for what?"

"The dinner party!" Renee reminded her angrily. "With your father's associates! It's an important dinner that I have been talking about for the past three weeks! Don't you listen?"

"I usually try not to," she mumbled back and then sighed when Renee glared at her. She swung her legs over the bed and stood up grudgingly. "I'll be down in five minutes."

Her mother furrowed her eyebrows and searched her face, as if looking for something. "For the past few days you've been forgetting things, looking like you've been on an acid trip…my God, are you doing drugs, Paris?"

How trite, Paris thought as she unbraided her hair and rolled her eyes. "No, Mother."

Sudden understanding dawned on Renee's features. "It's that boy you're so 'friendly' with. The one that looks like he needs to run a comb through his hair. The produce boy."

"You don't know what you're talking about," she retorted, giving her mother a warning death glare. "Go downstairs and do whatever it is you do and let me dress in peace."

Renee walked to the bedroom door and opened it before turning back to her. "If you're smart, you'll stay away from boys like him. Don't wear that maroon dress your father bought you for missing your last birthday. It makes you look fat."

When her mother left, Paris took a few calming breaths and the continued to get dressed for dinner party. She picked out a simple, knee length black dress – the only dress that she liked from the part of her closet her mother had labeled 'formal wear'. She would have worn the maroon one to spite her mother, but she didn't like it.  And it did make her look fat.

Her nanny came in to help her with her hair but Paris dismissed her, opting to wear it open tonight. Walking over to her dresser, she looked at what she thought was the most disgraceful make-up kit ever and pulled out lip-gloss. "Trace amounts of make-up. Long hair left untamed. A square-cut, black dress. Should make Renee steam for a bit."

Smiling slightly, she exited her room just as the doorbell rang, signaling the arrival of the first guest.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"Hey Jess," Caesar yelled to him from the back of the storeroom. "Wouldya actually do your job and mind the register?" 

"Nobody uses the phrase 'mind the register' this side of the Atlantic," Jess called back to him, wiping his hands on the apron. Sighing, he walked out of the storeroom and to the register, staring at his feet. Without looking up, he asked the customer. "Can I help you?"

"Uh…yeah," a familiar, rough voice said.

Jess' head whipped up and he suppressed a smirk as he stared at Dean. "Yes?"

"Two coffees. Black," the taller boy, answered obviously uncomfortable.

Amused, Jess, rung up the order. "Two, huh? And who is this mystery person who likes their coffee the same way you do?"

"No one," Dean answered, and Jess knew he was keeping his temper in check.

But he'd be damned if that didn't make him want to provoke the other boy more. "No one I know or no one important?"

"No one that's any of your business," he answered tersely. "Where's Luke, anyway?"

"Dinner with Lorelai's parents. Them, him, her, Rory…Tristan."

Dean pursed his lips. "That's just…comfy. Thanks for the 411. But if you think that it's hurting me or making me mad, you're wrong."

Jess studied the other boy's face for a second and could see that even though, Dean flinched at the mention of Tristan's name, there was nothing but annoyance apparent on his face and impatience in his voice. The flinch was because he cared. The flinch was because Rory, his ex-girlfriend, was with a guy that he didn't like. The flinch was the first reaction Jess had when he realized that Rory was into Tristan. Jess nodded slightly. "That'll be 2.15."

Five minutes later, Dean left with a red-haired girl that Jess didn't recognize. Thinking of the particularly odd conversation he had with his long time nemesis, he realized that he'd been as ass.

If he was going to have any more encounters like that tonight, he'd better be prepared.

Briefly he thought of Paris and what she was doing.

He let out a labored sigh. The diner didn't look like it was going to empty any time soon. Jess stared at his watch. It was going to be a long night.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

This was ridiculous. Here she was all dressed up, standing in a corner in her own home, watching as people 'mingled' with each other, smiling and laughing with forced enthusiasm at something someone else was stupidly saying. She wanted to turn around and leave.

She looked down at the glass of champagne that she hadn't tasted in her hands and wondered if anyone would even miss her, notice that she was gone.

"Pretty dull party, huh?" a somewhat male voice said. She turned around to see a short guy who looked oddly familiar. He had russet hair; his head seemed a little too small for his body and his ears a little too big for his head. His eyes were friendly, his smile perky. He went to Chilton, she vaguely remembered. His name was…"Brad."

Right. Debate. Business fair. Somewhat annoying. Fumbling. She managed a tight smile. "Hey."

"You look bored."

She bit her tongue to cut off the sarcastic remark. If he was going to be the only person she could talk to at this party, she wasn't going to mess it up. God, she was really desperate. "So do you."

"I'm not much for parties."

"I wouldn't have guessed."

He gave her a small, knowing smile – as if he knew that she thought he was kind of a…loser. "My parents know yours. My mother thinks it's a pity invite."

"It probably is," Paris replied without thinking. When Brad's face fell slightly, she amended. "What I meant is that I know my mother. And most of the rumors about her are true."

"Oh okay," he said lighting up. "So you're in my physics class."

Was she? "Yeah, I am."

"Yeah, Roberts is a real ringmaster, huh?" he said with a little laugh. When she only smiled politely, he cleared his throat and she saw that his hands were starting to shake. "I think I should check up on my mother."

As he turned to leave, Paris rolled her eyes at her own stupid need to get him to stay, put down her glass on the nearest table and called out to him. "Brad, yeah, Roberts is a jackass. Not as bad a Castillo though. I had him for chemistry last year."

Brad turned around with a goofy smile. "I heard he was bad."

Paris returned his smile and then sighed. "This is so bad."

"I can really leave," he offered.

"Not you," she stated forcefully. "This party."

"You don't want to be here." It was more of a statement than a question. When she looked at him oddly, he clarified. "It's the same look you have when you don't want to be somewhere. Like today in physics."

Her cheeks reddened and she looked at him, eyes boring into his. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"N-nothing," he stammered. "Just that you weren't concentrating in physics today."

"So what if I wasn't concentrating?" Paris exploded. "I have the highest GPA at Chilton! So what if I slip a bit? I'm not a freak, as some people like to believe, it's normal…to want to be somewhere else."

Looking scared, he shrugged and meekly replied. "So what's stopping you?"

"Excuse me?!"

"Why don't you leave? There's no teacher keeping you here. You can go and see that guy…the one you want to go see," he explained backing away from her a bit,

Her eyes narrowed as mortification spread through her. Was she really that obvious? "What are you talking about?"

"Gossip. At Chilton. It's kinda hard not to hear it," he explained nervously, as if he was scared she was going to beat him up. "About you and this guy. A friend of Rory's. I'm sorry. I'll shut up now."

Paris sighed and rubbed her temples. "No, it's okay."

"Are you alright?" he asked, slightly concerned.

"No," she answered with a huff. "I will be when I get out of here. But my mother is like a hawk. She won't let me leave."

"I can help you get out through the backdoor," he said sincerely, as if he had a plan.

She looked at him and smiled. "Let's go."

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

"We're closed." Jess called over his shoulder, when the chimes above the diner door rang while was wiping the counter with a rag. The door clicked and he could still feel the person's presence. "Man, I said we're clo – "

He stopped short when he saw Paris standing in the doorway, clad in a black dress that hugged her body, her hair loose and tumbling like waves past her shoulders, car keys jangling from her hand and a faint smile on her face. He couldn't form any words. She greeted him first. "Hey."

Regaining his composure, he let his eyes rove over her body again before speaking. "Aren't you a few miles south and a few months early for the senior prom?"

She shrugged. "I was hungry. You have the best food. I'm here."

He tapped the watch at his wrists, grinning playfully. "Like I said before, we're closed."

"You can make an exception," she said and walked closer.

"Rules are rules."

"They're made to be broken," she responded and he couldn't believe she was actually flirting him. And doing such a good job with it. "Isn't that you're motto, bad boy?"

He pretended to consider for a second. "What would you like?"

"Whatever's good," she responded eagerly and perched herself on a stool. "I've never eaten at a diner before."

He laughed and made his way around the counter to turn up the grill. "Well, you're in for a treat. We here at Luke's make it a priority to make sure all your culinary needs are fulfilled to hilt."

"Just culinary needs?" she asked with a small smile.

He looked at her, caught off guard by her unusual brazenness. It's the dress, he thought to himself with a small grin. I think it makes her feel as sexy as she looks. He placed a lump of meat on the grill and flattened it with a spatula. Wiping his hands with the rag, he leaned over the counter towards her, and tugged lightly at her hair. "Among others."

She laughed, lightly, before brushing her lips over his. "Can you put in some fries?"

Twenty minutes later, she was munching on a French fry as he filled her in on his evening, Taylor's indecision bout ordering French fries or onion rings, Kirk's almost temper tantrum when he found out they were out of Extra sweetener and the odd encounter with Rory's ex. "I have new respect for Luke."

"Seems like you had a busy night."

"A boring, this-won't-ever-end, moment-of-complete-and-utter-existentialism night," he corrected her as she took a sip of her soda. "But looks like my night took a turn for the better. What about you?"

She sighed. "I forgot my mother planned a dinner party. It was dull, boring and if it hadn't been for Brad I would have gone out of my mind."

He arched an eyebrow, an irrationally stab of jealously hitting him, which only made him more upset. "Brad?"

If Paris caught on to the tone of his voice, she didn't show it. Instead, she shrugged. "A friend from school. He helped me sneak out."

"And he knew you were coming here?"

She looked at him oddly. "He's the one that suggested it."

"Huh." Jess didn't know how to take the last bit of information. So Paris' friends from school knew about him. She was talking about him to her friends.

"Apparently, the Chilton gossip mill is spewing."

"Oh," he stated contemplatively. Interesting.

She wiped her hands with a napkin and looked around the diner. "Do you need help cleaning up?"

He took her plate and glass and shook his head. "I got it covered."

"Okay Heavenly Kid," she teased and slid off the stool. "But while you're working what am I supposed to do? Just thought it would be faster and easier if I helped."

He deposited the dirty dishes in the sink with all the others and then removed black shirt he was wearing over his Metallica T-shirt. He handed it to her. "Wouldn't want you to get that dress dirty. And it even matches."

For the next half an hour, they talked to each other over the whoosh of the water and clattering of the plates while she put up all the chairs and stools on the tables and counter respectively.

"Done," she stated as he put the last dish away. "That was actually…"

"Don't say fun," he warned her, wiping his hands. "Work is never fun."

"I was going to say satisfying," she replied witheringly. "I wouldn't have thought it would be. I guess being raised in privilege…it changes your perspective."

"Warps it, you mean," he kidded and leaned over the counter again, smiling at her. "You look nice."

She blushed. "Thank you."

Before either of them could say anything else, the door chimes jangled again and they both looked up to see who had entered. Not believing his eyes, Jess straightened and looked at the woman intently, not knowing what to say, feeling a sudden sense of dread fill him.

"Hey Jess," Liz Mariano said with a small smile, setting her bags down beside her feet.