Jenna called in a whine.

he said, not looking up from his books. He was studying at her kitchen table, and she had been hovering over him for a good ten minutes.

Let's do something!



Why not?



I have finals too, but you don't see me killing myself over my books.

Without looking up from his book, Jess replied. Yes, but that's because your senior spring has actually been a senior spring. You have gotten into school. He turned the page. You already know you're going to UCLA. You don't have to worry. He scribbled something down in his notebook. I do.

You do not. You have straight A's and amazing reccs for when you apply next year. Even if you fail all of your finals, you'll still be fine.

Jess sighed. My record for this year has to negate two years of absolute shit.

But Jess...



I'm bored... she whined.

So study.

I don't want to... she trailed off and walked over to the window. Come do something with me. Then I promise to be nice and let you study.

Jess was silent.

Come on. Ice cream. We can get ice cream.

Jess didn't look up, but his pen stopped moving, suspended above the page.

Yummy yummy ice cream...

He couldn't breathe. All he could think of was that fateful night back in Stars Hollow. Ever since he had told Jenna about Rory, he had stopped trying to push thoughts of Stars Hollow away. It had become useless. But accepting them didn't help the pain he felt whenever he thought of that place. Of her.



He grunted in response.

What? What is it? Was it something I said?

He tried to get back to studying, but lines and memories from that night and from nights before and after were echoing in his head, making it impossible for him to think of anything else.

Jenna said quietly,

What about her? His voice was lined with cotton.

I said something that made you think of her. Jess, you really need to do something about this. She's running your life and she doesn't even know it.

She isn't running my life, Jess said in a miserable attempt to defend himself.

Oh yeah? The constant stone face the second anyone says anything that reminds you of her? The refusal to say her name? The celibacy? Or how about that book you carry with you everywhere that you never read?

What book? Jess said under his breath, no expression, not wanting to hear the answer.

Jenna knew what he didn't want to hear, so she said it anyway. Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand. It was her favorite, wasn't it?

He slammed his book closed and put it in his backpack.



Fine, let's do something.

Jenna said, following him out, unable to keep up with his steps for at least a block. By the time she finally matched his steps, all signs of sadness were gone from his eyes, and he was back to cracking jokes.

Jess liked masks.