Summary: Mid-BIAG. Rory ends the 'no-strings' with Logan and they go back to being friends yet are farther apart than ever. A new arrival in forces Rory to figure out her infatuation with Logan and forces Logan to realize he missed out on something great. Features the usual cast of Yale characters.

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 all the reviews! The new arrival's not Tristan. Sorry if that lets down anyone, but there are a lot of other stories following that path and I have a thing for writing OCs. Plus an OC will tie a bunch of storylines together. It took a bit longer than I expected to put this part out because I wrote it, then rewrote a bunch of scenes and changed it back, then changed some more. It took awhile to fine-tune Rory and Logan's scenes and I'm still not fully satisfied.

Chapter title is a song from Pete Yorn and the story title is from a Rachael Yamagata song. Thanks to Nicole, Lily and Kia for commenting at my LJ, your remarks were especially encouraging.

Chapter 2: Just Another

Rory is browsing in the quaint bookstore just off campus. The prices are cheaper than Yale's, the book editions are older and one of a kind, and the atmosphere's cozier. Her day hasn't been great so far to put it lightly. She slept in, making her fifteen minutes late for class without the help of coffee to get her through. Her pen hadn't worked and she had to rummage through her bag causing the professor to yet again glower at her for disrupting. After that, she had run into this snooty-looking yet familiar blonde girl who had scowled at her like she was veritable scum on the bottom of her shoe. And it seemed that was for absolutely no reason as Rory had apologized incessantly though she wasn't solely at fault. She hoped a visit to the bookstore would help brighten her otherwise dour day.

She scans the voluminous shelves, grinning elatedly when she spots an interesting and rare copy of Dostoyevsky's Notes from the Underground, a book she's been looking for since she took Russian Lit last year. Finally things are looking up. She grabs it, but she's not the only one. A larger hand has a hold on the book as well and the owner of that hand isn't giving up like she had hoped.

Looking up to see who has the same reading needs as her, her eyes collide with a dark blue gaze belonging to a tall guy with brown hair. She's not so immune that she can't admit he's good-looking because he really is in that classically handsome way. While she can appreciate his male beauty, she will not be swayed from her goal. She's not sure if it's because of the extroverted company she's been keeping lately or because of her affinity for books, but she decides to be outspoken and stake a claim before he does, "I saw it first." Niceties be damned, she thinks, tightening her grip on the book.

He quirks an eyebrow challengingly, "Is that so? Any way to substantiate that?" To Rory's dismay, he looks anything but intimidated by her bluntness. He actually looks quite amused. It figures, her mom always said she could never do scary convincingly.

Damn, he's clearly not going to roll over and let her have it. She attempts a different tactic, "Aside from my word, no. But you know what they say about ladies first."

"Then I guess you've also heard that chivalry's dead," he responds with a superior smile that she finds highly irritating. Even more irritating is his stubbornness on holding onto her book.

Why does he want this book so much? To Rory, he doesn't look much like a bibliophile, at least not to the obsessive degree that she is. Instead, he looks like the typical New England snob, more into sailing off of Nantucket than collecting literary rarities (her forte by the way). He looks like the type of guy she has grown to know all too well by now – the loaded, entitled type from powerful families like the Huntzbergers, Vanderbilts or Campbells. She knows she's being judgmental. This guy may be deeper than the Mariana Trench for all she cares, but she's frustrated and wants at least one thing to go her way today. She grits her teeth with renewed determination, "Actually I haven't heard that. Since you're not much for good manners…" He smirks at her acerbic remark. "Perhaps we should settle this another way."

"I agree. The simplest way would be to determine who has the greatest need," he proposes. "So why do you want this particular book?"

She bristles at being questioned for her motives, but responds nonetheless, "I've been searching for this book for a year after taking a class. Yale's bookstore only has shiny new editions and I like old editions. Getting this would complete my Dostoyevsky collection."

"Fair enough reasons."

She turns the tables, "Why do you want it?"

"A love for classic Russian lit isn't reason enough?"

"Not to warrant me handing this book over to you," Rory argues.

"I need it for a class I'm taking right now and I also like old editions," he answers. "Somehow I think my need is more urgent than yours."

"I've been looking for this book for a year," she counters, pulling the book toward her. "The anticipation factor outweighs yours. You can just get a new copy for your class."

"I like old copies."

"Seems like we're at stalemate," Rory expels a sigh that flutters her hair.

"Seems so," he concurs with what seems to be a permanent smirk, a smirk she'd gladly wipe off. "You know I could go all day."

She grimaces, not having the luxury of time and at his unintentional (or is it intentional?) innuendo. She has to give Doyle a final copy of her story for his editing before noon. If she doesn't, then it's assured her hours and hours of investigation and research won't be appearing in the next Yale Daily News. She chooses not to reveal that she can't afford to wrangle with him all day. Doing so would play right into his enemy hands and she's smarter than that. She's read The Art of War and feels fairly certain she can win this particular war.

"Of course that doesn't sound so bad," he begins with a mischievous grin. "The store closes at six, so that gives us… oh, a little under seven hours to get to know each other better and argue over who gets to buy this book."

She quickly decides that he is evil wrapped up in an oh-so-pretty, oh-so-preppy, six-foot-one package. The flimsy string that's holding her composure together snaps at the sight of his smirking, complacent countenance, "Oh, what did I do to deserve this? Is it because of that time I ran a red light? Or cut off that girl at the coffee stand? It must be that time I returned my books to the library late! The book gods would definitely frown upon that transgression."

"Book gods?" He interjects with an incredulous chuckle.

"Hey! Don't interrupt my rant; it's a private matter between the book gods and me. I'm trying to figure out why I'm stuck in this literary purgatory with you, a pigheaded troublemaker hell bent on denying me my one true happiness."

He stares at her rather strange blathering with a wary expression, "You do know that a display of unbridled insanity is not going to make me give up this book."

Rory's adamant that his pretty boy charms aren't going to make her give up the book either. "It's a very good book."

"I clearly got that you were passionate about the book from your mini-diatribe."

"Then why aren't you letting me have it?"

"I need it too. Like I said, I could stand here all day with you. We've already wasted twenty-five minutes."

"Oh my god!" She has exactly fifteen minutes to run to the newsroom to print out her story and present it to Doyle. She's not willing to face his wrath if she misses deadline. After all, she has to face his overbearing lecturing not only in the newsroom but also in her own dorm thanks to Paris's raging hormones. "You're not going to give up anytime soon are you?"

He shakes his head obstinately, "Not a chance. You don't see an early edition book like this in such good condition anymore. I'd be a fool to give it up without a fight."

Rory assesses him for his seriousness and unfortunately concludes that he is very determined. She groans loudly and then very, very reluctantly releases her hold on the prized book with a dark, injurious scowl, "It's your lucky day. If it weren't for an overbearing, time-anal editor, you'd be staying here until closing, mister." She draws out the last six syllables, punctuating her point with evenly delivered jabs to his firm chest.

"Why thank you for that gracious concession," he states, feigning seriousness, though a sliver of his amusement shines through. "I am sorry though, you seem to have really wanted this."

"Whatever gave you that impression?" Rory sarcastically replies glancing covetously at the hardbound book nestled against his side.

He chuckles following her gaze, "How about I make it up to you by buying you a cup of coffee?"

Was he honestly asking her out? After spitefully claiming her book? It was almost funny. Although he hit her weak point, coffee, he had also denied her love of books, which was too grave an offense to overlook. "I really don't think so. It would be sacrilegious to partake in another one of my beloved pleasures with the one who has so cruelly deprived me of Dostoyevsky," she answers rather resentfully. "Besides, I have to go."

"It was nice debating with you," he calls out as she heads for the door. "We must do this again sometime."

Deciding not to flip Smug Bookstore Guy the bird, she hurries off with bigger fish to fry, namely her editor Doyle, who she plans to subtly curse under her breath. After all, it's Doyle's stringent timelines that cost her a rare book and somebody has to be blamed.

"You look happy," Finn remarks as Logan enters the common room. "Get laid?"

"Not yet," Logan replies, setting down his cell on the coffee table after confirming his evening plans. "I do have a date tonight with Annelise Carmichael."

"Nice," Finn grins cheekily. "I was worried about you for awhile there, when things got spotty with Reporter Girl."

Logan faintly smiles, it's about all the emotion he can muster for this topic. Lately, he's been doing everything he would have done before meeting Rory thinking things would go back to normal. He's had nightly dates, slept with many a girl and caroused like the typical wealthy and wanted playboy. It's all the same yet elementally different. "Afraid you'd have to go solo when picking up girls?"

"Deathly. A maverick needs his wingman and Colin just wasn't cutting it. No one's quite as good as you at making me look even more like a superior male specimen," Finn subtly digs, ducking the pillow chucked at him. "Sorry mate, but it's true. So are you and Rory just friends now?"

"That's the word on the street," Logan confirms tersely. They're friendly, but not quite at the comfortable friend stage. He hasn't spent five minutes alone in her company since she called off their agreement. Not that he has made much effort to do so. It's just too hard to go from sleeping with someone to a platonic relationship and Logan's never really become friends with any of his past entanglements. He never wanted to, nor did he need to. But there is another factor with Rory that complicates it absolutely. He's afraid that if he spends time with Rory, he won't be able to handle just friendship. He's never been good with temptation, with having something he wants in his reach yet off-limits to him. But that's exactly how it is now.

"I like Rory," Finn remarks casually. "She's a great girl…hey, now that you're not seeing her, do you think I could…" Seeing Logan's glower, his sentence trails off. He wasn't serious about pursuing Rory, he just wanted to test Logan's possessiveness when it came to the brunette. It's clear to him now that Logan is still very invested in Rory despite indications otherwise. "Never mind, evidently that's off limits. Forget I said anything."

"It's forgotten," Logan says, though they both know he's fibbing.

"So I guess you're not up for a pub night then? Steph's organizing and she promised to get Rosemary to come."

"I've got other plans that probably won't include a stop by the pub. Dinner then a nightcap," Logan grins wolfishly, leaving no room to misinterpret what he was implying.

"You sly dog," Finn punches his shoulder playfully. "Looks like you're back into the swing of things."

"What do you mean?" He runs his hand through his hair, fixing Finn with a nonchalant look though he's fully aware of where the conversation is headed.

"I mean that you're back to your usual schedule of dates. A different girl at lunch, then dinner… You went through an unusual period there when you were all about Rory," Finn observes. "Not that I disapprove, I like Rory."

"So you've said," Logan briskly responds. "I suppose you're talking about those two weeks after your birthday party."

"That I am, mate."

His behavior was in response to Rory's date with Robert, something he abhors thinking about even now. The truth was he couldn't stand seeing her with another guy - it wasn't a fair reaction on his part considering he was regularly seeing other girls – but his jealous impulses were just too intense to ignore. After that he had spent every minute he could with her and hadn't felt claustrophobic or weary of her company. That was the scariest thing. He made it a habit to distance himself physically, emotionally and otherwise from his conquests so he wouldn't become dependent or attached. Only with Rory, that wasn't the case. He was too invested, he cared too much. So he did the only thing that made sense, he pushed her away.

-

Logan stared at his cell phone, the small device weighing heavily in his palm. His finger hovered over the '8' button. The task was simple. He would call her and tell her that he was in New York catching up with friends from Princeton and that he'd be away for a week at the most. It would be a quick exchange explaining his absence and it would ensure she didn't feel like he was leaving her in the lurch. But it was much more than that, it was rife with implications that what he had with her was more than a mutually beneficial arrangement. It seemed to breach the uncomplicated obligations they had agreed to, taking it to a more serious level.

"Well I never thought I'd see the day."

Logan glanced up to see Blake Hamilton standing in the doorway with a knowing smirk. They had grown up together in similar circumstances and were understandably very alike. Blake was a New England-bred blueblood with enviable looks and an even more enviable talent with the opposite sex. They both shared an aversion to commitment and an inclination to defy their parents. The year Logan had spent at Andover had solidified their bond and when they all headed to different colleges - Blake to Princeton and he to Yale - they vowed to have, at the very least, a yearly get-together for the boys. Thus explaining why he was now in New York for their traditional week of leisure and decadence.

"And what day is that?"

"Logan Huntzberger, ladies man extraordinaire, chained to his phone… now tell me, what chick has you so pussy whipped?" Of all the qualities Blake had in common with him, tact was not one of them.

Logan frowned, a denial quick on his lips, "There is no chick."

Blake gave him a look that clearly conveyed he didn't believe his BS, "Right, like I'm going to believe that. Imagine my surprise when I heard you were especially infatuated with this one girl. Please tell me it isn't true, man."

"It's not. I would check your sources." He could only deny Blake's remarks; he himself hardly understood his atypical attachment to Rory. And he wasn't about to try to explain it all to Blake, who was perhaps more of a cad than he was.

"Even if my sources are Colin and Finn?" Blake still appeared skeptical and continued on patronizingly. "It's fine if you do like this girl, I mean maybe you could become her boyfriend, escort her to charity galas and meet her folks. Your parents would love it if you tamed your playboy ways and settled down with a nice society girl ready to bear the future Huntzberger heirs… She is a nice society girl right?" Logan chose not to answer and just glared at Blake steadily. He was challenged with an equally impassive yet amused stare. "So, are you going to report in to this girl and tell her your whereabouts like a good boyfriend or are you going to hurry the hell up so we can go to the club? The sooner we get there the sooner I can get laid."

Logan rose to his feet, unwilling to show that Blake's comments had unnerved him or any weakness for that matter, "You are lucky I can tolerate your annoying ass, Hamilton." He turned off his cell phone and pocketed it, the call to Rory abandoned. He was not going to prove Blake right.

"Finally! Let's go, the guys are all waiting for you."

-

Logan shrugs plainly, "I admit that was out of character."

"Well at least you can acknowledge that," Finn states sardonically and for a moment, he looks like he wants to say more but he rises to his feet with an arcane smile instead. "Good luck with Annelise tonight."

"Where are you going?"

"It's nap time, mate. I must restore my energy to party hard this evening. Besides, it takes a lot of beauty sleep to look this good."

Rory is seated next to Paris in the front row, awaiting the arrival of their International Relations professor. Though she's listening to Paris rant about Doyle and his insecurities, the feeling that someone's watching her distracts her. She glances around the room, only to settle on a familiar guy looking straight at her. Of course it has to be the moron who stole the Dostoyevsky from right under her at the bookstore yesterday. She's not as surprised as she should be considering she also saw him at the library while she studied Philosophy and by her favorite coffee cart not even twenty minutes ago.

Has he always been in her class? She concludes that it's very possible.

So why hadn't she noticed his presence in her class before? The answer's all too obvious to her. She was so preoccupied with Logan that she hadn't the time to consider other guys. Now free from her attachment to Logan she supposes she can, but whether she wants to is an entirely different issue.

Overcoming her momentary shock at seeing Bookstore Guy across the room, she glares at him, still sore over losing her book find. Reminiscent of the first time she saw him, he looks effortlessly perfect like he stepped out of a Polo ad in a button-up shirt and khakis. He grins one of those 'you know you want me' grins and sends her a not-so-subtle wink on top of it.

"That golden boy? Please don't tell me that's now your type," Paris scoffs with disgust, her voice snapping Rory back to attention. "Sure he's a little different from Huntzberger. He's more rugged and received a prep school education overseas. He drives a different luxury car and vacations in the Hamptons, not the Vineyard. But believe me when I say all rich, cocky heirs are bred from the same brimming, filthy cesspool."

Rory's quick to protest, "I am not interested in him." The way Paris was painting this guy wasn't flattering and she wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. She couldn't possibly consider a guy like him, a guy who is in all probability exactly like Logan. A guy who could hurt her like Logan had. No, there was no way she was going to let that happen.

"Sorry, I guess my twenty-twenty vision mistook Nicholas Pierce's wink to be for the three hundred-pound linebacker seated behind you," Paris dryly responds.

"Maybe it was. I knew he was too impeccably groomed to be straight," Rory wittily answers, averting her gaze from the dark-haired guy to her notebook. "Besides, I don't even know him! I didn't even know his name was Nicholas Pierce until you just mentioned it."

"I'm surprised you don't know who he is. His family's well acquainted with your grandparents," Paris begins.

"I've never formally met him before," Rory states. "I ran into him at the bookstore yesterday and we had a squabble over a book, nothing big."

"If it was nothing big then why is he still looking at you?"

"How should I know?" Rory replies, stealing a glance to verify that Nicholas is indeed still staring her way. She turns back to Paris, who is staring at her questioningly. "What?"

"You do know about him, right?"

"What about him?" Rory sighs in resignation, accepting the fact that Paris is not going to drop this topic.

Paris gives her a 'you're kidding' expression and continues, "Nicholas Pierce, heir to Pierce Industries. His mother is one of the Landry daughters - that's Landry as in Landry Investments. His uncle is governor of Massachusetts, his grandfather's a senator…"

"Okay Paris. Why are you giving me a rundown of his family tree?"

"I'm preparing you."

"For what?"

"If Nicholas Pierce's fixation on you is any indication, you'll probably be seeing him a lot more in the near future. He's obviously tapped you."

Paris's phrasing is uncannily identical to Marty's remarks about Logan, causing Rory to feel that same defensiveness, "You're insane."

"Like I haven't heard that one before," Paris grumbles and then proceeds to mutter something about denial under her breath as the professor walks in to start the lecture, effectively ending any further discussion about Nicholas Pierce.

Rory can't help stealing another look at him. He's now focused on the front of the classroom, pen poised to take notes like a good college student. Paris's evaluation of him swirls in her head. Golden boy. Rich, cocky heir. She studies him with growing dislike. No, she's not going to let him barge into her life like she had let Logan.

Logan knocks on Annelise's door promptly at seven-thirty, she opens it a moment later dressed to kill in a tight, revealing red number. She's more of his usual type than Rory. She is blonde, fast, easy and occasionally amusing. She could also be intelligent, he's not quite sure, any trace of intellect is well concealed behind a superficial, ditzy façade designed to snag a prime trust fund boy like himself.

"Right on time," Annelise smiles, brushing a kiss across his lips.

"You clean up very nicely," Logan compliments, appraising her appearance on autopilot. He can't help feeling that she's too fake, too powdered, to be really attractive. But the flattery rolls off his tongue, it's second nature by now to be charming and attentive.

"Thank you," she states, closing her door and grasping his hand tightly. "You know I'm surprised you called."

"Oh, why's that?"

"I've been hearing some rumors that you might be off the market."

"Clearly, that's not true," Logan says with a taut, forced smile. News of his heightened and unusual attachment to Rory had led to gossip that he was considering commitment, but that all ended with Rory breaking things off. He can't say with a hundred percent certainty that he would have tried to be Rory's boyfriend with strings and all, however he didn't want to let her go. He only did because of her resolute firmness and the knowledge that he couldn't give her exactly what she wanted. Things probably would have ended badly and he didn't want to be responsible for hurting her, which was a concern not usually part of his dating M.O.

"Clearly," Annelise echoes happily, melding herself to his side in a show of ownership. "So I was thinking in celebration of those rumors not being true…"

"Yes?" He prompts, deeming her feigned coyness as aggravating rather than appealing as she had intended.

"Maybe we should skip straight to dessert," she implies sultrily, skimming a finger down his chest in an oh-so suggestive manner.

He grips her hand as it nears his waistline and grins charmingly to distract her. He decides to appeal to her vanity, a tried and true tactic with this girl, "Annelise, we have lots of time for that later. Besides, these dinner reservations are for a very exclusive restaurant and I'm certain you didn't get all dolled up just to stay in." He thinks it may be very wise to take her up on her suggestion because he's not sure he can get through a dinner with her insipid company. Was she always this uninteresting? Of course finding an interesting girl was not exactly at the top of his list – but her grating personality seems to have multiplied tenfold in his eyes.

"You're right, Logan. You're always right," she coos, pulling him toward his shiny convertible.

He sighs as he opens her door, wondering if the next few hours are going to be as unbearable as the past five minutes. For his sake rather the sake of his sanity, he hopes not.

The usual gang is at the pub tonight, give or take a few. Among the familiar crowd of Yale's best and brightest socialites is Juliet Lindemann, who's there with her best friend, Rosemary Miller. Rory notes the close eye Finn's keeping on the redhead with a laugh. She had to give Finn credit for his persistence. Robert Barnett catches her eye, but she looks away quickly. She's not quite so amused by his persistence. It seems the news that she's no longer in Logan's rotation had spread and since then, Robert's been trying to talk to her. But thus far, she's been successful in rebuffing his advances.

There is one notable absence from tonight's festivities. The fact that Logan isn't there does not escape Rory's notice. She knows he's probably on a date, she deduced this from the care Finn, Stephanie and Colin have taken in not mentioning Logan at all. He has been dating quite regularly whereas she has completely abstained (as was the pattern even during their agreement), opting to be more cautious before moving on. She intends not to repeat the mistake of becoming infatuated with someone who can never be hers alone.

Of course the realization that Logan couldn't be who she wanted him to be was distressing but ultimately not surprising. He had dutifully apprised her of his reluctance to commit from the beginning, she mainly blames herself for getting too emotionally involved, and for deluding herself into believing their casual relationship could blossom into more. Though she tries to believe she is more culpable for expecting too much from Logan, she can't help but wonder why she wasn't enough for him.She alsocan't help but resent him slightly because he seems to have come out unscathed while she bears the scars of failed affection. But at least she is nowwell aware who she is and what she needs. She is a 'girlfriend' girl through and through. No more no-strings deals for her anymore. No more imprudent risks with her heart. It took a few bouts of jealousy, a week of being ignored and frat boy-like puking over a toilet to hammer that home. She likes to think she learns from her past missteps and will be wiser the next time.

"How about a drink?" Finn offers with a kind smile, breaking her mindless reverie. Ever since she had ended her arrangement with Logan, she had gotten closer with Finn, Colin and Stephanie who hadn't let her drift away from them. For that she was glad as the three of them were very endearing and she genuinely enjoyed their company.

"Sure," Rory agrees gratefully. She'll have a drink but not overdo it, she's conscious of her limits. The pub's packed to the rafters tonight and the wait would likely be long. But Finn had connections and would probably manage to get drinks in no time.

"I'll surprise you," he remarks, standing up, only to have Stephanie slump down in his vacated chair.

"Give me alcohol," Stephanie sulkily demands.

"You're stealing my lines, darling," Finn chortles for a moment then withers under her trademark Bergdorf glare. "Now that look's just unattractive, love. I'll be back in a few."

Rory can't help but inquire, "Why the long face?" As long as she's known Stephanie, she has always been bubbly and energetic even at her worst lows.

"Two words: Wes Grayson," Stephanie sighs rather dramatically, propping her chin up on her hands. "A guy I've been in lust with for a loooong time. I personally invited him with the implied promise of a hook up and he's a no-show. I mean, his best friend's here, but no Wes."

"Who's his best friend?"

"Brown hair, blue eyes," Stephanie points out. "The guy talking to Colin at the bar."

Rory looks up, instantly recognizing Nicholas Pierce. She buries her face in her hands and groans. Did fate have it in for her? She's never seen this guy before in her life and in a span of two days, runs into him like five times. What are the odds?

"Maybe I should go talk to him and find out why Wes didn't come," Stephanie ponders aloud, ignorant of Rory's disgruntled glare directed towards Colin's friend.

Rory would usually back up that plan, but doesn't want to encourage anything that would bring Nicholas Pierce into her company, "Maybe you should."

"Would that seem too desperate?"

"Maybe."

"What's with noncommittal-Rory tonight? You're usually so good in doling out advice," Stephanie observes, turning her attention on Rory.

"It's nothing," Rory waves it off.

"Is it about Logan?"

Right, that would be a logical conclusion on Stephanie's part. But surprisingly since Rory noticed Nicholas's presence, her thoughts have hardly settled on Logan, "No, not at all. You know me and Logan are friends."

"Sure, being around you two is more awkward than being at a grade school dance," Stephanie scoffs. "You can't even get within three feet of him without getting all weird."

"We just haven't found that friend rhythm yet, we'll get there," Rory assures though she was wondering the same thing. While Logan agreed to be friends, they were more distant than ever and she had to admit she missed his spending time with him. She has been hesitant to do so though because she's not sure if she can completely shelve her feelings for him and try to be simply platonic. Plus she doesn't fancy herself a masochist and it would be downright painful to subject herself to seeing Logan with other girls.

"Good, I'd hate to have to ostracize Logan from our tight-knit group," Stephanie grins, looking much like her usual cheerful self. "That would be quite a shame considering I've known him since before we could talk."

Rory returns her smile, glad that Stephanie thinks so highly of their friendship.

"Ladies, here are your drinks," Finn arrives bearing a tray laden with various alcoholic beverages.

"Thank god!" Stephanie exclaims, grabbing a blue-tinted drink with vigor.

"Pace yourself, Steph, the night is young," Colin warns as he joins the table, followed by none other than Nicholas.

Rory feels like sinking into the floor as Nicholas's gaze settles on her. She busies herself with selecting a drink from the assortment Finn has collected to avoid his scrutiny. She opts for a tequila shot and downs it quickly, needing the liquid courage. Somehow Nicholas is sitting right across from her and every time she looks up, their eyes collide.

"So Nicholas, where's Wes? I thought that wanker said he was up for tonight," Finn opens. Rory notices the very intrigued expression on Stephanie's face.

Nicholas finally looks away from Rory to address Finn, "His parents dropped in unexpectedly or else he'd be here."

Stephanie suddenly appears reenergized once again after receiving the undoubtedly satisfying reason explaining her crush's nonattendance. She breezily states, "That's too bad. Hey Nicholas, you haven't been introduced to Rory yet."

"Not yet," Nicholas echoes, a hint of amusement perceptible in his blue eyes.

"Rory Gilmore, this is Nicholas Pierce. This dolt chose Oxford instead of Yale and instantly regretted his decision because London was just tedious without our thrilling company, leading him to transfer here," Stephanie explains, sending a pointed look Nicholas's way.

"If only the explanation were that pathetic," Nicholas wryly grins, resting his elbows on the table. "Although I did miss the entertaining exploits of these clowns, I transferred to Yale because of family obligations."

"Ain't that a familiar tale?" Colin interjects with a jaded expression. Rory was quickly learning that their lives, and increasingly hers, were almost entirely dictated by the demands of their parents and the duty to uphold the standards of their lineage.

"I moved to Connecticut because my father is going to head up the American division of my family's company," Nicholas expounds. "My uncle was handling it, but…"

"Public office called," Colin interrupts again. "He's the governor of Massachusetts."

Rory who had heard this from Paris earlier simply nods, less interested in Nicholas's familial connections than understanding how he is so inextricably tied to her friends, "So how did you meet these guys?"

"I'll handle this," Colin volunteers, turning to Rory to fill her in. "I met this chump at Zugerberg. I had met him a few times before through his family that lived in Hartford. We went to school together for two years until Nicholas changed schools after the eighth grade. What happened to you after that? I always forget."

"That's because you're a narcissist, Colin. You don't remember anything that doesn't affect you directly," Stephanie remarks.

"Ouch, I don't think you're quite drunk enough," Colin passes Stephanie more drinks. "You're usually more agreeable when you're drunk."

"That I am," Stephanie agrees, finishing off her first drink she moves on to the next. "Where were we in filling Rory in about Nicholas's life story?"

"The ninth grade, after his departure from Zugerberg and Colin's dismal adolescent life," Finn helpfully supplies.

Stephanie giggles, "Right. Nicholas went to Eton to rub shoulders with Prince William and other titled English boys."

"You make it sound as if I've lived a hallowed existence," Nicholas chides lightly.

"Sharing a dorm with a gorgeous prince would definitely be a divine experience for me," Stephanie drawls suggestively.

Nicholas looks at Rory to clarify, "I didn't share a dorm with Prince William. He's a few years older than me and we never had any of the same classes, don't let Steph's delusions fool you. She makes it seem like I was bosom buddies with him."

"I wish," Stephanie interjects airily. "Then you could introduce me to Prince William and he could introduce me to his brother Harry and I'd die happy a very happy woman."

Rory chuckles at Stephanie's royal fantasies and takes another drink as her gaze once again slams into a knowing pair of blue eyes. Nicholas smiles lazily at her from across the table revealing a set of straight white teeth that are just as perfect as the rest of his lean frame. Maybe it's the swift stir of alcohol running through her veins, but damn it, he suddenly looks very, very good to her. And she thinks that's very, very bad. Hadn't she sworn not to make the same mistake twice?

Two hours later, Rory is sitting by herself as Finn's off chasing Rosemary and Colin and Stephanie – who are getting tanked tonight - are at the bar procuring more drinks. To her discomfort, Nicholas is still across from her looking infuriatingly composed. It annoys her because she is anything but; she's confused because she's not quite sure how to peg him. She hoped he would be disgustingly obnoxious or have some freakish back story so she might not find him so attractive. But that just isn't so.

In comparison to the other guys, Nicholas is certainly not as snide as Colin, but not as lighthearted as Finn. She sees why he fits in with this group of upper crust, next generation CEOs. He's obviously intelligent and charming with a sharp wit and easygoing demeanor. He actually gets her obscure pop culture references and has an unexpected reservoir of literary knowledge. She supposes she shouldn't be so surprised at that since she did first meet him in a bookstore. Matched up to Logan, he isn't as readily charismatic or conversational, but he does have his own distinctive magnetism that is definitely not lost on her. Though she's determined not to like him, he has been all too likeable.

He stands up and settles in the chair to her left, "I didn't know you were friends with this group."

"I could say the same for you."

He continues, "So when did you meet them?"

"I met Finn, Colin and Logan in September."

"Interesting," he remarks impassively, giving nothing away. She wonders if he's heard anything about her, maybe from Colin to whom he seems the closest. He sips at his own drink, allowing a silence to overtake them. Rory almost feels the need to pick up the conversation, but he takes the initiative, "Ironic isn't it?"

"What's ironic?"

"The events of the past few days. I've been running into you everywhere - the bookstore, Poli Sci class, and now the pub - take your pick, life's just chockfull of irony. Though I'm sure it's torture spending the evening in the company of the 'pigheaded troublemaker' who deprived you of a rare book," he grins genuinely and she notices his smile's a little lopsided creating a dimple on his right cheek.

"Must you keep lording your victory in the bookstore over me? It's enough that I have to see my collection missing that very valuable addition without you constantly reminding me," Rory mockingly replies, avoiding the very intent way he's staring at her.

"I thought I apologized already."

"You did. I'm just trying to make you feel horrible."

"It's working."

"Good," she states curtly.

"Well I am sorry," he reiterates rather sincerely. "That probably wasn't the best first impression."

"And why would you want to make a good impression on me?" She raises an eyebrow in anticipation of his response.

"Why wouldn't I?" He counters, turning so he's facing her completely. Of course he has to look even more striking up close. His face is flawless with the exception of a scar near his left eyebrow. His eyes are a clear slate blue, too intense to describe.

She diverts her gaze to her hands, not quite sure how to reply to his flirtatious answer, she automatically refutes him, "Well you didn't. I thought you were an intolerable, overconfident book stealer, in fact the jury's still out on that…"

"So you're unimpressed by me, that's okay," Nicholas shrugs, leisurely downing his drink.

He's clearly said the wrong thing as his nonchalant reaction irks her beyond belief. It's just so typical of his type or what Rory wants to believe is his type. The entitled, self-satisfied rich boy. Paris had all but described him as such and compared him to Logan to boot. He's the type she's intent on avoiding now and she wants to find every excuse to further cement her readily negative perception of him, "Right, I'm sure you have enough willing groupies at your beck and call hoping to become your trophy wife, you don't need one more."

"Hey, don't think you know me," he remarks indignantly, surprising her with a hard look. "What, you think just because I come from a wealthy, influential family that I'm some conceited playboy?"

"Oh please, in the bookstore yesterday you were the epitome of the cocky snob arrogant enough to think I'd deign to your charms because you flashed me a winning smile and offered to buy me a cup of coffee," Rory rants caustically.

"You were hardly pleasant yourself," he challenges. "Besides I thought you were flirting with me…"

"I was suffering from coffee-deprivation!" Rory protests, gaping at his impertinence. She had not been flirting with him! "For your information, I was trying to get the book, not you! I'm not the type of girl that goes around picking up guys by arguing with them over a Russian novel."

"Well you were acting really flirtatious."

"Was not. You were the one who asked me out for coffee."

"Hey! You were the one who was batting their eyelashes -"

"I do not bat my eyelashes!"

"And you were prolonging the conversation. You could have just given up easily-"

"When it comes to books, I don't give up easily."

"You touched me!"

"Excuse me?"

"After you gave up the book, you were touching my chest. Add that to your chattiness and the batting of your eyelashes, it all translates to flirting."

"Please, all because a girl touches you, you think that's an open invitation to hit on her? It was an unconscious and natural action on my part, don't read into it."

"So it's natural for you to want to touch me?"

"And you say you aren't conceited."

He groans, appearing uncharacteristically agitated, "Are you like this all the time?"

"Like what?"

"Incredibly stubborn, judgmental and self-righteous."

"You did not just call me that."

"I'm afraid I did. You called me a 'cocky snob' on top of what you said about me yesterday," he points out, lacking the teasing tone that had been his voice just seconds earlier. "I'm not a vapid playboy as you're intent on assuming. I don't understand why you're so set on categorizing me as a rich, womanizing jerk… but I'm not. I don't sleep around, I don't lead girls on, and I haven't really dated much unless I'm very interested in the girl, which doesn't happen often. Until yesterday when I thought I met a pretty, fascinating girl, but don't worry, you've proven me wrong. My mistake." He shakes his head and stands up, retreating back to his previous seat, looking rather disappointed all the while.

The mood deflates uncomfortably after Nicholas's tirade and Rory can't help but think she has perhaps judged him erroneously. He just seems so… offended and hurt almost by her remarks. He's not even looking at her at all causing her to feel even guiltier. Apparently, her experience with Logan has messed with her head as she's going around vilifying guys for supposed promiscuity. An apology is on the tip of her tongue, but she the arrival of Stephanie and Colin interrupts her.

"Shots all around," Colin grandly presents, grabbing one as soon as he sets the tray down. Like Stephanie, he's drinking hard tonight causing him to act a little less rigidly.

"I'll pass," Rory states, she meets Nicholas's eyes briefly, but instead of the teasing glint that was there before, she is met with a cool, indifferent look. She averts her gaze quickly, embarrassed by her hasty condemnation of him. He was right. She shouldn't have assumed he was like Logan or misinterpreted his actions. It was just so easy to cast Nicholas as the bad guy, to write him off based on supposition and rumor. It was simpler to protect herself from Nicholas because there was that very real possibility that like Logan, he could hurt her.

Logan rolls onto his back and settles on the mattress, breathing heavily from his exertion. Annelise immediately cuddles into his side, burying her face in his chest breathlessly and sighing with satisfaction. This had been the most bearable part of the evening. Dinner had consisted of her running commentary on the rumors making the rounds at the country club, conversation he was in no way absorbed by. Somehow Annalise is not as captivating as she had once been.

He ignores his thoughts, which are wishing that the blonde hair draped over his right arm was chestnut, that the silence was filled with nonsensical rambling and that he would smell flowers, not musk, every time he inhales. He closes his eyes, waiting for Annelise's breathing to even out and for her to fall into a deep sleep. That will signal the opportunity for him to make his escape, leaving only a written excuse and wrinkled sheets in his wake.

When this moment comes an hour later, he feels guilty as he slides out from under her grasp and quietly gathers his strewn clothes. This is only striking because he's never felt remorseful about casual sex before. Every girl he dates is under the tacit impression that they should not expect anything more from him, just one night and the vague promise of another. They can hope for more, but that hope is futile and rarely fulfilled.

As he's leaving the room he spares one final glance at the blonde sprawled out on the bed, trying to decipher his feelings of guilt. These feelings are in no way foreign. Lately, regardless of which girl he's with, it's something that assails him. There is one conclusion, one explanation for these uncharacteristic pangs of self-reproach. However, it is one conclusion he does not want to acknowledge because it's all too painful and it all leads back to her.

A/N:

I clearly have a disease in making super long chapters. Remember to check out my LJ link on my author page for previews and updates.

Thoughts on Nicholas? Good or bad?

Next Chapter:

Rory tries to make up with Marty and Stephanie provides some perspective about Nicholas. Rory makes amends with Nicholas after meeting him in an unexpected place. Logan's parents and Rory's grandparents make an appearance also. Hartford society's going to play a pretty big part in this story.