Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything up to Jews and Chinese Food is fair game. Past that, it's just where my mind takes over.

Teaser: When Rory and Logan's arrangement goes prematurely sour, his friends take it upon themselves to intervene. Sequel to Keeping it Casual

Story Title: Nothing A Good Friend Wouldn't Do

Chapter Title: Coincidence?

"Gilmore, could I talk to you a minute?"

"Actually, Doyle, I need to get going," Rory tried, but her editor was pulling her back behind her desk. The weekly staff meeting had just broken apart, and she just wanted to get out of the staff room. She had a ton of things to do before her weekly grandparent dinner.

Not to mention she knew what this was about, and she didn't want to discuss it. She was doing her best to ignore it altogether.

"Gilmore, is there something you'd like to share with me?"

She looked at Doyle with a furrowed brow, her arms crossed. "Nice job with the meeting?"

"Do I look stupid to you? Or this a test? Are you testing me?"

"Doyle, are we going to circle this bush a long time?"

"Logan's here."

"I noticed." Her simple response was laughable. Of course she'd noticed. He'd been in the staff room all week, sitting across from her at his desk. He didn't seem to pay any attention to her, he was working busily from the time he arrived to the time he left. He'd respected her wishes to break off their arrangement, not seeing her outside of the newsroom. She wasn't really sure he'd noticed her there, either. She thought his complete inattention was a little extreme.

"He's never here."

"Well, now, obviously that's not true."

"Why is he here?"

"How should I know?"

"Paris said you two, well, you know," Doyle motioned suggestively with his hands, and she made a face.

"Doyle, remember the personal boundary talk we had? I think we might need a refresher."

"He's here, and he's working. He listened at the meeting. It's eerie, and I don't like it."

"Then I suggest you take it up with him. I need to go."

Doyle looked from Rory to Logan, who still sat at his desk, typing furiously. Not fake-typing, but actually typing. It was more than unnerving.

"Fine. Go. Leave me to my Tums."

Rory rolled her eyes, vowing to kill Paris later. It was bad enough she'd had to see Doyle in every state of undress, except, thankfully, a full-frontal. But she had the unfortunate luck of seeing a rear-view—and she didn't wish to repeat this viewing. To have him delving into her private life, or rather her former private life, was unacceptable.

She made her way to the library, to drop off books. She got to the main circulation desk, and pulled them out of her book bag. She leafed through them one by one, making sure she'd not left any notes or bookmarks in them. She'd learned to always check, having lost vital notes in many a book. Not to mention her favorite bookmark.

"Rory, hey!"

She looked up, surprised to see Colin walking towards her. She frowned, immediately putting the cues of the day together in her mind. She'd seen Colin, Finn, and Stephanie across the way when she got coffee this morning. They'd been talking rather conspiratorially. She swore they were stealing looks at her, but she convinced herself that she was just being paranoid. Logan had been showing up the last few days at the Daily News office—in effect scaring the daylights out of Doyle, who was abuzz with what kind of visit he could be expecting from Logan's father. And now this. It all seemed too much to be unrelated.

"Hey, Colin."

"You busy?"

"Uh, sort of. What's up?"

"I was just wondering what you were doing tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure yet. Why?"

"Well, we're going to have a beach party. I was wondering if you'd like to come along."

"With everybody?"

"Specifically with me," he added, smiling at her as he leaned his weight against the circulation desk.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why?"

"Colin, you know why."

"You mean Logan? He's cool with this," he assured her.

"Really?"

"Absolutely. You in?"

She blinked, a little taken aback that Logan was fine with his best friend taking her out. Maybe he wasn't going to be there. Or maybe he was just over it. Maybe she'd read too much into what she'd thought were signs of genuine affection.

"Uh, sure. If you're sure it's okay."

"Great. I'll pick you up around six."

"Great. See you then."

He nodded, turning and leaving the library, and her staring blankly after him. This was going to be easier than he thought.

xxxx

Colin walked into his room, to find Finn wearing long board shorts and staring at his reflection in a mirror. He stopped short, thinking that this was odd, even from his foreign friend.

"Finn, why?"

"I'm trying out my potential looks for the beach party."

"It's going to be forty degrees. We'll have fires going, but it's going to be butt-ass cold. There will be no night-swimming."

Finn's face was overcome with disappointment. "No bikinis?"

"Doubtful."

"I bet Rory would look wonderful in a bikini," he sighed sadly.

"I'm sure. While she will be there tomorrow, I doubt she'll be showing off skin."

"Wait, she said yes? To a date with you?"

Colin nodded, shrugging off his jacket. "She said yes. To a date with me."

"Did you drug her?"

"This is what we wanted, remember?"

"It's just so … disappointing."

"Thank you, for that. Where's Logan?"

"Dunno. He's been mysteriously occupied the last few days."

Colin frowned. "Well, he'll be there tomorrow. And then we'll knock some sense into them."

"Are you sure she even cares about him, I mean, she said yes to a date with you," Finn pointed out.

"After she asked if he was okay with it."

"So?"

"So, if she didn't care about him, she wouldn't have bothered to ask."

"How do you know that?"

"Stephanie told me this morning."

"Right. Our only link to the feminine mind. I wonder if she has an escort for tomorrow," Finn pondered aloud. Colin rolled his eyes, and moved over to the couch, pulling a pillow over his face to block out the light so he could take a nap. He was going to need his strength up for this coming weekend.

AN: Thanks to all who've reviewed and offered encouragement to continue the story.