A/N: Thanks, as always, for the feedback. This chapter should clear just about everything up. I heart Lee for her wonderful betaing skills, her tendency to smack me over the head because of tenses (it really does make editing more fun), and her near incoherence when making comments about this chapter. Heh.
Chapter Four: A heart that's harder than stone
She searches for the North Star, her body screaming for some type of familiarity in this alien situation. She can't find it; even the Big Dipper is lost among the masses tonight. She sighs inwardly and fidgets, the hood of his car hard and uncomfortable beneath her. Out of the corner of her eye, she looks his way and finds him staring up at the sky. But then he senses her gaze and turns his head, only startling her into looking back up.
She regrets her actions from four nights before, her ultimate moment of weakness that he could not recognize nor turn down. She had been upset, crying, and he had only been trying to help. But then she had given into to that small flame burning bright within her, burgeoning as he touched her.
Now, she is at a loss.
Jess speaks, interrupting her thoughts, asking if she has ever seen 'The Phoenix'. There is a small sense of remembrance, but she shakes her head, unable to fully recall the constellation. He explains its myth to her, the beautiful bird that lives for hundreds of years before bursting into a conflagration, completely consumed. He tells her how a small worm crawls from the detritus, to grow again; begin anew.
She meets his gaze, asking in a strained voice if he can find it tonight. He can't. But it's just as well, she prefers the story over a visual, not needing to see the outline of stars to understand the meaning. Carefully, she sifts through the scattered ashes of their relationship, looking for a clue. Maybe something will come from this. Maybe this is the new beginning she needs.
She props herself up on her elbow. He appears hesitant but doesn't move away. Holding her breath, she leans down to kiss him, and the stars explode.
Blake is charming and charismatic. He has one of those vortex-like personalities that sucks a person in. He seems genuine and maybe he is, but Rory's been around him for so long she can no longer tell. He's very handsome and polite, raised on the firm beliefs of 'etiquette' and 'propriety' but most of all: power. Money is power, and Blake loves money. He certainly has plenty of it, and he doesn't mind spending it.
When she asks, he always delivers. He likes to buy her things, pretty things: pearls, silver and gold. She doesn't like jewelry very much and she told him so, early on in the relationship. He waved off the absurd statement because, after all, "Diamonds are a girls' best friend." It's not as if she can very well complain about being showered with gifts, so she accepts each with a coy smile and a lingering kiss, and drops each new trinket into a jewelry box – most likely never to see the light of day again.
In the beginning, this tradition of gifts was almost a form of bribery, an attempt to gain her admiration and eventually, love. Those three words were whispered long ago in a moment where she lost her head, however, and once they're out there, that's it. That type of declaration holds a vast amount of weight, and cannot so easily be stricken from the record. So when he whispered it back, and kissed her softly, she relented. Whenever he says it, she stands tightlipped, needle pricks of regret poking at her chest, but she repeats it. She always repeats it.
Nowadays she is much more careful about throwing around such words.
Once in a while, though, it'll slip with Jess. Maybe she is. But it's a tangled web of what if's and could have been's and most of all – not's. He's not, she's not, they're not. Who knows where they'd be today if he had never run off to California. Perhaps then the undefined shape of their relationship would have a body, tangible and strong. But he did leave, returning in her sophomore year, doing his best to repent, molding their new relationship into that tired old question of 'maybe'. They flicker between friendship and much more, and there's that line again; thin, and stretched too tightly. She's tired of straddling it.
But right now the issue isn't him. Even though his face is ever-present in the back of her mind, she tries her best to blur his picture when she's out with Blake. She almost hates herself for pretending with Blake, but what they have is not meant to suddenly be broken for some man she used to date. One that is going nowhere, and even though he had made some detour off his self-destructive path, he still isn't much better off.
She tried to end it though, her and Blake, right after she first slept with Jess. She would have simply confessed and apologized to him, hoping to repair the fractures it would undoubtedly cause, if the act had simply stemmed from a loss of self-control brought on by her complete frustration with her boyfriend. But it is more than that. There is possibility and unfinished business left over from years ago. She thinks she wants to explore that. She thinks she wants him.
However, unable to take her problem to Lorelai, Rory had instead voiced her decision to break up with Blake to her grandmother (minus the full reason why). Here, she realized how impossible this would be, how her grandparents wanted her and Blake to last. It was why they had set them up all the way back in her freshman year. Blake is good for her, they said. He's too wonderful to let go!
Rory could only imagine their reaction to the news that the reason she wanted to ditch her Yalie boyfriend was a guy who had broken her heart, and left without a goodbye back in high school. Better to stay with Blake and not disappoint the people she loved, the people who had been financing her education for the past seven years.
Right. The money.
The biting feeling is ubiquitous; and it's stronger whenever she visits for Friday night dinners, or sees them at banquets, parties, anything. They paid for her education, and she owes them. She's in their debt. They are polite, accepting, kind, but she's in their world now. Finally she knows, she understands, what Lorelai has always said. She may love her grandparents, but she never meant to become trapped. Dating Blake is one of the obligations that come along with attending Yale. That's that.
It all seems unfair to her, this term in small print that she overlooked when she signed herself away to them four years ago. The anger that is stirred up at this blots the guilt out, so that when she kisses Jess, she can breathe easy afterwards. Seeing him is almost her revenge, her loophole to all of this, except it's more than that. It's the first layer in something that could be wonderful and amazing unlike back in high school.
But right now, she's with Blake. He is someone she can often only take in small doses, someone she can't picture being with long-term, contradicting their entire relationship. He has an irritating need to be in constant control, and it drives her crazy. Often they collide over the issue. He has a short fuse as well, and when he's angry at someone or something she can sometimes be caught in the crossfire. So they'll fight, and she'll leave, swearing to herself that she's fine. But she almost always dissolves into tears halfway to Jess's apartment, and she doesn't understand why. Arguments with Blake are not that effective. The two of them always make up, although it's a constant headache to deal with. But Jess is always there, and he'll sit there quietly with her, a silent source of comfort that she desperately needs.
Then everything changed, but in the big picture, it's all the same. They do not have each other — not completely. There's always a lurking 'almost'. One that Jess finally grew tired of. He wants all of her, and she simply can't give it… so they fought. She hates him, she loves him, but he only gets to hear the former. But everything is fine now. They've made up. Nothing to worry about…
"Are you listening to me?"
"I'm hanging on your every word," she smiles.
Blake turns his head slightly to look at her, before throwing his attention back to the road. "Of course you are, because I'm simply fascinating," he teases.
"Enthralling."
"Riveting."
"Enchanting."
"You want me to repeat what I just said?" He asks.
"If it's something important, then yes, I suppose that'd be a good idea."
"I swear you have adult ADD."
"Thank you, Blake, may I have another?"
"Not the kind of compliment you were looking for?"
"That wasn't a compliment. That was insulting."
"You're beautiful?"
She pats him on the shoulder playfully, "Better."
"This Friday night is Gwen's birthday. You remember Gwen, right?"
She pauses to flip through a mental catalogue of faces. A list of names accompanies the pictures, but she often has trouble matching them. There's too many, and she doesn't care enough to remember each and every one. Finally, a small amount of recollection surfaces, and she shrugs. "Yup."
"Her birthday is this weekend, so her husband is throwing her a party. Your grandparents are attending —"
"Which means that I'm going…"
"Which then means you're dragging me along too," he jokes.
"That is how it usually works out."
"I figured we could buy her a nice bouquet of flowers, which I will pick up. Last time I asked you to, you showed up flowerless."
"I just forgot them. I didn't mean to," she lies.
"I know, I know. But imagine showing up to your own mother's birthday without a gift."
"Who buys their mother flowers, anyway?"
"Excuse me?" He asks, a hint of annoyance shining through.
"Nothing, don't worry about it. You worry about this weekend, and I'll just show up."
"I always buy her flowers."
"Alright."
"It's what she likes."
"Blake," she says, "I need to get back to the dorm now. I've got that paper to write."
"Already? I wish you had written it earlier."
"Yeah. Me too."
"Hey, why don't we just pick up your books and laptop, and you can finish up at my place?"
"Because I'd rather just go back to my room."
"Are you mad or something?"
"Or something," she mutters.
Her heart flutters as their hands brush when they both reach for the last roll. He grins and says she can have it, and she blushes a thank you. At the opposite end of the table, her grandmother watches this exchange with hope and amusement. This dinner is going much better than she expected, although Lorelai has a permanent frown etched on her face. She doesn't seem to think this set-up is such a genius idea. It doesn't matter, however, because Rory seems smitten, and Blake fell under her blue-eyed spell when they first said hello hours earlier. Part of this arrangement is meant to pull Rory out of the haze that surrounds her; one that has been present since Jess's unceremonious departure. She says she's fine, and she seems it, but you can never be sure sometimes. But it's not just that. Emily thinks they'll make a wonderful match; they'll make each other happy. It's perfect. When Blake first agreed to attend this dinner, he promised he'd ask Rory out. And now to see them interacting, it's almost certain that she'll say yes.
Passion is a key ingredient in any relationship. Safety and certainty come later when the tingles fade and the butterflies die. She runs her fingers down his arm. He's warm, she's cold, but nonetheless, she can feel herself recoiling. Their flame died out long ago, way too early on. He can't make her blush now if he tried.
Then there's Jess. His hands on her shoulders, back, hips, slipping further… Maybe passion is overrated. Blake is certainty; a sure thing. Jess is utterly ambiguous, and eventually even feelings for him will fade. She loves touching him, she loves kissing him, she loves his mouth and hands, but what about everything else? Even when they dated as teenagers, there was that constant worry that the mental aspect of their relationship was too easily overlooked. But they always start out as friends, and even now, he's always there for her — to talk, to listen. Her brow furrows.
Maybe. Maybe she is.
She turns away to hang over the edge of the bed. The faintest hint of his cologne lingers on her pillow from the night before, and she inhales slowly, allowing the drug to sweep her away. She curls into herself, eyes now on her open laptop, resting on her desk. Her paper's finished, has been for the past hour. She sat there and typed while Blake massaged her shoulders, went through her book collection, laid on her bed. He fell asleep somewhere along page five, so upon completion, she took her place next to him. But now she is wide awake and restless.
Quietly, she slips out of bed. She walks out into the common room and picks up the phone. She lies down on the couch, and dials the familiar number. It rings six times before he finally picks up.
"What?" A drowsy voice demands.
"Hi, Jess."
"Rory?"
"Good guess. Did you work tonight?" She asks.
"I did. I just got home a half hour ago, and I was planning on doing this common tradition called sleep…"
"So you're half awake and most likely half drunk," she states.
"That's a serious accusation."
"So you're perfectly sober?"
"I'm a bartender. Coming home sober isn't an option."
"Okay, I was just curious."
"Rory, don't tell me you called just to find out what kind of state of mind I'm in."
"Alright, I won't tell you."
"Geez, it's like…"
"Four in the morning?" She offers.
"I hate you."
"That's nice to know," she says, "because I love you." The words float from her mouth easily, as if she tells him all the time. It's not as hard as she thought it'd be.
"What?"
"I was just lying in bed, and I couldn't sleep, so I was thinking… And I just wanted to call and tell you before I forgot the words."
"Rory," he begins.
"Don't worry about it. It's not like you'll remember this conversation in the morning. Goodnight, Jess," she hangs up before he can say another word.
She heads back to her room, and crawls into bed. Her mind is slower now, not thinking about what she has just done. A lethargic feeling creeps up on her, causing her body to sink deeper into the mattress, and her eyes immediately close. Before sleep fully takes her, she buries her face into her pillow. She breathes in.