Jess sat in his room, lounging on his bed as he read his book. His stereo blasted The Clash as he lost himself in his world of fantasy. He had been doing a lot of that lately. It was easier than thinking about things.
It had been three weeks since she'd left and every day had seemed like a hundred. There was nothing to do anymore now that she wasn't there to pass the time with. He went to work every night, picking up extra shifts to keep busy, and John and Steve had been trying to get him out every couple of days for parties and stuff, but mostly he'd just been in his room or the park reading. He didn't really want to go to Jay's. Too much to remember there.
All of a sudden, he heard a loud pounding on his bedroom door. He could hear muffled shouts, but the music was blocking out most of it. After a moment of incessant pounding, he switched off the stereo and called for the person to enter.
"What the hell is with that music?" Liz shouted as she entered the room. "You're giving me a migraine."
"And I'm sure the hangover has nothing to do with it," Jess replied dryly, not looking up.
"Watch your mouth," she snapped. "I'll smack that smart-ass look right off your face. I'm your mother, dammit."
"And what gives you the right to call yourself my mother?" he asked, his tone scathing. "Last time I checked, you ranked just above Andrea Yates on the mother of the year ballot."
"You're such an ungrateful little shit, you know that?" she was getting angry. "You go around acting like you're God's gift just because you can read a book or two. You act like you're so much better than the rest of us, but you're not. Hell, you can't even keep a girlfriend more than a day."
Jess didn't look up, barely showed any reaction whatsoever, but inside he was seething. Liz could see it in the way his jaw clenched, and she smiled knowing that she'd hit a nerve.
"So where is that little tramp you had in here a few weeks ago?" she asked. "She finally realize what a loser you are? You can't even keep a hussy like that happy. How pathetic."
It was about then that Jess had had enough. He had put up with a lot of crap from his mother over the years. He's gotten pep talks like this since he'd been born, but he would not let this woman pour salt on his very open wound just to make herself feel better about being a shitty parent. She had no right calling Rory a tramp any more than she could call herself a mother.
"Don't you dare," he said rising in front of her, standing at least three inches taller. "Don't you dare talk about her like that and don't talk about my relationships when you can't keep them happy any better than I can."
"Oh, I keep them happy," she smiled a smile that almost made him sick.
"You keep them busy," he corrected, and her face darkened. "You keep them busy and in booze, but that's pretty much all those deadbeat guys are after. They hang around long enough to drink all your liquor and trash the place, and then they split. They treat you like shit and yet you stay with them until they get bored and walk out. So don't you talk to me about pathetic."
"Get out!" she screamed, tears sparking in her eyes. "Get out of my house!"
"Gladly," he said grabbing his book and stuffing it in his back pocket before storming out of the apartment.
He walked briskly around the block a couple times, his head screaming, before he stopped at a payphone. Putting in a couple quarters, he dialed a number that had become all too familiar to him lately.
"Hello?" she said picking up.
"Hey," he breathed, the tension in his shoulders already easing a little.
"Hey," she said, her voice brightening at the sound of his. "What's up?"
"I just needed to hear your voice right now," he admitted. "I just got into a screaming match with my mother and she kinda kicked me out of the house."
"For today or forever?" she asked, her tone worried.
"Hell if I know," he replied. "Deciphering Liz has never been of huge interest to me."
"I'm sorry," she sad sympathetically.
"So how are you?" he asked, dying for a subject change.
"Not bad," she replied. "My mom and I are getting ready for the weekly dinner at the grandparents' house."
"Sounds peachy," he said dryly.
"Yeah, but ever since we got back, they've been really good," she told him, amazement evident in her voice. "I think the cancer scared them enough to prompt a truce between them and my mom. They even gave us permission to skip dinner anytime if Mom didn't feel up to it."
"Call Ripley's," he said, smiling a little just talking to her.
"Otherwise," she continued, "everything's been pretty normal. Mom starts treatment in Hartford next week, but I'm coping."
"Good," he said, a bittersweet feeling coming over him. "I'm glad you're good."
"I miss you," she said softly, her voice holding a twinge of sadness.
"I miss you too, Rory," he told her. Then after a beat, "Well, listen, I gotta go. Long distance and everything."
"Yeah," she replied reluctantly. "I'll talk to you later."
"Yeah, later," he said, disinclined to hang up. "Well, bye."
"Bye," she said, and there was a click on the other end. She was gone again.
After reading in the park for a few hours, he decided that it was probably safe to go home. He really didn't want to, but what else could he do? He was out of books to read.
Letting himself into the apartment, he was greeted with silence. He guessed that she had gone over to her boyfriend's house to get drunk . . . again. She probably wouldn't be home that night. With a disgusted sigh, he went to the door of his bedroom only to find a note hanging there. He took it down and read it.
Jess-
Pack some stuff. You're going to live with your Uncle Luke. You leave on the bus tomorrow at 8. Be ready. I'll be home later tonight so don't try to pull anything.
-Mom
Crumpling the letter between his hands, he stood there in utter shock. She was actually throwing him out. She was sticking him on a bus and sending him to live with some uncle he'd never met. He didn't even know where this Uncle Luke guy lived. Great parenting skills.
Grabbing a bag out of his closet, he began to shove books and clothes into it. He didn't know what else to do. He couldn't stay here with a mother who didn't want him, who didn't love him. And in the eyes of the law if no one else, she was his mother, and she had the authority to send him wherever the hell she wanted. So begrudgingly, he shoveled his life into this tiny bag and then opened another book to pass the time.
Lorelai sat at the counter in the diner. She and Rory had just gotten back from the grandparents' house so she was still pretty hungry. Why Emily would attempt to feed them frog legs was beyond them. So Lorelai was in charge of food pick-up while Rory was getting movies for their movie night.
"Luke!" Lorelai called in a singsong voice. "Your favorite customer is out of coffee and dying for some more!"
"Why do I put up with you?" he asked coming out of the kitchen, coffeepot in hand.
"Because I'm so damn cute?" she reasoned.
"That must be it," he replied smiling a little as he topped her off.
Since they had gotten back in town, Luke had been amazing. By now, everyone in their little hamlet knew of Lorelai's condition and had been completely supportive, but Luke had gone above and beyond by offering to help around the house, do odd jobs at the inn, and even deliver food to them when Lorelai wasn't feeling well. He had been great.
"Thanks!" Lorelai smiled drinking the heavenly liquid, "I also need two cheeseburgers and two orders of cheese fries to go."
"Coming right up," he said calling the order to Caesar.
"I love the service here," she said. "If you keep this up, I'm putting you in my will."
"What do I get?" Luke asked. "The monkey lamp or the Betty Boop clock?"
"Play nice and I'll give you both," she replied.
"Well at least I have something to look forward to," he quipped before heading toward a table with a couple plates in hand.
The ring of the phone broke through the usual diner chatter and Luke almost dropped a burger on Taylor's lap.
"I got it," Lorelai called rounding the counter. She picked up the receiver and spoke into it, "Luke's Diner: you kill it, we grill it."
"Lorelai!" Luke shouted. "You are no longer allowed to answer the phone!"
"Can I help you?" Lorelai asked ignoring him.
"Um, yeah," came a female voice in the other end, "I need to speak to Luke."
"One moment," she said covering the receiver. "Luke! Someone needs to talk to you!"
"Hello?" Luke said taking the phone. "Yeah, I'm working. What do you think I'm doing? . . . Uh huh. . . Uh huh . . . Oh man, what did you do? . . . Excuse me, are you serious? . . . Just like that, huh? . . . This is unbelievable! You won't ever change, will you? . . . Okay, fine. Do what you want, make the arrangements. Now I'm working, we'll finish this later." Luke slammed the phone back onto the hook and turned irately to the counter where he began to scrub incessantly.
"Um, is everything okay?" Lorelai asked, her voice concerned.
"It's nothing," he replied putting the rag down as he seemed to think of something.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yeah," he said. "I just have to go run a few errands. Here's your food." Practically shoving the two carryout bags into her hands, he called to Caesar that he would be back in twenty and quickly exited the diner.
"That was interesting," she said, just standing there for a moment before taking her food and going to meet Rory.
"Rory!" Lorelai called her daughter from the kitchen the next morning. "Rory, are you up yet?!"
She heard a groan and a loud thump, and a few seconds later a very grumpy Rory opened her bedroom door.
"What is wrong with you?" she asked her mother. "Why are you awake this early, and more importantly, why are you waking me up this early?"
"I'm up because work called twenty minutes ago with some emergency so I have to go in," Lorelai answered. "And you're up because I didn't want you to worry about where I was."
"That's what a pen and paper are for," she told her, "and I would have been up in an hour or so anyway. You could have called from there. Instead, you call me at eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, the morning after a movie night. I think I have a sugar hangover."
"Impossible," Lorelai protested. "You're a Gilmore, and more importantly, you're my daughter. There is no such thing as a sugar hangover in our book."
"Yeah, you're right," Rory reasoned. "If there was such a thing, I think I would have known before."
"Halloween of '92."
"Valentines Day, '95."
"Taylor's crazy ice cream festival in '99. That was a big one."
"Oh yeah," Rory replied. "I'm surprised we don't have diabetes from that one."
"So see," Lorelai said smiling, "it's not a sugar hangover. Someone just put tequila in the cherry coke and you're experiencing your first real hangover."
"As long as you didn't, I'm not worried," Rory said smiling as well. "I don't think Taylor would sell spiked soda. It would promote hooliganism."
"Wouldn't it be fun to try though?" Lorelai's eyes lit up mischievously.
"Just don't tell me about it," Rory replied covering her ears. "I'm not going to be an accessory to the crime."
"You're no fun," Lorelai pouted. "So, Luke's?"
"You have to go to work," Rory told her. "Remember, big emergency."
"Aw, Michele can handle it," she said smiling a little. "And won't it be fun to see him handling it. I think he said something on the phone about killing Rune."
"Evil mother," Rory berated. "How about you go to work and I'll go to Luke's and bring you coffee?"
"Fine," Lorelai relented. "Spoil my fun."
"So go," Rory said, pushing her mom toward the door. "I'll be dressed and to Luke's faster without you here distracting me."
"I'm going," Lorelai said with mock hurt. "It's nice to be pushed out of my own house every once in a while. Keeps the ego in check."
"Bye mom," Rory waved before closing the door and going to get dressed.
"Hey Luke," Rory greeted the man as she entered the diner. "How are you doing?"
"Hey Rory," Luke said not looking up from the list he was making. After a second, he looked at her, saying, "What does a guy your age eat?"
"Excuse me?" she asked, caught off guard by the question.
"What does a 16-year-old guy eat?" he asked again. "You're 16 so you should know."
"Um, okay," she said still confused. "I'd say just about anything. Soda, chips, cheeseburgers, fries, cereal, pop tarts, fruit if he's a healthy eater . . . I don't know. Normal people food. Why?"
"My nephew is coming to stay with me for a while," he replied tiredly. "I have a place for him to sleep, a place for his stuff, but I have no idea what to feed him."
"You do live in a diner, Luke," she reminded him. "He can always come down and make himself something."
"Yeah, you're right," he said. Then seeming to snap out of it, he asked her, "Was there something you wanted?"
"Two coffees and two strawberry danishes to go please," she said. "So when is your nephew getting here?"
"The bus comes in at eleven," he replied.
"Well," she said taking the bag and the two coffees, "good luck."
"Thanks," he said turning back to his list.
Jess Mariano stepped off the bus into his new world. In front of him stood what looked to be some kind of hillbilly in flannel. In his early thirties, the man looked like he had just stepped off the set of 'Smallville.'
"Jess," the man greeted him with a cheesy plastered grin.
"Luke," he said back, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.
After a moment of awkward silence, Luke said, "Okay then," and began walking away, and Jess followed reluctantly.
He looked at the town, a grimace on his face. Everywhere he looked there were corny decorations and quaint little shops. Hell, there were more people walking than driving in cars. He didn't even see more than one streetlight in the whole damn place. 'Crap,' he thought. 'I just walked into Pleasantville.'
He followed Luke to a hole-in-the-wall shop that said "William's Hardware" out front, but upon closer inspection, seemed to be some kind of restaurant. Luke said something about it being his grandfather's and led him upstairs to a tiny apartment.
"Well," Luke said looking around, "here we are. It's pretty simple. You know, this is the room. That's my bed, that's your, uh, bed for now, but the sheets are new. There's the bathroom, there's the closet, there's the dresser, the phone, and over there is the kitchen."
"Great," he said dryly. He walked over and sat on the air mattress he was supposed to call a bed.
He almost smiled, remembering how Rory had been in this exact situation six weeks before. For some reason, this entire situation reminded him of her, but he couldn't put his finger on why. So instead of pondering over it, he dumped out his stuff and picked up a book.
"So this is all your stuff?" Luke asked, obviously struggling for a topic of conversation.
"Yup," he replied simply.
"Not much there."
"Liz's sending the rest later."
"So, you need any help?"
"Nope," Jess replied. He opened his book and began to read, ignoring Luke's next few questions. He was tired of the verbal runaround right now.
"Well, I have to get back to the diner," Luke said finally. "Come down when you're hungry."
"Will do," Jess said evenly, not looking up as Luke left the apartment.
After Luke was gone, Jess just sat there for a moment, wishing he was back in New York. At least there he had John and Steve and Jay to talk to. There, he had work and places to hang out. And there, he could look forward to a call from Rory twice a week. She didn't even know that he had moved yet.
It was strange, he was probably closer to her, but she had never told him the name of her home town. She had always just said Connecticut. He resolved to call her later and ask her. Maybe he could visit her sometime. With this in mind, he went back to his book, disappearing into its pages.
"Rory," she heard a voice behind her as she walked past Doose's. "Rory, wait up."
"What do you want, Dean?" she asked him as she sped her pace.
"I just want to talk," he replied, touching her shoulder to make her stop. "I need to talk to you. Just give me twenty minutes."
Rory sighed, tired of this game but melting a little at his expression. His eyes looked so sincere and sad. She hated that they weren't friends anymore. 'Maybe it's not too late,' she thought. 'Maybe we still can be.'
"Fine," she replied finally. "Twenty minutes, but I have to stop at the diner first to tell my mom where I'm going." She turned to him. "Where are we going?"
"I thought the park would be nice," he replied.
"Sounds good," she agreed before opening the door to Luke's.
"Rory! My child!" Lorelai called from the counter. "Where have you been? I couldn't start without you and now I'm hungry."
"I was . . ." she glanced out the window to where Dean was waiting, ". . . held up."
"What's going on?" Lorelai asked, her tone matching the hesitation in her daughter's.
"He wants to talk," she replied. "I figure I should give him the benefit of the doubt and make nice."
"So you won't be joining me for lunch?" Lorelai asked.
"We're going to the park," Rory told her. "I think it should be okay, but if I'm not back in thirty, come save me."
"Will do," Lorelai smiled a little, but her eyes were worried. "And be careful. I always liked Dean, but he's been kinda weird lately. Kind of fatal-attraction-y, so just be smart. Stick to populated areas."
"I seriously doubt Dean would hurt me," Rory rolled her eyes, but saw the concern in her mother's expression, but I promise to be careful anyway."
"Thank you," Lorelai said, giving her daughter a kiss on the cheek before turning back to her coffee.
And with that, Rory was out the door. "So," she said as they strolled down the street, "what did you want to talk about?"
"I don't know," he replied, looking down as they walked, "just stuff. How you're doing, what you've been up to. I just miss talking to you."
"Yeah," she said, a hint of regret in her voice, "me too."
They walked leisurely across the bridge to the small park there next to the high school. It really wasn't much of a park, just a two-person swing set and a small merry-go-round. Benches surrounded the grassy area, shaded from the summer sun by trees, but Rory opted to sit on the swing. She could maintain her personal space better on a swing without it seeming awkward or rude. Dean sat on the swing next to her, swaying idly in the slightly uncomfortable situation.
"So," he said, "what have you been up to?"
"Not much," she replied honestly. "Just hanging out with Lane and Mom a lot. Oh, and then there's that annual picnic auction coming up. I'm actually making food this year instead of just throwing in leftovers."
"Really?" he asked skeptically. "When did you learn to cook?"
"In New York," she said smiling a little at the memory. "A friend gave me a few lessons."
"A friend?" Dean asked darkly. "You mean that guy?"
"Yes," she replied, a little confused by his anger. Just seconds ago they had been having a perfectly friendly conversation. "And it's Jess. Is there something you have a problem with?"
"I just don't see how you can be dating someone you never see when I'm right here," he said sourly.
"Can we just change the subject please?" she asked checking her watch. It had been less than five minutes and they were already arguing. 'And he's wondering why we're not together,' she thought sardonically.
"Fine," he said a little calmer. "I don't want to fight with you."
"Me neither," she agreed, pushing off on her swing just to have something else to concentrate on. "What have you been doing?" she asked.
"A lot of work," he replied. "I'm saving up for a new car stereo, so I've been picking up extra shifts where I can."
"Sounds cool," she said.
"Yeah," he said and another awkward silence fell over them.
An hour after he'd gotten there, Jess was a third of the way through his book and, he had to admit, pretty hungry. He hadn't eaten anything since that morning right before Liz had stuck him on the bus, waving a half-hearted goodbye. And she called herself a mother.
Dragging himself off the air-mattress, he stuffed his book in his back pocket and headed down the stairs. Pulling back the curtain, he stopped dead in his tracks.
"Lorelai?" The word was barely audible, but it was enough to make Luke and Lorelai look up at him.
"Jess?" Lorelai was just as stunned. "What are you doing here?"
"You two know each other?" Luke asked looking between the two.
"Wait, you're Luke's nephew?" Lorelai asked him.
"Luke's diner," the realization hit him like a ton of bricks. "This is the Luke's diner Rory was talking about. This is your town."
"Okay, I have no idea what's going on here, but I have to run to Doose's for a few things," Luke said heading toward the door. "We'll talk when I get back."
"So you're Luke's nephew," Lorelai said as Jess went behind the counter. "That is so weird. He said something about you getting into trouble. What'd you do?"
"Just said some things to my mother that pissed her off," he replied truthfully.
"Okay then," she said nodding. "So, can you get me some coffee? Luke cut me off."
Smiling a little, he reached for the pot and handed her the whole thing. "Enjoy," he said, his mind racing.
"So," she said taking a sip, "you want to know where Rory is, don't you?"
"Very much so," he replied anxiously, drumming his hands on the counter.
"She went to the park to talk with Dean," she replied, seeing him cringe a little at the mention of another guy. "She's been avoiding him for a while, but he roped her into it this time, so I'm thinking she could use some saving right about now."
"Thanks," he said about to head out the door. Then he looked back, a little unsure if he should leave the place unattended.
"I'll cover," she told him, noticing his unease. "If you go out this door, take a left, and keep walking, you'll hit the bridge in no time and you'll see the park from there."
"Thanks Lorelai," he said. "I own you one."
And with that, he was out the door.
"I'm not going over this again with you," Rory said trying her best to walk away. "I've been telling you every time I've seen you for three weeks that you and I aren't getting back together."
After some initial awkwardness, Rory and Dean had gotten into a pretty good conversation. They had talked about his softball games and how Clara was. She had told him about Lorelai's condition and how she was holding up. It was all good, until he had put his arm around her. After that, it had all gone downhill.
"Just because of some guy you met in New York?" Dean demanded incredulously as he followed her. "Give me a break. We went out for months, Rory, and you're going to forget about that for some guy you knew for three weeks?"
"It's not even about that," she told him, the frustration palpable in her voice. "We were over before I even left Stars Hollow. You were never there to listen to me or support me. I was going through one of the worst experiences of my life and all you could do was yell at me for being distant."
"But I didn't know about your mother!" he protested. "You didn't tell me!"
"Like you gave me a chance!" she shot back. "And that's not the only reason. I couldn't deal with the way you were constantly checking up on me, calling and paging and stopping by every hour, on the hour. It was like you didn't trust me enough to leave me alone for more than a few minutes."
"That's not—"
"I don't care if that's what you were trying to do," Rory said stopping to face him at the entrance of the bridge, her patience just about depleted. "That's how I felt. I felt crowded and suffocated, and I don't want to do that again."
"But—"
"Dean, this is what I'm talking about!" she said a little quieter but just as harsh. "You aren't listening to me! You don't even care that I'm saying no."
"Rory, I love you," he said with every bit of sincerity in him. "I love you so much and I don't want to lose you to some guy you're never going to see again."
"I told you before," she said, her eyes flickering around to keep herself from crying, "this isn't about him. I'm not going into this with you again and there's nothing you can say to change my mind, so drop it. We were over long before I met . . ."
She trailed off, her eyes widening, as she saw a familiar figure at the other end of the bridge. "Jess?" she finished, almost afraid that she was imagining him standing there.
Dean followed her stare and settled on a guy he had never seen before but instantly disliked. "Jess?" he echoed, his voice dripping with distaste. "You're Jess?"
"That's what they tell me," he smiled at the grin appearing on Rory's face just before she ran into his arms.
"What . . . why . . . I don't . . ." she pulled away from him for a moment, long enough to look at him. "What are you doing here?"
"Apparently moving in with my long lost Uncle Luke," he replied nonchalantly, keeping his arms around her waist.
She searched his eyes for a moment, unable to process the information. "Luke?" she asked. "As in 'Luke's Diner' Luke? You're Luke's nephew?"
"Yup," he said. "Talk about a twist of fate."
She laughed, high and sweet. "How long are you here?" she asked, her smile growing.
"I dunno," he replied. "Indefinitely. My mom looked almost euphoric when she put me on the bus this morning."
"What happened?" she asked. "When did this happen? I only talked to you last night."
"She didn't want to deal with me anymore," he replied simply. "As I told you on the phone, we got into a fight. I told her exactly what I thought, and she didn't like it."
"What'd you say," Rory was horrified at the notion of a mother kicking her kid out over an argument.
"Nothing that wasn't true," he said. "But enough about that. How have you been?"
"Good," she replied. "Better now, but things have been good."
"Nice to know," he said. "So what is there to do around here?"
"Not much," she replied with a chuckle. "As I said, this is a pretty small town. No parties or anything unless Taylor approves of them first." She rolled her eyes and he gave her a disbelieving look.
"So what is there?" he asked.
"Well," she replied, "there's the movies, but Mom and I usually do our own movie nights at home. There's the book store, which isn't nearly as good as Jay's but it's there. And every once in a while, the town does something big like a festival or carnival or dance. It's not bad."
"You know, you were right," he said dryly.
"About what?" she asked, confused.
"I am going to hate this place," he deadpanned.
"It won't be so bad," she chuckled. "You'll get used to it. And besides," she said kissing him softly on the lips, "I'll be here. Won't that be fun?"
"Now that you mention it . . ." he trailed off, smiling as their lips met again.
"Ahem . . ." they heard something behind them. They looked up to see Dean still standing there at the other end of the bridge, a scowl on his face.
"We were actually having a conversation," Dean said irritably. "Do you mind?"
"Not really," Jess replied with a hint of amusement. "Do you?"
"Actually . . ."
"We're done Dean," Rory interrupted. "With the conversation and its subject."
"But—"
"Bye Dean," Jess waved condescendingly, keeping one of his arms around Rory's waist.
"We will talk later," Dean told Rory obstinately before heading off in the other direction.
"So that was Dean," Jess said casually.
"That was Dean," she replied looking tiredly after him.
"Seems like a great guy," he said sarcastically.
"He used to be," she told him sadly. After a moment, she seemed to snap out of her thoughts. "So," she said cheerily, "when did you get in? What have you been up to?"
"The bus got in a little over an hour ago," he replied. "I unpacked a couple things and read a little. Then I go downstairs and your mom is sitting at the counter. I almost walked into a wall, I was so surprised. So then, of course, I came to find you."
"You saw my mom?" she asked. "What did she say?"
"She asked what I was doing here and if I could get her some coffee 'cause Luke wouldn't."
"Sounds like her," Rory chuckled. "And you gave it to her, right?"
"I'm not suicidal," he replied. "So then she told me you were meeting Dean somewhere around here and encouraged me to come save you."
"Yeah," she said quietly. "He said he wanted to hang out as friends, which is what I wanted so I went. And it was cool until . . ."
"What?" he looked worriedly into her eyes.
"It's nothing," she replied shaking her head gently and forcing a smile. "So how is Jay?"
"What happened?" he asked her again, unable to let the subject drop. "What did he do?"
"It wasn't a big deal," she sighed. "He just started putting his arm around me and trying to kiss me and stuff like that. He keeps acting like we're still together when we're not. He just doesn't get it."
"Well he'll get it now," Jess said, "I mean, we are picking up where we left off in New York, aren't we?"
"And where did we leave off?" she asked smiling.
"Right about here," he replied bending down to press his lips to hers again. They held that position for only a moment before he pulled away.
"That seems like a good place to be," she smiled blotting her lips together, loving the feel of his on hers after three weeks without.
He pulled back just enough to look into her crystal blue eyes. "Good," he said, and leaned down to meet her once more.