Title: The Opposite of Logic
Author: Angeleyez
Disclaimer: Not mine. Well, a few are mine. But for the most part… I don't own.
Summary: Rory interns the summer before her senior year in New York City. She runs into a familiar face. An unwanted reunion follows. (Literati)
A/N: If this story seems familiar, it's because you may have read the first two chapters on a different site under a different name ('The Great Fallacies of Human Nature'). All events up to beginning of Season 5 occurred.
Every afternoon without fail, she practically sleepwalked to the subway, exhausted from the long day; she never had enough leftover energy to wander anywhere else. The weekends were for exploration, but even then she didn't leave her apartment without a planned route and a thorough itinerary. She much preferred order to spontaneity, trusting her careful plans to keep her safe and happy. For the past couple of months, it had worked just fine.
But a sense of diminishing time had taken over, leading to this impromptu walk down an unfamiliar street. She had her work jacket slung over her arm, as it was too hot for layers. The August afternoon heat had finally begun to seep into its nights, leading her to tie up her hair in a haphazard bun. A forgotten pencil was stuck behind her ear, her I.D. was attached to her work shirt's pocket, and her tongue still burned from the awful staff room coffee.
A huge sign in a store window caught her eye. It was double the usual poster size, with red lettering bright enough to capture the attention of an onlooker across the street. Stopping to read, she realized it was an advertisement for a sale on ice cream. A very good sale, actually. One that elicited a reaction from her taste buds; her mouth was watering.
The store was tiny and completely ordinary. Located between a pharmacy and a tailor's, it looked to be relatively quiet. She didn't recognize the place, probably having passed it only a few times before. Nevertheless, a quality ice cream sale could not be passed up no matter the painful state of her high heeled feet. Besides, she was determined to experience as much of New York City as she could in the little time she had left.
A tinkling bell announced her presence as she slipped inside, and immediately headed toward the back where – she hoped – the freezer was located. Luckily, her intuition proved correct, and within no time, she was in front of the tons of flavors this small place surprisingly offered. She opened the freezer door, and jumped at the blast of frigid air that immediately began to relieve the sheen of sweat that dotted her forehead. She stood still, enjoying the air as she perused the selection, until a force from behind sent her head first into the ice cream.
"I am so sorry," a heavy voice said, as the speaker pulled her into an upright position.
Rory turned to respond, only to find a barrel of a chest at eye level. The man's green t-shirt charitably read 'Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy' in huge bold letters. Already uncomfortable, she gulped. "It's okay."
"I was backing up, and I didn't see you, and –"
"Really, it's fine," she assured him, craning her neck to meet his eye. His face was as round as it was red, reminding her of an oversized cherry. He even had an Alfalfa going on, a thin sprig of hair to serve as the stem.
"I see you're looking for something to cool you off."
"That I am," she responded.
"Ice cream is an excellent choice. Very cold."
"Yeah, freezing. It's probably why it has 'ice' in the title."
The man let loose a boisterous laugh. Uneasy, she found herself trying to take a step back, but unfortunately, there was nowhere to go.
"Well, I should get back to the, uh, cooling off." She turned back to the freezer.
"I'm looking for some ice cream too. A huge carton of chocolate is what I need to take this heat."
"Chocolate is right over there," she quickly pointed out in her best 'I-need-more-personal-space' voice.
The man thanked her, leering as he did so, and ambled to the next freezer. Seconds later, his voice floated back to her, quieter this time with an out-of-tune flair: "'Cause I saddle up my horse and I ride into the city…'"
She flashed him a dubious glance before returning her eyes to the display.
"'I make a lot of noise cause the girls, they are so pretty…'"
She grabbed a carton of mint chocolate chip, slammed the door shut, and turned on her heel, heading for the front of the store.
The man shouted, falling in step directly behind her. "Hey, I didn't catch your name!"
"I don't have one."
"You don't have a name?" His tone was incredulous.
"My mother thought that giving me a name was like labeling me for life, and she wanted me to grow up free of any barriers," Rory explained, her speed of both speech and movement increasing.
"That's very… free-spirited of her. But what do people call you?"
"Nothing. People usually just point at or poke me. It's kind of tragic. I'm doomed to lifelong therapy because of it." She jumped in line at the nearest cash register, reminding herself that this was exactly why she never wandered off the beaten path.
"That sounds sad."
"It is very sad."
"Well, is there anything I can call you?" he asked, putting a hardened emphasis on the word 'call'.
"You can't –"
"Excuse me, miss?" The female cashier spoke up, as she began to bag the groceries of the elderly gentleman in front of Rory. "There's a free register over there…" She nodded her head in its general direction.
"Oh, thanks."
She made a move to head over, when she heard her male shadow begin to follow.
"Oh, sir? I'll be done in just a moment, why don't you wait right here?" the cashier said.
Rory shot the girl a huge, appreciative smile, and hurried away, leaving her stalker to find new prey to irritate. She reached the checkout just as a customer was paying. Absently, Rory dropped her ice cream on the conveyor belt and checked her watch. After this, she was going straight home.
The customer in front of her finished up, and suddenly it was Rory's turn. She reached into her purse for some cash as a pair of hands swept her purchase across the scanner.
"It's a dollar fifty."
Her head shot up at the voice. Her eyes widened as she took in the too familiar dark-haired boy in front of her. He looked very much the same albeit with shorter hair and a patch of facial hair on his chin that gave him an attractive weathered look. The bored expression did not leave his face as she opened her mouth to respond and failed to come up with a single word.
"It's a dollar fifty," he repeated. "It's two for two bucks if you want to take advantage of the sale. No big deal if you don't."
"Jess, I –"
"Rory, I have customers. Can we do the awkward, heart-wrenching reunion thing later?"
She tensed, dropping the exact change on the counter.
"Paper or plastic?" he asked, handing over her receipt.
"Plastic."
"Thank you for shopping at Myers. Have a fantastic day."
She ripped the bag out of his hand, and stormed out the door without looking back.
XxX
"Hey, whoa, Tornado Rory," Amelia said, holding up her hands as if to withstand the force of her roommate.
"They don't name tornadoes. They name hurricanes," Rory pointed out in a very matter-of-fact tone that clashed with her frenzied state as she tore through the kitchen.
"Fine, Hurricane Rory, calm the hell down. What's with you? After work, you usually resemble a creature from that Michael Jackson video."
"There are tons of Michael Jackson videos."
"Only one with flesh-eating zombies."
"That dance."
"Well, I was referring to their brain dead, slow movement scene, not the dancing or eating of flesh ones."
Rory overturned the plastic bag that up until this point had been resting on the counter where she had dropped it upon coming home. This was, of course, after she had thrown her keys at the bowl where they were usually kept, and kicked her shoes off in the general direction of the wall. Now, the carton hit the surface with a heavy plop, causing Amelia to raise her eyebrows even further at her roommate's irrational borderline violent behavior toward frozen desserts. In a swirl of crinkly plastic, Rory crumpled up the bag and shoved it underneath the counter where the garbage was kept. She leaned back against the refrigerator as if all of this crazy behavior was an everyday thing.
"Bad day at the office?" Amelia guessed, resting her elbows on the counter. "Or do you suspect that the ice cream is plotting against you?"
"Neither," Rory answered neatly.
"So…"
"I was nearly molested by a cowboy."
"The Naked Cowboy?" Amelia asked eagerly.
"No, the huge perverted one that likes to hang out in grocery stores and push unsuspecting girls into freezers."
"Ouch. No wonder you're acting like a crazy bitch. Why don't you sit down… eat some ice cream… stay the hell away from me?"
Rory ignored the girl and began to rummage through the cabinets for a bowl. She was fond of her roommate in the way only forced living arrangements could bring about, but the two were by no means good friends. They weren't even the Paris & Rory definition of friends (the early years, mind you, when the two were still out to get each other). Amelia and Rory were simply two girls in a small shoebox apartment who happened to attend Yale together.
Finding no clean bowls anywhere in sight, Rory slammed the cabinet door shut.
The noised startled Amelia, making her jump. "You really need to calm down."
"And you really need to start doing the dishes when it's your turn. We have no more than three plates, but bowls? We have thousands! Where are they?" Rory asked, suddenly finding her repressed everything bubbling up within her.
"I had Brian over today." For a moment, Amelia donned the dreamy, stars-in-her-eyes expression that Rory had come to hate. The only things missing from the scene were the popping cartoon hearts floating around Amelia's head. "He got hungry, and…"
"Fine." Rory grabbed a spoon out of the silverware drawer along with the ice cream off the counter, and whisked her way into the living room. She fell back onto the couch.
"Hey! I wanted some of that," Amelia whined, watching as Rory dug her way into the already melting dessert. When there was no answer, Amelia sighed and dropped into the adjacent armchair. "Sorry, I forgot I'm not the one who was molested by a cowboy today."
"It's not entirely that," Rory admitted.
"Were there two cowboys?"
"Enough about the cowboys! I…" She shoved a huge spoonful of ice cream into her mouth, feeling very much like a heartbroken teenager. The realization made her sick. She was an adult, damn it! "I ran into an ex-boyfriend."
"Double ouch," Amelia said. "How long have you two been broken up?"
"A little over three years."
"Oh my god, Rory! Three years? Isn't that sufficient time for the awkwardness and hate to fade? Unless…" She lowered her voice and leaned forward. "Unless you're still hung up on him."
"I am not still hung up on him!" Rory glared at her roommate. "It's just… our break-up? Was messy. Like, really, really messy. Imagine the world post a nuclear bomb attack."
"You're exaggerating."
"I wish I were," Rory mumbled, digging further into the carton. "It was just weird seeing him again. And it was uncomfortable. And he was kind of an asshole, although I should be used to that by now." She rubbed her forehead, as if trying to ward off the headache that was this infuriating boy.
Amelia stretched, throwing her feet up on the coffee table. "You're not going to launch into a story about your tumultuous relationship, are you?"
"No, I'll spare you." Rory dropped her spoon inside the carton, where it sank into the softening ice cream.
"Good. Now, why don't you go get some sleep?"
"It's seven-thirty."
"You look tired," Amelia unhelpfully pointed out.
"You're not eating my ice cream. I went through a lot to buy this."
"I'm not going to touch your ice cream! But Brian's coming over again, and…"
"Ew," said Rory, getting to her feet. "Leave it there." She deposited her spoon in the sink, determined not to give in and clean the continuously piling up dishes. She stowed her carton in the freezer.
"I'd put some loud music on if I were you," Amelia warned.
With one last look of disgust, Rory closed herself off in her bedroom. She peeled off her work clothes, now thoroughly stuck to her skin. It was stifling in her room, so she opened the window, careful not to give any neighboring buildings a show. She flipped on the radio and turned it to a suitable volume which would block most everything out, but wouldn't give the people next door a reason to complain. With nothing left to do, she grabbed her latest read off her nightstand and climbed into bed, determined not to think about the level of pathetic-ness that was getting into bed before eight o' clock at night, or the fact that the impossible had occurred and she and Jess had finally crossed paths again after two years.
She would not dwell on this. More than likely, she would never see him again. After all, she would have to be crazy, no, downright insane, to head back down to that grocery store and seek him out.
XxX
"Jess?" The man scratched his chin. It had taken some effort for Rory to finally find this man after asking several of the cashiers when Jess worked, only to have them shrug and tell her that no one by that name worked here. After the repeated dead ends, she had finally asked to see the manager before she realized how absolutely batty she was acting. Now she was fully aware of the weirdness that was coming off her in waves. She didn't even want to see Jess again, yet she had already been in the store a half hour, asking around for him! It was the heat; it had to be the mind-melting heat.
It quickly became apparent that this man was going to be no help. Rory had already repeated Jess's name three times for him, and the only reaction it had elicited was an echoing of the name, and then his leaning forward in a pseudo Rodin's Thinker position. Rory was three seconds from running out the door and down the street, back to the hectic scene that was her workplace. Her lunch break's remaining time was quickly dwindling and the fact that she was even here instead of sipping palatable coffee was still hard for her brain to accept.
"We have a Joe," the man finally decided.
"Oh."
"And a Jeremy. We even have this Jewish kid named Jason, but everyone calls him Jewson." His eyes suddenly bugled out of his head, and he held up his hands in defense. "He likes being called that though. He thought of the name himself! We don't discriminate against religion here at Myers," he explained with a tentative smile. "You're not Jewish, are you?"
"No, no, I'm not. It's just… he has dark hair," Rory explained. "Brown eyes. He scowls a lot, and uses sarcasm as a means of communication…" She trailed off, searching her head for what else she could use to describe him. This was strange though. Here where every employer seemed to know everyone else by name, someone should have caught on by now. Maybe Jess hadn't been here yesterday. Maybe he had been an unfortunate mirage brought on by a sudden heat stroke. Maybe she should be happy about this. After all, why did she even want to see him?
"Olive skin," she finally came up with. "He looks Italian."
"Oh! That quiet Italian kid! Yeah, Eric."
"Eric?" Rory repeated dumbly.
"Wait. Eric… blonde, blue-eyed, talks way too much… Do we have two Eric's?"
"I wouldn't know."
"Hmph. I must be confusing one with the other."
"So, no Jess. Just a case of two Eric's?" Rory asked.
"Sorry, miss."
"You know what? It's okay. It's more than okay. Thank you very much." She shook the man's hand, surprising the hell out of him, before turning and walking at a leisurely pace out of the store. She was cured now! The nagging feeling that she had woken up with this morning was beginning to disperse. There was no need to find Jess. Everything had ended between them years ago, when she had said no and he had walked away. There was nothing left for them to talk about, no reason for them to try to cross the gap that had been growing in their years apart. The bridge connecting them had been burned years ago. And it was destroyed by him when he disappeared time and time again, never giving her a reason why.