A/N: Thanks for the great reviews guys! I really can't tell you how much I love you guys for those.
**Disclaimer: I own a Discman, a shelf full of books, and this laptop. I don't own anything related to this show. And even if you do sue me, all you're getting is the Discman and the books because there's no way in hell you're getting my laptop.**
A Whole New World
by Angel Monroe
Chapter 4: Fire Escape Confessionals and Other Cuteness
Rory tossed and turned in bed that night, dreams of chocolate eyes and almost-kisses haunting her sleep. They were by no means bad dreams. In fact, they were the best dreams she'd had since she'd learned she'd be moving to New York, but in the dreams, every time she went to kiss the lips she so desperately wanted to touch, they slipped away from her.
Finally, somewhere around two in the morning, she decided that sleep just then would be futile. Slipping off of the air-mattress, she went to the bookshelf. Running her fingers delicately over the spines of several of the volumes, she finally extracted the copy of Oliver Twist she had brought to the park the day before. She loved the story. It always gave her a warm feeling deep inside.
Looking out the window next to the desk, she saw that, like so many apartment buildings in New York, this one had a fire escape. Deciding that the warm summer air might help her relax, she slid the window open and stepped out onto the metal landing. She found a comfortable place to sit, leaning against the railing, and began to read by the light coming from inside.
"Rory?" she heard a familiar voice through the dark she was enveloped in. All she really saw was a scarlet film in front of her eyes. 'How strange,' she thought slowly.
"Rory, wake up," she heard again, and she could hear a smile in his voice. 'Wake up?' she asked herself, and only then did she realize that her eyes were closed.
Blinking slowly, she opened her eyes to the morning sun. A warm smile greeted her, and she smiled back automatically. 'Not a bad way to start the day.'
"Dodger? What are you doing here?" she asked Jess, who was kneeling in front of her.
"I should ask you the same thing," he smirked a little hearing her call him that.
"You first," she said groggily.
"I just came to ask John if he wanted to do something today," he replied, "and I saw you sitting out here. Decided to surprise you. I didn't see that you were asleep until I got up here."
"I couldn't sleep last night and decided to read," she explained looking around. "I guess I dozed off."
"Huh," Jess answered.
There was a pause while she contemplated this statement. "Why do you say that?" Rory asked sitting up.
"I dunno," he said, "I just don't have anything else to say."
She looked at him skeptically. "You read Hemmingway. You love books," she pointed out. "I'm pretty sure you can form full sentences."
He smirked at her. "And you know me so well after two days?"
"Less actually," she said, "and you told me about Hemmingway."
He sighed with resignation. "I don't like to show people what I'm thinking," he explained, his voice a little sorrowful. "Sometimes it's a necessary skill in this world to be able to hide your thoughts and emotions."
She looked into his eyes, seeing the discontent she had sensed in his voice. "So sad," she observed. "You talk like the world is such a deep, dark place, like there's no good in it at all."
His eyes were so deep, so serious when he spoke again. "Until less than two days ago, that's what I thought of the world."
Rory blushed high in her cheeks, not sure what to make of the statement or how she should respond.
'Why did I just say that?' he berated himself. 'Smooth move moron, you probably just scared her.'
"Sorry," he said a little embarrassed. "I didn't mean to say it like that."
"It's fine," she brushed the statement off quickly, looking everywhere but at him.
"It's just . . ." he ran his fingers through his hair, trying to figure out exactly what he did mean, ". . . this city, this place, it gets to you, ya know? I've lived here all my life; I grew up covering my back, making sure I wasn't letting too much show." He looked down, hating that he was revealing so much of himself to a complete stranger, and yet knowing somehow that she wouldn't laugh or criticize him for it. "And then you came along, this girl who seems to have never been touched by that kind of bitterness. It's like light in a world of dark, a star in the night."
She looked up at him finally, searching those chocolate eyes she loved so much. "I don't understand," she admitted.
"You're different, Rory," he tried to explain what had been floating around in his head the entire restless night before. "You don't have barriers, walls, defenses. You're right out there for the world to see, and it . . . it's like hope. You're hope."
A slow smile spread across her face, unable to hide how touched she was by his words. It was the most poetic, most beautiful compliment she had ever received. "I don't know what to say," she said breathlessly. "I mean, thank you."
He blushed, knowing that he had just exposed way too much. Still, he loved the way her eyes were shining right then. Those sweet blue eyes, they made it all worth it.
He stood up, offering her his hand. "Come on," he said still looking into those incredible eyes, "I'll buy you a cup of coffee."
Rory took his hand, her smile widening. "Magic words," she replied. Not only was he offering coffee, a Gilmore's life support system, but he was asking her out . . . kind of. Coffee was a friend drink, right? Still, it was a start. She internally screeched, wishing she could call Lane so they could screech together.
He helped her stand and was about to head down the fire escape when she stopped him. "What is it?" he asked trying to sound relaxed, but in his mind, he was running through a million doubts. 'Maybe she changed her mind,' he thought. 'Maybe she thinks the invitation was a bit much and is thoroughly freaked now.'
He looked back at her, and she was smiling. "Aren't we forgetting something?" she asked with amusement in her sweet voice.
He looked confused for a moment before she pointed to her outfit. He laughed, only now noticing her attire. She was wearing fuzzy blue pajama pants and a white tank top. 'And looking damn fine in it,' he thought, then mentally slapped himself across the face. 'Snap out of it, man,' he told himself. 'John Patterson's cousin.' Her feet were tucked into a pair of fuzzy blue slippers that matched her pants, and he smiled at how cute and innocent she looked.
"I see nothing wrong with that," he teased her. "Call it a new fashion trend."
She playfully punched him in the chest. "I don't think so," she told him. "Besides, I have to tell Aunt Grace that I'm going out." She climbed in through the open window. "Come on in," she said pulling him through by his hand, which, for some reason, she was still holding.
She opened the door to the study and walked out into the living room. "Hello," she greeted Grace and John. "Look who I found on my fire escape this morning."
Both John and Grace looked very confused and a little worried.
"It is so not what you're thinking," Jess said. "No, I'm not a stalker, and no, I really don't need anything broken or rearranged. Maybe another time."
Rory chuckled at his sarcastic tone. "I fell asleep out there," she explained. "Jess came to see John and decided to see if I was okay."
"Oh," John said not quite understanding. "And what were you doing on the fire escape in the first place?"
"Couldn't sleep last night," she replied simply. "Decided to read, and the fire escape just seemed like a good place to relax."
Everyone seemed to accept that, and the subject was dropped. Grace went back to making herself and John bowls of cereal, and John still stood in front of the two wondering what was going on between them.
"I have to go get dressed," Rory said finally, heading back toward the study. "I'm assuming you guys can play nice for a few minutes?"
"We'll try," John joked, pulling Jess into a headlock and tousling his hair. "Can't make any promises."
Rory smiled, closing the door of the study behind her. It was her second day in New York, and she already had a bodyguard and a love interest. Lane would be so jealous. Pulling on a pair of jeans and a lavender button-up blouse, she thought about one of the last conversations she'd had with her best friend.
***Flashback: nineteen days before the move***
Surrounded by magenta light and the music of Lane's latest favorite band, Rory and Lane sat in her closet. Rory had asked Lane if they could talk, and Lane had, of course, been happy to oblige. Any excuse to avoid her psychotic mother. Rory just gotten there and hadn't really said anything yet.
"So what's up?" Lane asked a little worried at her normally jubilant friend's odd behavior.
"Oh," Rory replied, trying to keep her voice level, "nothing much. Ya know, read, write, move to New York."
"Huh?" Lane asked, completely confused by that last statement.
"I'm moving," Rory repeated, tears gathering in her eyes. "I'm moving in with my aunt in Manhattan."
"What?" Lane was completely horrified. "Why?"
"Mom has to go away for a while," Rory said vaguely, "and I don't really have anywhere else to go."
"Wait, where's your mother going?"
"She's, um . . ." Rory stumbled over her words, the tears spilling involuntarily onto her cheeks, ". . . she's going to London for a while. She has to take care of some things."
"But I don't want you to go!" Lane cried throwing her arms around her best friend. "How am I going to survive without you? First you leave my school, now you leave my state?! It's not fair!"
"I know," Rory said hugging Lane a little tighter. "I hate it too, but I don't have a choice."
"You could move in with me!" Lane proclaimed loudly. Then, "Oh wait, no, that's not very likely, is it?"
Rory chuckled through her tears. "No, I think your mother would probably kill me within the first week. Can you imagine? No coffee!"
"This is the hell that is my life," Lane said somberly. "So when are you leaving?"
"A little less than three weeks," Rory replied.
"So soon?" Lane whined.
"I know, it sucks."
"You know you're taking my sanity with you, right?" Lane asked, completely straight-faced.
"I know," Rory replied, "but you'll make other friends. Maybe you could even join a clique."
"Bite your tongue!" Lane yelled, and a fierce pillow fight ensued. Eventually, the two girls collapsed in laughter, the tense conversation topic dissolving into their everyday repartee.
***End Flashback***
Rory smiled sadly at the memory of her best friend. Lane had been there for her up to the end, standing with Lorelai at the bus stop to see her off. She had always been her best friend, and Rory hoped that after Lorelai's situation was . . . resolved, she and Lane could pick up where they left off.
Pushing this temporarily to the back of her mind, she got ready to go out with Jess, but she made a mental note to call Lane later and fill her in. Smiling at the thought, she slipped across the hall to the bathroom. Leaving her hair loosely framing her face, Rory washed her face, brushed her teeth, and dabbed on a little lip gloss. She checked her reflection quickly and headed back to the living room.
She smiled, her eyes skimming over the scene in front of her. Jess was lounging in front of the couch, Grace and John sitting on either side of it. All three were watching morning television, seemingly entranced by the anime characters.
"Interesting show?" she asked them, and they looked almost startled by her sudden appearance in the room.
"Very interesting plotline," Jess replied maintaining his position on the floor. There was a twinge of casual sarcasm in his voice, and she couldn't help but think how well it fit with his personality. "And it's really funny how their words don't even remotely fit with the movement of their lips. I dunno, just entertains the hell outta me."
"Sure it does," she said her eyes dancing with amusement. "So are we getting that coffee, or are you doing something with John?"
"Coffee?" John looked between one of his best friends and his cousin, wondering when all this had happened. "You two are getting coffee?"
"Is there a problem with that?" Jess asked casually.
"No," John replied smirking a little. "I just didn't know you guys were, um . . ." he smiled, struggling for the right way to say this, ". . . I didn't know you guys had become such good friends."
"It's just coffee," Rory said rolling her eyes.
"Mhm," Grace was smiling, knowing exactly what was going on. "Go ahead honey. I'll see you when I get home from work."
"Thanks Aunt Grace," Rory said. "I forgot something in my room. I'll be back in a sec."
Rory headed back to the study. She grabbed her purse and a copy of Howl from the shelf. She had, of course, read it before, but she couldn't leave the house without a book. Now properly equipped, she went back to the living room.
Jess, by now, was on his feet and waiting for her. "Ready to go?" he asked her.
"Yep," she replied and together they walked out of the apartment, waving a goodbye to John and Grace, both of whom were trying to hide knowing smiles.
"So," Jess decided to make small-talk as they meandered down the sidewalk, "why is John so protective of you?"
Rory smiled a little. "I'm not sure," she replied honestly. "We used to play together when we were really little, but then they moved out here from Hartford and it was more of a trip. Now, I guess, we're just picking up where we left off."
"You lived in Hartford?" he asked her.
"No," she answered. "I lived about a half an hour away in this quaint little one-horse town." She smiled at the thought of her town, her home. "You wouldn't like it," she chuckled.
He shot her a look of mock offense, his mouth hanging open. "Why would you say that?"
She laughed at his expression. "You just don't seem the type to be tied to the quaint," she told him. "I mean, I can imagine what Taylor would think of you." She stifled another chuckle at the thought.
"Who's Taylor?" he asked her, obviously lost.
"He's just this guy who goes around and tries to make everything perfect," she explained. "He thinks he owns the town, and if Luke doesn't kill him first, I think he might someday."
"Luke?" Jess was making a mental note of these names, trying to get a picture of this zoo.
"He owns the diner in town," Rory told him. She smiled at the memory of her former home away from home. "He makes the best coffee in the world, I swear. My mom and I went in there every morning, afternoon, and evening for coffee and food."
"You never ate at home?" he asked her.
"Are you kidding?" she feigned shocked at the thought. "Not even a euthanasia patient would dare eat my mother's cooking, and I've never gotten a chance to develop any skill for cooking I may or may not have. I grew up on takeout and Luke's coffee."
"That's amazing," Jess observed. "How are you not 300 pounds?"
"Beats the heck outta me," she replied casually. "Counting calories was never one of my skills either."
Jess marveled at the girl he was walking with. Here was this smart, beautiful, obviously energetic girl, and she was so completely honest and real that it made his head spin. 'How is someone like her even possible?' he asked himself. 'And how in hell did she end up here with me?'
"Well," he said as they reached the coffeehouse, "this isn't the best coffee in the world, but it's pretty good."
"Thanks," she said as he held the door open for her. She walked through and waited for him just inside.
"Where do you want to sit?" he asked her.
She looked around the place. It was bigger and less personal than Luke's, but it would have to do. The walls were lined with modern art, and the chairs and tables looked like someone's idea of art as well. 'Starbucks on crack,' she thought and smiled to herself. There was a slightly asymmetric look to everything. It didn't really sit well with her, but she decided that the booths didn't look too weird.
They picked a booth towards the back, not wanting to be bothered by the rush of the morning regulars. After getting two coffees and two muffins, they sat down on either side of the table.
Rory took a deep breath, taking in the long-cherished scent of coffee. She had been deprived of the elixir for the past two days. She hadn't even thought about it the day before while she was with John, and she had been too busy reading to get any while she was with Jess. Now, sitting here with it in front of her, she realized how much she had missed it.
Taking a sip, she closed her eyes and let the taste of it roll over her tongue. It wasn't Luke's, but it certainly wasn't bad. She would learn to cope with it eventually.
Jess, who had been watching her intently, smiled with amusement. "I'm guessing you like coffee?" he asked.
Rory opened her eyes, a smile on her face. "It's a Gilmore's elixir of life," she replied cheerfully. "I'm not quite as addicted as my mother, but I'm quite hooked. My mom, she drinks at least three cups every morning. I'm only at one in the morning. I drink another four throughout the day, but in the morning, I can live on one."
"Three?" Jess was amazed. "Four? How is it that you're still alive and breathing with all that crap in your system?"
"Iron stomachs run in the family," Rory explained laughing. "You'd be amazed. You haven't even heard about the exorbitant amount of junk food included in movie nights."
"You are an amazing person, Rory Gilmore," Jess said, completely in awe.
"I like to think so," she said with mock conceit.
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, both sipping their coffee and nibbling their muffins.
"How is the coffee in London?" Rory said out of nowhere.
"What?" he asked, caught off guard by her statement.
"London, England," she repeated. "Do you think they have decent coffee?"
"I would think so," he said still not understanding. "Why?"
She looked down into her coffee. "I was just wondering how my mother is doing."
"She's in London?" he asked.
"Yeah," she replied still staring at the black liquid in her mug. "She probably went to every restaurant, coffeehouse, and café in the country to find a decent cup."
"Why aren't you there with her?" Jess asked, the question popping out before he could think about it.
Rory paused, thinking about how to answer. "She didn't want me there," she said finally. Her voice was so sad, so quiet that Jess barely heard her.
"Sorry," he said quietly. "I didn't mean to bring up a sore subject."
She looked up, forcing a smile though her eyes remained melancholy. "It's okay," she said. "It was for my own good. I guess that came out a little harsher than I meant it to."
"You and your mom were pretty close, huh?" the thought was a little foreign to him.
Rory smiled again, a genuine smile. "Yeah," she breathed. "Mom and I, we were best friends. I'm even named after her."
"Really?" now this he had to hear. "She's a Rory too?"
"No," she replied. "Her name is Lorelai. So is mine for that matter, but everyone's always called me Rory."
"Lorelai," he let the name roll off his tongue. "Interesting."
Her eyes went wide in mock offense. "Are you making fun of my name?" she demanded.
"No," he teased her. "I think Lorelai Gilmore is a lovely name. Sounds like a good stripper name."
She kicked him hard under the table but wasn't really offended.
"Ow!" he was laughing so hard, other patrons were turning to look. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I take it back!"
"Good," she said with satisfaction. "You should be." She looked around and saw that all the customers around them were glancing their way. "I think maybe we should go," she laughed quietly.
"Are you embarrassed, Miss Gilmore?" he teased.
"No," she replied, "but I think they're going to kick us out pretty soon if we don't quiet down."
"Who cares?" Jess asked loudly, intentionally drawing attention.
Rory laughed, "I would like to be allowed in here to drink my coffee tomorrow, thank you very much. As I said, I can't live without at least one cup in the morning."
"Well then," he said at a normal volume, "if it's a matter of life and death, I guess I can refrain."
She laughed again, pulling him towards the door. They were both done with their coffee and muffins, and she really wanted to get away from the snide stares. "Sorry for the inconvenience," she called just before the door shut.
"So," he said when they were a safe block away, "what now?"
"I dunno," she replied. "We could go back and see what John's doing today."
"We could," he said, but she could hear a twinge of disappointment in his voice.
"Or," she continued, "we could walk around by ourselves for a while until we find a better plan."
"Smart girl," he commented. "Let's go for what's behind door number two."
With a chuckle, the two continued down the street, her holding his arm and leaning her head on casually his shoulder.