Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Gilmore Girls, actors, characters, plots, etc, that would be the wonderful people at WB. Although if I did, I'm pretty sure they'd be some big changes coughChadcough. Anyway if you do feel inclined to sue me, some people have strange urges and we must accept them for who they are, I'm currently flat broke so all you will get is a used textbook, probably on organic chemistry.
AN: Thank you to everyone who reviewed, as I said this is my first fanfic, so I will need constructive criticism, now more than ever. I'm so giddy, I can't believe people read my story!
Photoboothromance: this next chapter's for you. I nearly hyperventilated when I saw I had reviews and since you are listed first, thank you, thank you, thank you!
Rish: Thank you and I hope I can keep the interest going. Actually Tristan – oh wait I can't tell you that, you'll have to read and find out!
Sea4Shoes: Thank you also, I love Tristan too, but I haven't seen any of Logan on GG. I live in Australia, where GG was on hiatus for a couple of years so we're a little, okay, a lot behind! Anyway, I'll try to keep Logan true to form even if I haven't seen him in action.
Soulmates-exist: I love Trorys too! I didn't know about the anonymous review thing, so thank you for telling me and thanks for the review.
LoVe23: Yeah, I thought the Trory pool was a bit stagnant and there aren't many Trogan's going so I thought I'd give it a go. Thanks for reviewing.
Forever cynical: Thank you! My Year 11 English teacher told me I had absolutely no hope when it came to English, the first and only teacher to tell me so, but I've never gotten over it… until now, so I'm very grateful to you. Okay so that's a slight exaggeration, I have gotten over it, but you have certainly helped me!
FairyGirl07: I'm glad you like it! I aim to please, hope I'm updating soon enough! ; D.
Finnlover: Yeah, it will end up a Trory, but don't tell anyone! I would try to make it more Trogan, ie have more Logan, but I'm unfamiliar with his character (stupid Channel 9! See above for slightly more explanation), but I'll give it my best shot. Thank you for telling me about the disclaimer, I completely forgot, but I've gone back and done that now.
Mamashirl: Thank you! Just quietly, I like it too…!
This is for photoboothromance:
Chapter 2The evening wore on, dragging her further into her own despair. She was suffocating in the stilted atmosphere. The awkwardly polite dialogue, almost scripted, the expensive food that lacked the full flavour it should have had, but was lost in the cool air. Of course, if it tasted as good as it looked, or at least cost, the women would be gorging themselves, which did absolutely nothing for the waistline. Eventually the woman excused herself, forgoing a car-and-driver, she walked in the crisp air, feeling tension slide off her body like a corseted gown. By the time she reached her hotel, she had almost forgotten her prior ill feelings toward blonde, rich men, but that was until she ducked into the elevator as the doors were closing and came face to face with the man who had rejected just hours earlier.
"You," she snapped irritably.
"Me," he sighed, world-wearily.
"Yes, you! How dare you?" she seethed.
"How dare I reject you?" he clarified.
She didn't reply, the full weight of her situation beginning to dawn on her. This wasn't the way she normally behaved, asking men for sex.
"Look, it's not that your not beautiful, but-" he began, but was cut off by her soft lips against his.
She tasted like mint chocolate and coffee.
"No," he gasped, pushing her off him, his face flushed, lust had crept into the corner of his eyes.
"Are you gay?" the woman asked bluntly.
"No," the man replied firmly, "I'm not gay, I'm just not interested in you."
"What if I told you I was going to die tomorrow and I don't want to die a virgin?" she proposed.
Of course it wasn't true, but she was a woman on a mission and she was going to lie if that's what it took.
"Then I'd say, go to someone who loves you," he replied trying to put as much distance between them as possible, although that was difficult considering they were in an elevator.
"What if no one loves me?"
"I hardly think that's possible," he scoffed.
"But not impossible," she retorted, before sighing heavily, he was turning out to be more trouble that he was worth, "Look, I am a fully consenting adult, who has never had any kind of sexually transmitted disease, and all I am asking for is one night, no strings attached. No phone calls, no dates, no flowers, not even any names."
"Now that is impossible," he murmured to himself, but the woman waited expectantly as the elevator came to an abrupt halt and the doors glided silently open.
The man stepped out into the softly lit hallway and at the very last second, glanced back at the remaining occupant of the lift.
"Fine, just one night," he found himself saying.
Instantly the woman's eyes lightened as she followed him to his suite.
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The warm rays of sunshine caressed her face, waking her gently. The cold emptiness beside her brought her abruptly to consciousness. Taking stock of her surroundings, the woman noted she was not in a hotel suite, but not her own. She had vague recollections of the night before, but reality had blurred with a vivid dream involving dancing pink monkeys. The only thing she was sure of was that she naked, apart from a loose fitting grey t-shirt, Stanford University emblazoned in red across the front.
Slipping off the bed, she padded quietly about the room. Her companion for the night was long gone, and apart from his t-shirt, the only item he'd left behind was a note, written on hotel stationary, on a side table. The woman squinted at the neatly, printed writing, sleep still clouding her vision.
"I have an early flight. Stay as long as you like," the note read.
It said nothing about the writer and disappointed, the woman tossed the note down. Missing the table, it fluttered to the ground, ending up face down on the plush carpet. Sighing wearily to herself, the woman bent to pick it up, when something caught her eye.
On the reverse of the note, there was one word, "Rory".
The woman started. How had he known her name? She was sure they hadn't traded formalities the previous night, she hadn't wanted to attach meaning to her out-of-character actions. For a second she panicked, maybe he was known to her, but seeing her clutch on the bedside table, she concluded that he must have found her name in her purse.
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AN: That little blue button has your name written all over it…Please read and review!