A/N: The second chapter was in the other computer, too. That chapter was better than this one, and I can't remember exactly how I wrote it... It wasn't finished or anythibng, but I had a couple scenes and- I hate computers sometimes. But there's good news and bad news. The bad news is I forgot my plot. The good news is I can make a new one. Oh, look, more good news. I'm finally updating and I continue to have more inspiration, because unfortunately (but fortunately for the story) I have yet to move out of this rathole excuse of a town that Jared lives in. I also haven't "lived and learned" enough to be sensible and stay sane. Someday I will move to either Boston, Baltimore or New York, and I will no longer have inspiration for this story, but at the rate I'm going I'll probably also be on social security. So sad. But here's my update. And thank you for the wonderful reviews! They make me so happy! I'm terribly sorry it took so long. And... I've decided to keep it in first person POV, too. I shouldn't, because it might at some point limit what I want to write, but in a story like this it really is more of the thoughts than the descriptions and I think I can probably write Rory realistically. I may write her a bit out of character, but that's because I'm writing Rory with a conscience, unlike the real cheating-Rory. I am not Tom Woolfe, I cannot write stories with characters that even I hate.
So, Trisha, Jared, this one's still inspired by you, although I write for the reviewers, because they rock. (Don't you love how I write to people who will never read this story? I'm such a dork.)
Oh, and if you start to think someone's being stupid... well, you're probably right, but I have a general feel for what I want for this story, and one of the things is some sort of realism, and, like Barney, a moral to the story. At the end of the story (or at least in the middle. I don't know how it will end anymore than you do) I want people to think, "See, that's why you shouldn't cheat." Unless of course I change my mind. That's entirely possible.
Wouldn't it suck if your soulmate was married? Seriously. I didn't write Jess married or Rory married, although it was my original intention to do just that. However, since this is the world of fiction I decided to make it more happy than life. But wouln't it absolutely suck if your soulmate was married? I actually lie awake at night sometimes and wonder if it's possible to get things so cosmically screwed up. People do marry the wrong people all the time, but wouldn't that suck? Sorry, this story tends to make me more pessimistic and dramatic.
I stared at my laptop and sighed, scrolling down. "Crap," I muttered. "Pure crap." I took a sip of my coffee and put it back down on the desk, resting my head on the palm of my hand.
"Honey," Michael said with a sigh.
I grit my teeth. He's not trying to irritate me. "What?" I reply as nicely as I can without being friendly.
"Are you ever going to come to bed? It's after one in the morning."
"Michael, I have a deadline. I cannot come to bed until this piece is right."
"That's what you said last night, Rory. That's why you couldn't watch the movie I rented the night before. Are you ever going to finish the piece?"
"Maybe if you left me alone it would be finished." I took a breath, reminding myself not to be mean. "Look, I promise we will watch a movie tomorrow," I said, hating to say it but knowing I needed to make some sort of compromise.self I couldn't have him.
"Yeah," he muttered, his tone tired, "and then you'll find more work to do before you go to bed."
I knew he was right, but I was too stubborn to admit it. "I have work to do right now, Michael. We can argue tomorrow when this piece is finished and able to be published."
There was a pause and I figured he would sigh and walk dejectedly to the bedroom, like usual, and then I would feel guilty for the next ten minutes.
"Are you happy?" he asked suddenly.
His question caught me off guard and rubbed me the wrong way, so instead of being nice I blew up on him. "God, Micheal, I don't have time for this right now!" I sighed and covered my eyes for a second, standing up. "I need... coffee, or something."
"You have coffee," he said quietly.
"Then I need air." I shoved my chair in and swiftly walked toward the door, not looking at his face.
"Rory," he says quietly, lightly putting a hand on my hip to stop me.
"Not now, Michael," I said, shaking my head and moving past him.
I grabbed my keys and shoved them in the pocket of my sweater, exiting the apartment without looking back. I knew what I would see, my boyfriend with a hurt look on his face because his girlfriend was a faithless whore. Not that he knew that of course. He probably just thought I was mad at him, or that I was on edge because of my deadline. He was very trusting that way. He always made me feel like Macbeth to his Duncan, ready to betray his trust at any moment. And I was. I always betrayed his trust. He would trust me not to fall into Jess' arms. He would expect me to be his good little girlfriend, Rory Gilmore. He could see Jess with his arm around me and he would think it was innocent. Poor Michael. He didn't know me at all, not really, he just had an idea in his head and fooled himself into believing I was it. Sort of like squinting really hard when you look at a picture of the Mona Lisa and telling yourself it was A Starry Night. And he believed it because he wanted to. He loved me. But I didn't love him. I imagine I had loved him at one time, although maybe I just wanted to love him. I never felt the way I felt with Jess when I was with Micheal. I never felt that way with anyone except Jess. My common sense would tell me to leave Michael and be with Jess. But Michael and I had a life together, and Jess had Joan, so even if I wanted him to myself I couldn't have him. So why give up my life and start over? I thought of Jess, lying in bed with Joan in his arms. The image hurt and it made me want to hate him. But I could never hate him. It was my weakest spot. I wanted to be the one curled in his arms, sleeping peacefully, protected. I wanted to wake up next to him. If Jess would leave Joan I would leave Michael, but Jess didn't seem to mind our situation all that much. That annoyed me too. If he loved me he would want me to be with him and him only, wouldn't he? He wouldn't want to share me, to sneak around. But everytime my mind pointed those things out I did what Michael did; I made excuses. I knew that they were excuses, but I, like Michael, convinced myself it was real. Michael lied to himself about the type of person his girlfriend was and I lied to myself about how Jess felt about me.
I sighed and shook my head, trying to clear it. I hated myself for the way I was treating Michael. It wasn't his fault that I didn't want to be with him, and I knew I shouldn't be mean to him. As my mom happily hinted in a recent phone call, Michael was even thinking about marriage. Marriage. My stomach lurched violently at the thought of marrying Michael. I felt that trapped, caged feeling that I often felt with Michael, like a wild animal desperate to get away from the zookeeper. But I wasn't supposed to be a wild animal, and I wasn't supposed to need a zookeeper. That didn't fit the Rory Gilmore profile. Jess was the wild animal, I was more like a poodle. Michael was comfortable. Jess wasn't. I was supposed to be with Michael, not Jess. Everyone knew that. I knew that. Jess had Joan. Jess actually went to meet Joan's parents. Jess hated parents, yet he went with Joan. That sent another wave of tension through my stomach. I really needed to cut back on the coffee, it was starting to eat away at the lining in my stomach. Why else would I keep getting that gnawing feeling in my stomach?
I stopped walking and looked down at my cell phone, biting my lip. I could call Jess. Just to hear his voice. His voice always made my doubts go away.
I found a bench and sat down, looking at the phone. I knew I shouldn't call. He couldn't answer me, all he could do was say hello and maybe okay if I pretended to be a wrong number. I dialed the numbers anyway and put the phone to my ear, hoping he wasn't asleep at the same time I hope he was. I loved his voice when he woke up, and maybe that would get me through the night.
"Hello?" a sleepy female voice answered.
I closed my eyes and flipped the phone shut, putting it down on the bench next to me and hiding my face in my hands.
The next day I was supposed to rent a video. I waited for Jess' shift to be over, watching the clock. I met Jess outside, by his car.
"Hey," he said with a little smile, wrapping his arms around my waist and kissing me.
"Hey," I replied, lingering near his lips.
"Miss me?" he asked teasingly.
"Yes," I replied honestly.
"Did you call last night?" he asked.
I nodded. "Yeah. Sorry."
"It's okay. I tried to get the phone, but she got it first. I was going to call you back but I didn't know if you were at home or what and I couldn't really get away without looking suspicious. Is everything okay?"
"Yeah," I said with another nod. It wasn't a sincere nod, and I wanted him to pick up on that, but he didn't, or if he did he didn't care to ask what was wrong.
"Do you have time to come back to my place?" he asked, still with his arms around me.
It was right on the tip of my tongue to say no, but when I opened my mouth it was a yes that came out.
He smiled and gave me another soft kiss. "Good."
I felt my logical doubts melting like they always did, and I smiled.
"Let's go," he said, resting his hand at the small of my back and gently shoving me toward the car.
Another thing I felt like doing was refusing to sleep with him, however he was very good at changing my mind about that one, and he did it again. However, when he was done making me forget I remembered, like always, and was mad that he made me forget in the first place.
I pulled the blanket up around me and scowled. "I'm mad at you."
He smiled, blatantly amused, and rested all his weight on one shoulder. "Why?"
I frowned at the blanket, hanging seductively over his hip and leaving all of his perfect chest for me to see. That's how he distracted me in the first place, so I pulled the blanket up to his neck. "Keep that there."
He smiled lazily. "If you say so."
"I do." I pulled the blanket around me again. "Now, I'm mad at you."
"Are you?" he asked, moving closer and picking my hand up, bringing it up to his lips and kissing each finger.
"Do not try to sidetrack me, Mr. Mariano. I'm wise to your tricks."
"Yes," he said, smirking, "and you love every last one of them."
"Well, yes. But that is so not the point."
"What is the point?" he asked, kissing my wrist and moving the kisses up my arm.
"That I'm mad at you. And if you'll stop- mm, oh, don't do that," I said, putting a hand on his face and gently pushing him away.
He chuckled and fell back on the bed, looking over at me. "Fine. Yell at me."
My brain formed words but my eyes watched a lock of unruly hair, falling in his eyes. He really was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. The most loveable, too. It was so hard to remember that I had a good reason to be mad at him with him in his playful moods. I reached over and pushed the hair out of his eyes, losing steam. I didn't want to ruin our short time together by bringing up things we both hated to think about. It was so easy to forget when I was with him. It was when I wasn't with him that I was unsafe, unprotected, easily tormented by every thought. But I wasn't alone, I was with him.
I sighed. "Never mind." I leaned over and draped myself across his chest, kissing him on the shoulder. He wrapped his arm around me and I wanted to tell him not to let me go, to keep me with him and solve all of our problems. I wanted to tell him that I needed more, that I needed to be the one he fell asleep with, the one he woke up to in the morning.I needed to be the first one to hear him say good morning, the one to see his messy hair. I needed more than stolen moments, much more. I couldn't stand being part-time anymore, I couldn't stand being the other woman. I needed to be his only woman.
But I couldn't do it. I always chickened out. I was too afraid that if I asked for more I would lose my stolen moments, and I would rather have a little bit of him than none at all.
My mind drifted and I suddenly looked up at him, taking him off guard, and said, "I'm not on birth control."
He raised his eyebrows. "Excuse me?"
"I'm not on birth control," I repeated.
"Okay," he drawled, giving me a questioning look. "What does that mean?"
"It means that the only birth control we're using is condoms, and they are not always proven to be effective."
"Are you trying to tell me something?" he asked.
"I'm just saying there is a chance of pregnancy. What if a condom broke or something like that? I could get pregnant. What would you do if I got pregnant?"
"Are you pregnant?" he asked, sitting up, alarmed.
"No, but what if it happened? What would you do? Would you stay with Joan?"
"Rory, even if you did... get pregnant, how would you know whose it was?"
I inwardly flinched. It was an understandable question, but it hurt all the same. It made me feel like one of those slutty women on Jerry Springer.
"Forget it," I said, shaking my head and rolling off him.
"Rory."
"No, just forget I brought it up. If I did get pregnant I wouldn't tell you anyway," I shot back, knowing -hoping- it would make him inwardly flinch.
He said something but I didn't hear it because I had already slammed the bathroom door shut. I heard him curse and the bed creaked. Then I heard his footsteps and he tried the door, which I had already locked.
"Dammit, Rory, open up the door."
"No," I replied childishly.
"Why did you bring that up? Are you pregnant?"
"Leave me alone, I need to get dressed."
"Rory, answer me."
"I already told you no, Jess, how many times do you need to hear it?"
"Why did you bring it up?" he demanded.
Because it was a secret hope, I thought. Because I had a vague dream that if I got pregnant maybe you would leave Joan and marry me, or at least live with me. Because I thought maybe that would be a way to end this pretend relationship and get a real one.
But I didn't say any of that. I just shook my head and said, "Just forget it, Jess."
"Rory..."
I didn't say anything that time. His voice was softening, he was trailing off; he was giving up. Any minute he would walk away from the door and leave me alone. Nothing had changed, nothing had been solved. If anything one of my hopes had dimmed since he didn't immediately -or even after some nagging- say he would leave Joan and be with me. Instead he asked how he would know it was his. A logical question, but one he never should have asked. I hadn't slept with poor Michael in ages. There was no way any baby I had would be his. But I also thought it was true what I said to Jess in the heat of the moment. If I found out I was pregnant, especially after that pregnancy talk, I probably wouldn't tell him. I would leave Michael or marry him, and raise the baby by myself. I would have to stop seeing Jess, too, so ironically one of my secret hopes would probably make me lose him.
I heard the phone ring and Jess' footsteps over to it.
"Hello?" he answered. "Oh, hey."
It was her. I hated her and I didn't even know her. I looked at the mirror, not in the mirror, but at the mirror. It wasn't my mirror. It was Joan's. I had no right to hate Joan. She could be a nice woman. If anything she should hate me, the other woman. Michael, too. They should all hate me.
I looked down at the sink, defeated. It wasn't Joan I was mad at, it was Jess. No matter how much I tried to blame Joan it was Jess that wouldn't leave, Jess that stayed with her. It was Jess that was cheating, not Joan. Joan was as much a victim in their selfish little secret as Michael.
I sighed and dropped the blanket, grabbing my skirt.
I never rented the movie. What did it really matter? My promise wasn't worth the breath it took me to speak it. Michael didn't even seem all that surprised. He pulled out the Wedding Singer and said we could watch that.
A few days later I was at Jess' work, waiting for him to get off. I sat on a little bench outside and sighed. A woman with red hair was sitting on the bench, too and she looked at me and smiled as she sat down. She looked vaguely familiar but I couldn't place her.
"Hi," she said.
I looked up, surprised. "Oh, hi." I was so used to New Yorkers ignoring you that I forgot some people talked to strangers. She was probably a tourist. Poor thing.
She looked at the book I was holding. "Oh, Al Franken, I love him."
I smiled. "So do I."
"When I first got to New York the cab I took had Al Franken on the taxi sign. I was so excited. I'm such a goof," she said, rolling her eyes.
"When I first got to the city small things excited me, too," I told her. "I guess I've just gotten so used to it I've let the place lose some of its magic."
"The traffic isn't magic," she said. "I hate New York traffic. I won't drive anywhere. I drive my boyfriend nuts, but I make him drive when driving needs to be done. If I got to choose we would walk everywhere, but no."
I nodded. "Mine, too. He was born a New Yorker, so it isn't quite as thrilling to walk or take the subway."
"My boyfriend made fun of me because I bought five of those New York shirts they sell to tourists in Central Park when I got here. I couldn't help it though. I've wanted to come here all my life, and now that I'm finally here I'm going to be supportive of my city, mostly because I love calling New York my city."
I smiled. "I miss being that excited over being here. I hate that I got used to living here."
She chuckled. "I never get used to it. Everytime I walk through Central Park it's magic."
I felt a pang on something. I missed that. I missed those simple times before I had to worry about Jess and Michael. When I first got to New York I would walk around the city just to do it, and I felt free. Then I met Michael and I felt caged. Then I found Jess again, and I felt like going back to the freedom, but my cage was still there. Maybe I needed to dump them both and start over.
"I'm sorry. I know my boyfriend's always telling me to stop talking so much. I forget that not everyone talks as much as I do."
"No, you're fine," I assured her with a smile. "It's nice. Sometimes... I don't know, you forget the simple pleasures, like walking through Central Park. I need to keep those in mind."
"Don't mind me. My boyfriend tells me I'm naive, but I can't help it. Life needs a little magic, and if Central Park does it for you I don't see why you shouldn't do it."
Your boyfriend sounds like a jerk, I felt like telling her, but of course I didn't. I just nodded and smiled.
She sighed and stood up. "Well, I should go in now. It was really nice meeting you."
"You too," I replied honestly with a genuine smile.
She glanced in the window and smiled at me, then she turned to recieve the person coming out the door.
My heart fell, and I was vaguely aware that I should have seen it coming. Of course she looked familiar; I had seen her once before.
"This is the boyfriend I was telling you about," she said in that sweet voice of hers.
It took everything in me to keep some semblance of a smile as I nodded and said hello to Jess.
His eyes widened slightly, for just a brief second. "Hi," he said.
Joan smiled and rested a hand on his chest. "Excuse him, he doesn't talk a lot."
The adoring look she gave Jess cut right to the quick, and I felt like a knife was twisting inside my chest.
"That's okay. Um, I have to go. It was nice meeting you," I lied, standing up and walking away as fast as possible without being considered running.
It was a couple days before Jess finally called me. He apologized, saying Joan had wanted to surprise him. He asked me to come over. I said no. He asked me to please meet him. I finally agreed, but only in a public place. I picked, of all places, Central Park. Joan was wrong, though. There wasn't any magic. Maybe for someone like Joan, naive and fresh and young, even if she was my age, looking at the world and thinking it was great. Not when you're cheating on your boyfriend and the guy your cheating with turns out to be with the sweetest woman in the world.
Jess shoved his hands in his pockets as he walked over to me, leaning against the spot next to me. "Hey."
"Hey," I replied.
He took a breath and sighed at the same time. "So..."
I closed my eyes, letting the wind whip my hair in my face. "Why are you doing this?"
"Doing what?"
"This. Us. Why are you doing this to her? She seems so nice."
"She is nice," he said.
"Then why are you doing it?"
"Why are you doing it to Michael?" he countered. "Michael seems like a relatively nice guy."
"He is," I admitted, my voice shaky.
"I could ask you the same thing, Rory," he said softly.
I opened my eyes for a moment, then closed them again. "Do you love her?"
"Don't do this, Ror," he said, glancing over his shoulder at nothing.
I shook my head, opening my eyes and looking at the ground. "I can't do this anymore. I can't do it to her. You don't love her enough to stay but you don't love me enough to leave, and I can't live in this in between anymore. I can't do it." I shook my head again, putting my hands in the pocket of my zip up sweater. "I'm sorry. I love you, I really do, Jess. But I can't handle the guilt. I can't live like this," I said quietly.
He closed his eyes for a moment and then he looked up at me and nodded slightly, looking away. "It's over then? This is it? Because you met her you've suddenly decided to be self rightous and-"
"Don't," I said, stopping him.
"I don't want to stop, Rory."
"I know. I don't either, not really. But we have to. We're being selfish, Jess. You have a girlfriend and I have a boyfriend, and they are both good people. I can't- I mean, the same bed you two share you take me back to and sneak me out before she gets home. What kind of people do that, Jess?" I took a breath. "I'm sorry, I have to go."
He grabbed my arm as I started to turn away. "Don't go."
I stood there for a second, looking at his hand on my arm. I finally pulled my arm out of his grasp, put my hands in my pockets, and walked away.
A/N: Oh! I think I remembered my plot. I can't remember for sure if it was my plot, but I think it is now. Now I need to remember/think up exactly what happened... Huh. This is turning out to be more Rory, with a side of Jess. That wasn't the original plan. This really is supposed to be Lit, too. It is. Remember, part of the reason it seems so... one sided is because I'm only writing it in Rory's pov. Jess could be having the same feelings, we just don't see it. I'm also going to do something strange for me and ask you to forgive Rory if she seems a bit pathetic. I can see people saying, "Oh, that's out of character, Rory would never do that" blah blah blah, but unless you've recently been in the situation try to excuse her (like all the pining after Jess and being to checken to say anything, etc.). Dumb guys and the dumb situations they put us in can make even the smartest girls stupid. I can assure you I'm not pathetic, and any boyfriend I've ever had would attest to that, yet Jared makes me stupid and pathetic. It happens to the best of us. So, you know, if she annoys you, maybe try to cut her some slack. I didn't exactly write her into the nicest situation, and we've seen how Rory deals with a bad situation. One of the things that ticked me off about the Rory and Dean thing was Logan. Rory's supposedly SO unable to resist Dean, he's supposedly her weakness, yet she's out pining over other guys (again) and of course another guy wants her. Smart girls do not do such stupid things over guys that mean that little to them. Writers, can't live with 'em, can't live without 'em.
Anyway! I'm really done rambling now. Sorry I used you to do it, but everytime I try to talk to my belly-flopper friend she gives me that little I told you so smirk and makes me want to stop talking to her.
Please review and tell me what you think. This chapter is a little bit different... Anyway, hope you enjoyed it.