A/N: This is chapter three. I hope you like it. I really tried to make Emily a bitch; 'cause I really don't like her. I like Richard though. You can probably see that as well. I also named dropped Dr. Hunter S. Thompson as well. The Good Doctor left us last month when he took his own life. RIP., Doc Gonzo, RIP. Anyway, I hope everything was in character. Tell me if it wasn't. I appreciate all your great reviews. You all have a special place in my heart. Again, R/R. Peace and Love — Caroline.

Disclaimer: Must we go through this again? Milo, would you be a dear and . . .

Without further ado . . .

Chapter 3: Until You've Seen This Trash-Can Dream Come True

"And now I know, Spanish Harlem are not just pretty words to say. I thought I knew, but now I know, that rose trees never grow in New York City. Until you've seen this trash-can dream come true, you stand at the edge while people rung you through. I thank the Lord, there's people out there like you . . ."

"Mona Lisas and Mad Hatters"

— Elton John and Bernie Taupin

She loved to watch him read. His eyes intently drinking in every word, as if dying of literary thirst. It was as if he was grasping every single word, taking every phrase into consideration, rewriting them on his heart and mind. He was sitting in a lax position on the Gazebo bench, his legs stretched out, his free arm resting on the wooden crevices.

"What are you reading?" She asked, sitting beside him and putting her weight onto his form.

His eyes, strangely warm, quickly strayed from the words to her face. "One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest." he stated, both nonchalantly and matter-of-factly.

She rolled her eyes. "Ken Kesey again?"

He shrugged his shoulders. "What can I say? I've always had a thing for Nurse Ratched."

"Right. We all know my best friend is Hannibal Lector."

He chuckled. "We all have our oddities. So, Clarice, what are you reading?"

She gave him a toothy grin. "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas." She replied, assuming he would be impressed.

And he was. "Wow. Hunter Thompson?"

"Yep." She said, satisfied with his reaction.

"Interesting. You know they were friends."

She furrowed her brow. "Who?"

"Kesey and Gonzo," he clarified. "Really good friends, in fact."

"Didn't all the Beats hang out at one time or another?" She asked, knowing fully well what the answer was.

"Kinda like the Lost Generation." He supplied.

She grimaced. "Hemingway. Bleck!"

"One day," he began with a smirk, "One day when you least expect it, you're going to pick up The Sun Also Rises or A Farewell to Arms, and the lightbulb inside your head is going to miraculously come on and you'll have an epiphany. Then, you'll finally realize what a genius Ernest really was and actually hear all the lovely things he has to say about you."

She rolled her eyes, picturing that blessed day at the bridge that felt like it was so long ago. "Sure, if I can only figure out just what the hell that man is saying."

He gave her an icy glare. "Must you mock me?"

"Not you just that chauvinist, alcoholic cat-lover whom you call the greatest author of the baby boomer generation even though Fitzgerald and Gertrude Stein were clearly better." She finished with another wide grin, and all he did was glare, "You sure are moody. You've been moody all day. What's wrong?"

"Has the fact that we're going to your grandparent's tonight dawned on you at all?"

She put a hand on his cheek, slightly brushing his stubble with her thumb. "Everything will be fine. We've both grown up. We've got a good, clearly thought-through plan. We'll explain that it's what we both want, and they will both understand."

He huffed, and she could feel his hot breath on her fingertips. "That is, if we aren't having a Swan redux."

She giggled despite his extreme dislike of that night. "I doubt my grandmother detests you that much, John Updike." She was still giggling.

He grunted. "I still regret telling you that."

"What an excuse, though," she nodded, crossing her arms. "Football? Please tell me the day you put on a letterman's jacket so I can take a picture."

He rolled his eyes. "But you like me. You did then, too. Even when I lied to you."

"Call me crazy, but you had me at that utterly ridiculous Hooked on Phonics comment."

His stoic expression turned into a smirk, as if his thoughts were broadcast across his face. "Huh."

And then he kissed her.

The two of them had been in the Diner in their usual spots. He behind the counter, countering her every move, and she sitting on the bar stool begging for coffee and his attention. For a moment, she became distracted, moving her eyesight to the two sitting in the gazebo.

"I'll never understand it," Lorelai declared, turning back to Luke Danes and her coffee, "he's moody, sarcastic, monosyllabic, and has an attitude that would have been made John Bender jealous."

"I don't know either. He's not the most good-looking thing in the world." Luke replied, trying to appease her. Inwardly, knowing good and well why Rory would choose him. Jess made her feel . . .alive.

Lorelai chuckled. "I never doubted his looks."

He furrowed his brow and raised an incredulous eyebrow.

She threw her hands in the air in a V shape. "What? I knew he was hot. When I first met him, I thought he had that whole Billy Crudup thing going for him."

"Are you crushing on my nephew, Mrs. Robinson?"

She grimaced. "God, No! Just because he's good-looking doesn't mean he isn't a pain in the ass."

He chuckled. "Now, I can attest to that, but he sure as hell loves her."

"I hope my parents can see that . . ."

"And past the callous exterior?" He supplied.

She nodded.

The elder man and two women sat their quietly, sipping cocktails. This was typical for a Friday night dinner at the Gilmore house. Lorelai had told her parents that Rory would be there with a guest, she just failed to mention the name of said guest. When the doorbell rang, she knew that everything built up was about to hit the fan.

"I'll get the door." Emily told the maid, rushing through the foyer.

She opened the door to her granddaughter, her hands intertwined with another, kissing passionately. She waved her hand at her daughter, motioning for her to come to the display.

Lorelai just looked to her mother and smirked widely. "Watch and learn."

She mischievously brought her thumb and curled index finger to the back of his neck and thumped him hard. "Son of a bitch!" He cursed loudly against her lips, removing his hand from the small of her back to his neck.

The couple then turned around to see the two elder Gilmore women, one with a smirk plastered on her face, the other with a horrified look of pure shock.

"If I remember correctly, it's Jess, right? It's nice to see you again." Emily replied, severely stoic but always the perfect hostess.

Jess, as per usual, raised an eyebrow and said, "Huh."

Lorelai snorted. "Mom, that's 'Hello, it's nice to see you too.' in slacker."

Rory chuckled. Her mind traveling back to the day in the diner when Jess had first arrived in town. It was also the day of the infamous chalk body on the sidewalk in front of Doose's Market. Taylor was furious. Mia had also come for a visit that day, and Luke introduced her to Jess. Luke had used a variation of the exact same quip. Jess' voice then knocked her out of the reverie.

"I have two jobs," He countered, "I write freelance for the New York Post."

Rory saw her grandmother's eyes soften. "Rory, darling, might I ask what this boy is doing here with you?"

Lorelai interrupted, "Can we please do this inside? I'm starving."

The four of them entered into the Gilmore house and walked into the living room, where Richard Gilmore sat on the sofa sipping on a dirty martini.

"Hi, Grandpa," Rory retreated to his form, kissing him lightly on the cheek, "How are you?"

He smiled. "I'm lovely," He looked at Jess, "I didn't know you were bringing a guest; Rory, introduce us."

Jess swiftly acted, shaking the elder gentleman's hand and introducing himself.

"My," Richard began at the sound of his last name, "That's Italian. Where are you from? Not Connecticut I would assume."

"No, Sir. New York."

A look of realization came over him. "Ah, the Big Apple. Which part? Long Island? Queens?"

"East Village." He stated, matter-of-factly.

"I see,"He started as they made their way to the dinner table, just as the current maid came and told them dinner was ready, "How did you and Rory meet?"

They sat in the usual place settings. Richard at the head of the table. Emily and Lorelai on one side and Rory and Jess on the other. Jess immediately felt like whispering in her ear that they actually got to sit next to each other this time. He then answered Richard's question.

"In Stars Hollow of all places. My mom sent me to live with my Uncle Luke. I had been getting into trouble. I met her my second day there. I was completely smitten."

Rory blushed.

Emily Gilmore's eyes narrowed. "What kind of trouble?"

"Does it really matter? I was seventeen, and it was a long time ago."

"Of course it does." She replied.

He just nodded, biting his cheek and tongue. "Nothing serious."

"Did you go to jail?"

'Are you being pretentious and rude?' He wanted to say. Instead, he said, "A few times." He wanted to be frank and honest.

"For?"

Rory interrupted, "Grandma, Jess didn't come here for an interrogation of his past. You did that the last time we were here."

"Then what did he come here for?" She leaned back into her chair, self-assured that she was finally going to get some answers. She could see that this struck a nerve with her granddaughter. "Rory, I'm concerned. He broke your heart!"

She closed her eyes, taking in a deep breathe. "And we talked about that before . . ."

Emily's brow furrowed. "Before what exactly?"

"I gambled my entire life's savings away on cock fights." Jess quipped.

The two youngest Gilmore's snickered. The eldest Gilmore's were slightly wide-eyed. "In Mexico, too. It's nasty habit!" Lorelai added for extra comic relief.

"Before making another bad joke, could you please answer my question?" Emily continued her inquiry.

"What? Why did I go to jail? Would telling you I robbed a 7/11 suffice?" He crossed his arms. Rory could tell he was annoyed, and placed a comforting hand on his knee under the table.

"Did you steal their Slurpee machine?" Emily chaffed, countering his bad attitude.

Lorelai smirked. This was definitely the sparring match of the century.

"No, just the soda machine. I'm a fan of the Big Gulp."

"My, a burglar and a gambler. Rory's found herself quite the catch. One that would do Kenny Rodgers proud." Richard replied, sarcastically.

"Know when to hold 'em and fold 'em, Sir." Jess countered his sarcasm. No one could beat him. He was the master. Lorelai thought to herself, If only Luke could be here.

Rory sat quiet. The tension was so tight that it could be cut with a knife. How did she know that the night was going to turn for the worse. Her Grandparents were only looking out for her well-being, but sometimes, they took it too far. Her anger was welling. They could not tell her who to date. She was not going to be their minion. That was one of the many things she admired about her mother. Lorelai did not let her parents dictate her life, and she was not going to them rule hers. No, she had to have the courage to tell them what her plans were for the future. Plans that included Jess. And in the middle of their point/counterpoint, she cracked.

"I'm moving in with Jess in New York and transferring to Columbia!"

And the whole world stopped. Emily and Richard looked to their granddaughter as if she had lost her mind. "What? Rory, you can't be serious." Emily said softly, something she had refrained from doing the entire night.

Rory didn't respond so Jess did for her. "She is serious."

"I wasn't talking to you! You need not say anything." Emily exclaimed.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. That was his cue.

"It's been a lovely evening." He replied, sarcasm dripping from his teeth. He got up from the table and headed towards the door.

She gave her grandparents an icy glare and got up to stop him before he could leave the room.

"Baby, where are you going?" She asked, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He sighed loudly. "Ror, I really need a cigarette." He muttered, hopefully only she would hear.

"You don't have to go. Don't let them get to you."

He huffed. "Rory, you know that I love you." She nodded. "Well, despite that, you will always want to please those three people sitting there. Your mother will do whatever you want, but your grandparents want only what they consider is best for you, even though it might not be what you want. I want you to do what you want! I've told you that, but you always want to please them. So, you end up forgetting what you truly want in the process, especially if that's New York, Columbia, or me."

She let his words permeate, and again, brought a hand to his cheek. She then leaned in and kissed him in front of God and the entire Gilmore clan. He finally kissed her back, wrapping his arms around her back, and she ran a hand through his tousled hair. When they parted, he grinned, shocked and surprised, and brought his fingers to his swollen lips.

"That was hot!" He exclaimed, smirking. She just blushed.

"Just a reminder that I love you too. Very much." She paused, biting her lip in thought. "Go home. I know you don't wanna be here. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon."

"Since when did we start reading each other's minds?" He asked.

"I don't know. It's nice though. Seatbelt. Be safe. And my side of the bed had better be empty," Without turning around, she could see her grandmother's eyes dilate, "And call me later. If I don't answer, something is wrong and I'm in danger or in the hospital."

"I'll call. Promise. I love you." He leaned in and kissed her once more. "I love you too."

With that he left for the door, but not before she called out to him, "And you and Rob better not be heading for a bar!"

And he yelled back, "That I can't promise!"

And she could see him smirking widely as he went out the door. She went back and sat down at the table. "So, let's eat."

She saw the looks her grandparents were giving her. "We can't pay for it, Rory." Emily stated.

She turned to them with a glower. "What?"

"If you're moving to New York to be with him, we won't condone it and definitely won't finance it. You'll have to find a way to pay for it on your own." Richard explained.

She just nodded and picked up her salad fork.

Well? I hoped you liked it as much as I loved writing it. Again, R/R. I love and need to hear from all of you. Peace and Love — Caroline.

PS: I swear that Ch. 9 of OSA is coming out very soon. Scout's Honor!