Kissing the Bully (yes, I do realize the title is a big spoiler. But so is the word Literati imprinted at the end of the summary.)
There was no doubt that Rory Gilmore had grown up.
She wasn't the awkward, fumbling 10 year old hiding behind coke bottle glasses and a paperback of Bridge to Terabithia anymore. Nope, Bridge to Terabithia had morphed into The Fountainhead and the glasses had gone adios. Half because she didn't need then anymore and half because Lorelai had accidently crushed them with the sole of her stiletto heels. What's more, she was actually (at the risk of sounding empathetically shallow)… attractive. The entire male population of Stars Hallow High could vouch for that.
Six years could do someone a lot of good.
At first Lane hadn't recognized her best friend. It had, after all, been well over the amount of time The Wrens went on break. But after a few minutes of thought process and catching a sight of the Radiohead album Rory had never returned stuck in the girl's locker, Lane came to her senses and rushed over, throwing her arms around her assumed-dead friend and nearly knocking her down as she did so.
"Rory Gilmore I thought you were dead!" Lane screamed, as the remainder of those in the hall at 8 in the morning stopped to stare at the scene unfolding, "My god, you look great! Hartford sure has some crazy chops!" After which she took the liberty smack Rory on the side of the head, "Why didn't you call me? Or write me? Not even a nice fruit basket, I would've settled for even an apple, or- Oh! Maybe a donut. It's tofu week at the Kim's house."
"Say no more," Rory replied, and proceeded to pull out a bag on which read two words that had Lane melting into sheer bliss. Dunkin'. Donuts.
"I knew there was a reason why I missed you," Lane gushed, mouth half- jammed with powdered goodness.
It was 4:00 when Jess Mariano when saw the girl. Sitting on his bridge. His bridge. His. Okay maybe not his, but it might as well have been considering no one else ever went there. Whether it was in fear of him or of the fact the creaky crumbling wood was about ready to collapse any second, he didn't know. All he cared was it was his spot, and right now there was a girl. Sitting there. On his bridge. Reading Rand of all things.
He walked right up to next to her sitting form, expecting her to look up.
Nope. Still reading
He cleared his throat.
She didn't even notice him. Jess furrowed his eyebrows, what the hell could possibly be this fascinating about The Fountainhead?
He started to speak, "Nice bridge."
She didn't look up, "Yeah."
Jess continued, "The water's nice too."
"Yup. Not an iceberg in sight."
She still hadn't looked up. Jess furrowed his eyebrows, "Hey you wanna learn how to swim?"
"I'll pass."
"Huh," And with that articulate response, he shoved her in.
She resurfaced, sputtering, "I take back my iceberg comment. This thing is freezing."
"You have my condolences," was his reply, as he settled comfortably where she formally sat, flipping open his well worn Hemingway, "Buy a furnace."
"As soon as you pay me back. You ruined my book!"
"It was already ruined, anything Ayn Rand wrote was ruined the second her pen hit the paper."
"Oh sure. And what are you reading? The Sun Also Rises? Great book—So good in fact, I snored through the entire thing."
Jess glared, "Take that back."
"Buy me a new book."
"Never."
This time it was Rory's turn to glare. Jess held back a satisfied smirk as he turned back to his reading. Clearing his mind and focusing on the—
--Water. Cold, cold water. She had grabbed his foot and pulled in him into the water. The cold, cold, cold water. The 'holy mary mother of god my ass is going to freeze off' water. Cold, cold…
He glared menacingly at the girl who had pulled him in. First taking his bridge to read her precious, crummy Rand, now this? Nuh uh, this was too much. He didn't care who this chick was, he was going to—
Pretty. Really, really pretty. He mentally kicked himself on the head, don't think about that, he scowled to himself, you're angry. You're mad at her. This girl, however pretty, just pulled you in an icy-cold lake and ruined your book.
She squinted at the boy, "You look familiar."
"Yeah, America's Most Wanted. Maybe you've seen me in there a couple of times? I'm the one who murdered those terribly annoying Ayn Rand reading little girls with a chainsaw. You'd better run while you have the chance. Run Forrest, run!"
"As much as I love being compared to a mentally disabled pingpong champion, I'm not going anywhere," she declared haughtily, ignoring the cold shooting through her limbs.
"Is that so?" he questioned, cocking an eyebrow, trying to keep his teeth from chattering.
"I was here first."
"Uh, no, actually, I was here first. I've been coming to this place forever, and if you think I'm leaving because some Fountainhead reading nut is getting a little possessive, you're out of your mind."
"Possessive?" Rory stared at him in disbelief, "If I recall it wasn't my brilliant idea to go around pushing people in a half frozen lake just because they're taking up a figment of space on your precious bridge, Jess Mariano."
This time it was Jess' turn to squint at her, "Do I know you?"
Rory frowned, or tried to frown as much as she could when her lips her shivering like Frans' frequent muscle spasms, "Still as pigheaded as always I see. Good to know some things never change."
Jess inhaled sharply, involuntarily taking in a large amount of freezing lake water as he did so, "Gilmore?" he managed to choke out, "What… how the hell… oh fuck…"
"Hm. And I see in addition to being pigheaded your vocabulary and speaking skills have improved greatly too. Good job, at this rate, you'll be passing Pre-K in no time," then finally being fed up with the cold, she lifted herself out of the water, before turning around to say, "By the way, hypothermia takes 5 minutes to set in. Keep that in mind for when your brain finally catches up with your mouth."
Jess stared at her receding back in disbelief. And then, being a guy, let his eyes travel lower.
Rory Gilmore had definitely grown up.