Summary: Post-BNACAP. Rory and Logan are only friends, right? At least they think so. It's safer and simpler this way. But not for long once Rory listens to those pesky inner denials and Logan doesn't listen to those pesky rich guys he calls his best friends.

Disclaimer: I do not own the characters from Gilmore Girls; they are property of the WB, Amy Sherman-Palladino, Hofflund-Polone and Dorothy Drank Here Productions.

A/N: Thanks for the reviews! They definitely help. Instead of studying for an exam, I worked on this super long chapter (three cheers for procrastination!). The banter continues in this chapter, which mainly demonstrates Rory and Logan getting closer, Colin's insight into the R/L "friendship" and introduces a new complication.

Chapter 3: Flirting With Disaster

Logan Huntzberger was hiding from a girl. While uncommon, this was not a new experience for him. He had run from girls before, but that was because those girls were scary, obsessive, Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction types. Rory was hardly intimidating (sans that time she bitched him out for the mock fight he staged in her Philosophy class), she was certainly not in the legion of girls infatuated with him and she probably wasn't intending to boil a rabbit any time soon. She wasn't the cooking type anyhow.

No, he was hiding from Rory because of what he had agreed to last night. Once his hangover had cleared, the memories from the previous twenty-four hours came flooding back. More specifically, the outlandish pact he had made with Rory. Today was doomsday, the day she was supposed to start finding him a more suitable girl, at least in her view.

In hindsight, it was freaking ridiculous. He definitely did not need help finding females to date. He was surviving on his own in that department just fine. And he definitely did not want a girl like Rory. Right?

Yes, he didn't want Rory. Wait, he didn't mean it like that. He didn't want a girl like Rory. There was a distinction.

"What the hell are you mumbling about?" Colin asked as he threw his book down on the coffee table and kicked back on the couch.

Logan ceased his inner deliberations. Had he said all that out loud? "Uh, nothing." He wasn't about to tell Colin or Finn how Rory had prodded him into her matchmaking scheme.

Colin looked at him strangely. "I thought you said you were going to drop by the paper today?"

Yeah, like he'd walk right into the one place where Rory was most likely to frequent. "Decided not to, I'll spare Doyle for one day."

"How incredibly compassionate of you. I ran into Rory earlier, she was looking for you." Colin remarked, not noticing the sudden panic overtaking his friend.

"You did? Where?" Logan inquired.

"In the dining hall, she was with some dark-haired guy."

It was likely Marty since she was good friends with him. "The bartender?"

"Who?"

"Marty. The tall guy who sometimes bartends for us."

"You mean Margarita Marty?"

"Sure."

Colin thought for a moment. "Oh that guy! No."

"She wasn't with Marty?" He was stymied. He thought he knew everyone who was in Rory's social circle, which was rather small and exclusive. There was Marty, Paris and Lane…other than that, Logan knew Rory wasn't particularly close to anyone else.

"Nope, some other guy. Anyway, I told her she could find you here."

His curiosity about Rory's companion was instantly forgotten. "What? She knows where I am? Why did you tell her?"

"Why wouldn't I? It's not like you guys aren't friends, unless there's something you haven't told me. Though it's not exactly a big mystery, pal. If you want to find for a college student, where would they in all likelihood be? Their dorm. Takes a real rocket scientist to figure that one out." Colin sarcastically remarked. "If you were trying to hide from her, you did a real bang-up job."

Logan shot him an aggravated glare as he stood up and headed to his room to grab his jacket and wallet. "You know what? I will go to the paper, shake things up a bit." He certainly wasn't going to hang around like a sitting duck where Rory could find him.

Colin followed him in. "Are you hiding from Rory?"

Logan took his coat from his closet and assumed an innocent expression. "No, why would I do that?"

"I don't know. Maybe you two finally gave into all that sexual tension, had hot, animalistic sex and now you're scared shitless?"

"What sexual tension?"

"For a supposed Casanova, you're an idiot." Colin informed him matter-of-factly. There was a knock on the door and Colin moved to get it.

"Don't answer that!"

"Did you forget your meds today or something?"

"It's probably Rory."

"Probably. Why? Do you not want to see her?" Colin inquired with interest. There was obviously something going on because Logan was behaving very erratically.

Logan paused, deliberating if he should tell Colin the truth. He could. But then Colin would tell Finn and Steph and they'd likely tell the rest of the group (discretion really wasn't their strong suit). And then they'd bug him about Rory and then he'd never hear the end of it. If Rory was going to play matchmaker for him, he planned to limit the potential for humiliation. He knew agreeing to Rory's scheme was going to come back and bite him in the ass. "Never mind, I'll get it."

"Whatever, I have a class to attend."

"Really? How unlike you, Colin."

"Shut up, you're even more notorious for skipping out than I am."

"That I am. Now make yourself scarce."

"Gladly, I don't want to hear you and Gilmore going at it anyway."

"We are not going to have sex! We're just friends." Logan protested. It was unreasonable that he received so much flack over his friendship with Rory. Really, there was nothing too remarkable about it. He liked her company and found her to be witty and fun when she let go a bit. She also fit in well with his friends. Who cared if she was the least bit attractive? He had his share of attractive girl friends, Steph being one of them. He shot Colin a look of warning before opening the front door. If it wasn't Yente herself. "Hey Rory, come on in."

"Thanks." Rory brushed past him into the common room. "Hello again, Colin."

"Gilmore, two run-ins in one day. Can a man get so lucky? I'm going to class, you two be sure to keep it down." Colin grinned as he left.

"What was that about?" Rory asked as she took a seat on the leather couch and dug through her bag.

Logan waved it off. "You know Colin. He's just being his typical jackass self."

"Aren't you generous to your friends."

"I try."

"So, we should get started." She had a notebook and pen ready in her hands and looked at him expectantly.

"On what?"

"You know what."

"Well, my parents aren't expecting a grandchild for at least another three years, but we could start practicing now. We do have the place to ourselves." He smirked. If she was going to push him to date some staid, uptight chick, he wasn't going to make it too easy. He was going to have some fun doing it.

She reddened at his implication. "Shut up. You know very well that's not what I'm talking about."

"Then enlighten me, Ace."

"We agreed yesterday…"

"Uh huh…"

"I said I would set you up with a nice, smart girl and you said yes…"

"Huh, did I really?"

"Logan! Stop being a stubborn prick."

She looked about ready to leap across the couch and stab him in the neck with her pen, so he just smiled a placating smile and kicked his feet up on the table. "I was just kidding around. You really should…"

"Relax. Yes I know you think I'm all overstressed and that I need to learn to take a joke…blah blah blah. I've heard the speech from you many times."

He laughed at her exaggerated eye roll. "Good, at least I know you're internalizing it, but actually putting my advice into action…"

"Stuff it, Huntzberger. This about you this time, not me."

"Fine, we'll get started. You want anything to drink? Oh, what am I talking about, of course you do. I believe we do have coffee."

"Thanks." She inwardly marveled. It was amazing how he could go from infuriating to considerate in thirty seconds flat.

"So, how do we go about this?" Logan questioned from his spot in the small kitchen area.

"I was thinking we could discuss what you would ideally want in a girl, you know physical and personality traits, etc. Maybe more about what you like to do, try to find some common interest points… Then I'll add my input and go about actually finding you someone. I don't know the exact methodology, I'm not an expert at this."

He set down a steaming cup of coffee in front of her and sat down at his place. "You mean you haven't done this before? The way you were selling it to me last night, I would have thought you owned your own matchmaking service."

"Well I'm not a complete novice, I have done this once or twice."

"With positive results? I just want to know the odds for success."

She tilted her head, remembering the great Paris-Tristan debacle in her sophomore year at Chilton. That definitely was not positive, that was an unmitigated disaster. She supposed her assistance with Lane's love life could count. Those generally turned out better… still, it was probably best not to give any details. "Uh, mixed results."

"That bodes well."

"Do you not want to do this?" She asked, frowning.

This was an out. He could say no and this matchmaking plot and all the insanity would go away. They'd just go back to how it was before, occasional one-on-one chats in the hall and in the newsroom and during group outings. She wouldn't have to spend all this time with him plotting and talking and getting to know each other better. Where they'd be alone together. Often. "Umm…"

"Do you not trust me?" She gave him her trademark Bambi face.

He groaned and looked away, his fate was sealed. Damn it. "Sure I do. Who wouldn't trust that innocent mug?"

"Good, I promise to make this as painless as possible. Now tell me what you want in a woman and spare me the gross details of your twisted psyche."

It had been going for an over an hour now. She was agonizingly thorough. With the way she was 'hmming' and jotting down notes, he felt like she was a psychiatrist he should be paying by the hour.

"So, what do you do in your spare time? Aside from drinking yourself into a stupor and planning elaborate Brigade stunts." She prompted.

"I listen to music, I read…"

"Read what?"

"Newspapers mostly. Growing up, my dad would always emphasize the importance of staying informed and ahead of the competition. He'd always read a handful of papers each day. I fell into the same habit."

She noticed the way he stiffened at the mention of his father and wasn't sure if she should read anything into it. The reporter part of her was eager to question him further, but she thought better of it. "Hmm, interesting. Any other hobbies?"

"I play the piano. My parents wanted me to develop some sort of musical skill, you know, a talent to show off at parties. The piano's supposedly refined and high-class. I really wanted to play the guitar, but they didn't think so highly of that. They thought it was too uncouth and more suited for bums in subway stations."

"You wanted to play the guitar?" She blinked skeptically at him.

"Believe it or not, I did."

She tried to imagine Logan Huntzberger, proper, collected society boy strapping on a Fender and jamming to Hendrix. And she couldn't. She giggled at the picture in her head.

He scowled at her laughing form. "Apparently you think the guitar doesn't suit me either."

"I'm sorry, I tried to visualize it, but it doesn't really fit."

"How would I have to look to fit your image of a guitar player?"

"You? First off, I'd scrap the turtlenecks and five hundred dollar loafers. Guitarists don't wear Prada shoes."

"Dave Navarro might."

"True." She conceded. "A guitarist should be more…disheveled, but not in a repulsive way…in a sexy way. Maybe wearing an old band T-shirt, worn-in jeans and Converse shoes…with unruly hair that falls in front of their eyes…"

Logan observed how she seemed to be getting carried away in her description of the perfect drool worthy guitarist. Her eyes were glazed over and she had a wistful smile on her face. Rory's expression was uncannily close to what Finn termed her "utterly orgasmic" look, which was usually seen after she got a coffee fix. "Should I leave you alone now? Do you want to take a cold shower?"

"What!"

He chuckled. "You seemed to be getting a little turned on there."

"I was not!" She indignantly insisted and he raised an eyebrow tauntingly. "I wasn't getting turned on!"

"Is that your type, Ace? A sexily disheveled guitarist? Cause I can trade in the turtlenecks and Prada shoes for an AC/DC shirt and Converse sneakers and lay off the haircuts for a while. Though I'll definitely have to learn how to play the guitar, but hey, I'll do it if that's what floats your boat." Truthfully, he had wondered about the type of guys Rory was into. He had seen Dean that one time outside her grandparents' house and Dean wasn't what he pictured for her. He thought she would be with someone more like himself…or at least a guy who was more well-bred and scholarly. Dean seemed more like the average working class jock. And aside from her latest ex, Rory had never mentioned any of her other past boyfriends. Also, Rory didn't reveal much about her love life during their various drinking games. He had to admit he was curious.

She flushed and looked down at her notes. "Don't try to change the subject, mister. This is supposed to be about you and your type."

"Are we almost finished?"

"Why?"

"This matchmaking session is shaping up to be The Titanic of matchmaking sessions. Way too long and excruciatingly tedious. I think you could write a three thousand-word case study on my dating habits and preferences with all the information you now have. Don't get me wrong, it's nice to know that you're willing to give up a few hours of your free time to better my love life, but can we stop?" He hoped he wasn't sounding too whiny, he was just tired and hungry. Extremely hungry. He had only eaten a late breakfast.

She glanced over her notes and then at her watch. "Yeah, you're right. It's close to six."

"Are you hungry?"

"I'm always hungry." She answered as she began packing up her stuff.

"Do you want to grab a bite? We'll leave the matchmaking alone for awhile and get dinner, how about it?"

"That sounds good, but I can't." She stood up and he followed suit.

"Why not? Sick of my pleasant and delightful company already?"

She grinned and took on a similarly light tone, adding her own Scarlett O'Hara twist. "Why I could never tire of your charm, Mr. Huntzberger."

"How you flatter me. You're going to make me blush."

She rolled her eyes. "That would be the day. Thanks for the offer, but I've got a previous engagement."

"Now I feel slighted."

"Someone's got to put you in your place."

"Of course that someone has to be you."

"I'm the only one who can see through your coy flirtations. It's a finely-honed talent."

He walked her to the door. "I'm hurt…"

"Yeah, I'm really convinced your ego's bruised because I'm unaffected by your persuasive powers. One less duped female in your black book is a great loss I'm sure."

"Hey, I'm a very vulnerable guy."

"Right, and I'm Jessica Simpson."

"If only." He sighed, faking disappointment and then leaned past her to open the door. He hadn't noticed how very close they were until that moment. He was practically on her, their faces only an inch apart. He could feel her breath tickling his neck and her inviting warmth. It would just take one fluid movement and his lips would be on hers…

She wrinkled her nose and slapped him weakly on the arm. Her thought processes had slowed considerably as she realized his near proximity. They were unsettlingly close, so much so, that she had to rest her hand on his upper arm for balance. Yet she didn't move, a telling action on her part. "Does that mean Jessica Simpson's your type? If so, I'm going to have to add it to my notes…" She reached down to her bag to grab her pen and paper.

"I was just kidding." He grasped her soft hand, intending to make her relax, and him by extension. He was feeling incredibly on edge and hoped she couldn't tell. Rory complied somewhat by stopping her movement or any movement for that matter. She went very, very still and then the rambling began.

"Of course, I knew that. Good job, that was extremely humorous. Jerry Seinfeld should really watch his back." She took a breath and focused again, biting her bottom lip as a nervous reaction. She chose to focus on something other than his unnervingly rich brown eyes and clean, agreeable scent. It was all getting far too intimate for her peace of mind. Calmly she chose the rational course, slipping her hand out of his and stepping back, away from him. "I'll look over my notebook, locate your perfect type and try to find some suitable candidates."

"I'll be waiting with bated breath." It seemed he could not tear away his gaze from her delectable mouth. What was wrong with him? He swallowed dryly and looked to her eyes for an indication of what she was thinking. She appeared to find the floor more interesting.

"I should go. See you later."

"Bye, Ace." He leaned against the closed door and sighed, pondering what the hell had just happened. Fuck, he clearly needed to get some if he couldn't handle himself around Rory, his friend. That moment had felt so intimate and very unfriend-like. Actually upon reflection, it was too friendly, too close…too much. Maybe it wasn't Rory or her effect on him, maybe it was just him. Maybe his hormones were out of whack and completely out of control, explaining why he had overly friendly feelings towards his friend. And he was really overusing the word friend.

He sighed again, this time more deeply and concentrated his scattered thoughts. He hadn't gone out on a date in almost two weeks, which was quite unprecedented. That was his problem. Clearly, he needed to remedy that.

What had he even wanted to do again? Oh yeah, get dinner... and apparently, he badly needed a female companion. He picked up his cell and scrolled through his phonebook. "Hey Whitney. How would you feel about joining me for dinner? When? Now. You need an hour? Sure, I'll see you then." Now he had an hour to kill…looked like he'd have to scrounge up a snack in the kitchen to hold him over.

As Rory walked back to her dorm, she had to convince herself that Logan was not about to kiss her. It still felt like a moment. Maybe she had something on her face like an eyelash or a pen mark. That…whatever had happened as she left his place was just a freak incident of…something she could not explain no matter how much she tried.

At the end of the day, it didn't matter. Even if Logan had intended to… nothing would have happened because he was her friend and even that was in its nascent stages. Logan was unabashedly assured of himself, charismatic, wealthy, blond. Her grandparents would absolutely love him, and after the Male Yale party, she was a hundred percent positive they did. Hence, he was so…not her type. Even though she now knew there was some substance behind that impeccably well-preened surface, she would hold no romantic inclinations towards him. And although he was good-looking in a boyish, clean-cut, suave kind of way… He was still Logan Huntzberger, one of the biggest Lotharios on the Eastern Seaboard and heir to a newspaper empire. No, he was not her idea of dating material, but passable for a friend.

She smiled to herself, relieved that her mental anguish had led her to an acceptable conclusion. Her smile widened as she caught sight of the dark-haired guy that was waiting outside her dorm. Ethan Kincaid was in her second-year poetry class and a major literature enthusiast much like herself. In the past few weeks, he had graduated from her in-class debate opponent to her friend and frequent study partner.

"Hey Rory."

"Hi Ethan. Sorry I'm a little late; I was helping out a friend." She fished out her keys and opened the door. "You know you could have waited inside instead of in the hallway."

"Oh, it's fine. I mean Paris invited me in and offered me a beverage, but I didn't want to inconvenience her." He replied sarcastically as he followed her in, carrying his book bag and pizza boxes.

"So she slammed the door in your face…" Rory deduced quickly. Paris wasn't exactly known for throwing out the welcome mat for her friends. She glanced at Paris' closed door, wondering if her roommate planned to go over to Doyle's.

"And told me to get a life. She's not going into politics is she?"

"Pre-med."

"Then I hope they have a course in bedside manner. I really feel for you."

"You're just not used to handling her. I've been her roommate for almost two years now; I'd be stupid not to learn the skills necessary for survival by now. Anyhow, aside from her quirks, she's really a good friend." Rory explained. Her gaze fell to the pizza. "God, I'm starving. Thanks for bringing dinner."

"Well we do have a good system going. You supply the location, I supply the food and we both get through Thompson's Poetry class. Seems like a working arrangement to me."

"Is soda okay with you?" Rory asked as she headed over to the small fridge nestled in the corner of the room.

"Sounds great."

She grabbed two bottles and knocked on Paris' door. "Paris…"

The door abruptly swung open. "What?"

"Are you heading out, or do you want to join us for dinner?" Rory inquired as she passed Ethan his drink.

"As much as I'd love to join you and your friend…" She acerbically drew out the last word and scrunched her brow in distaste, not caring if Rory's study partner was offended. "I told Doyle he had to take me out to dinner."

"You do look nice." Rory complimented. "Does this mean you're establishing the more social aspects of your relationship?"

"I'm trying, the boy is dense." Paris answered as she gathered her coat and headed out the door. "Don't wait up."

"She doesn't beat around the bush, does she?" Ethan asked with a raised eyebrow.

"It's not in her nature." She plopped down on the couch and grabbed a pizza slice. "So I propose that we watch Tobias blue himself before we move onto Byron and Keats."

"Can't argue with that."

"Excellent." She jumped up to put in the Arrested Development DVD with her free hand.

As the opening credits cued up, Ethan watched amused from the corner of his eye as Rory practically inhaled her pizza. "You must be famished."

"That would be an understatement." She mumbled as she seized her second piece.

"Uh, you got a little something…"

She went to pick up a napkin off the coffee table and turned to look at Ethan.

"It's just here…" He gestured to the corner of her mouth and he grinned when she missed it completely. "Let me…" He took the napkin from her and gently removed the offending tomato sauce.

"Thanks. My grandmother would be horrified if she saw my terrible table manners." Rory remarked with a wry smile. Her attention was quickly grabbed by the squabbling of Job and Michael onscreen. Perhaps if she had been more aware, she would have seen the look of admiration on her study partner's features. Maybe it was fortunate she didn't, as Rory did not need more romantic anxiety on her plate. Logan was more than enough.

A/N Next Chapter:

Decided to forgo the dialogue preview, as it's less constraining in case I choose to rewrite scenes. The next part may take a little longer to come out because my summer classes are kicking my ass.

Next chapter will include Rory's first setup for Logan at a party and some Rory/Steph, Rory/Finn scenes.

A few things I was hoping I could get suggestions on:

interactions between Rory and Logan or any other characters? I'm willing to work in a few secondary scenes if they fit with moving along the plot

ideas for Logan's blind dates?

opinions on the Rory/Ethan dynamic?