Chapter 4: Third Period

The woman's words had left Lorelai far more shaken than she'd ever admit. Sure, it was one thing for people like Patty and Babette to insinuate things, to make lewd comments here and there. They knew Luke, they knew her. Most of the time it was meaningless anyway, probably intended to irk Luke more than anything. But this… this person? Some random wife of some random business man that her father may or may not have met at one time in his travels? Implying that she and Luke were in some way radiating 'we ravish each other on a daily basis' vibes?

Ridiculous. Luke was… Luke.

Except now she had the somewhat disturbing visual of actually following through on the woman's suggestion. God-damned power of suggestion, Lorelai shuddered inwardly. She'd never thought that way about Luke before, and she wasn't about to start now. As if thinking it would somehow bring it to fruition – the Stay-Puft Marshmallow man of awkward bathroom trysts at a hockey game in California with your best guy friend who already had a girlfriend. Because that wouldn't be awkward at all. Right, she grimaced, sure it wouldn't.

And though she tried valiantly to push the though illicit musings from her mind – reading every last word on her beer bottle, re-scrutinizing the yummy cheesy things for any clues as to the other ingredients, switching to another brand of beer for her next bottle and reading every last word on that one too, even contemplating the possibility of striking up a conversation with one of the boring insurance guys – each involuntary glance in Luke's direction just sent her conflicted mind back to those very disturbing mental images. Luke pressing her roughly against the wall in the bathroom, her hands on his belt, his scruffy chin scraping the sensitive skin of her neck, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist…

Oh God, dirty! Lorelai chastised herself, all of the sudden realizing where her daydreaming had once again drifted. She felt her face flush, feeling for sure that someone in the room would be able to read her mind and launch into a lecture on how utterly inappropriate such thoughts were.

And they were. Inappropriate. So dirty, and so inappropriate. Luke had Nicole. And she wasn't going anywhere near the role of 'the other woman,' -- especially not after the thing a year ago with Christopher and Sherry.

Of course, Lorelai reminded herself, that was all beside the point anyway. Even if he was single, he was still Luke. She just didn't go there with Luke.

Oh, Luke! Good God, it dawned on her, her eyes widening in horror – what if Luke was picking up on the vibes she hadn't known she was sending? Did he think this? Did he think she was liable to fling herself at him in raw sexual desperation at any given moment?

The mere mention of 'couple-y' vibes on the part of both of them – which Lorelai was sure were a figment of the slightly tipsy socialite's imagination – all of the sudden had Lorelai's mind racing for fear that it was not both of them sending vibes, but perhaps just her? The she was somehow pulsating with 'I want you, Luke' vibes?

Why – how – would that be the case though? She downed the rest of her beer and reached for another, as if she was sure she'd find answers at the bottom of one of the bottles.

Sick of the mental torture to which she was subjecting herself, she brought the cool bottle up to her forehead, hoping the soothing chill would give her a little reprieve.

It didn't. As soon as she felt the slick, damp glass against her skin, Lorelai was immediately bombarded with visions of last night – Luke holding ice to her bruised head, as she pranced around in her underwear in front of him. And snuggling up to him in her sleep? God, she'd practically draped herself all over him.

Lorelai cringed. She totally was sending out… vibes. Were he any other guy, things like that were just code for 'I want you, and I'm so cute and flirty, you know you want me too…' Luke had to be picking up on something. He wasn't an idiot and he wasn't blind. She felt her face redden at the thought that Luke must be thinking she was throwing herself at him.

But she didn't want Luke, Lorelai reminded herself resolutely, shaking off any and all 'vibe' thoughts. She'd never wanted him. Right?

But now she was having those… those other thoughts. The disturbing ones. Which were rapidly becoming more and more disturbing – not because of the subject matter itself, but because, somewhere deep down, a tiny part of her was actually enjoying those thoughts a little more than she probably should.

Out of nowhere, a voice pulls her from her thoughts. "Jeez, you leave any for anyone else?"

Lorelai heard the words, but their speaker didn't register in her mind immediately. Half a second later, she jerked herself out of her daze, her eyes flashing wide open as she suddenly felt Luke's presence much, much closer to her than she was comfortable with. "Huh?" she mumbled less than eloquently. At the same time, she practically tripped over her own feet in her haste to back away from him as he reached past her to point at her growing collection of empty beer bottles.

Luke's hand immediately shot out to steady her – a nice gesture, yes, and one that probably would have been greatly appreciated on Lorelai's part had it happened on any other day. Last night, say, when she was in the middle of colliding with the ill-placed wall.

But now, seeing that hand, that hand of that person, reaching towards her only brought to mind the visual of frantic groping in the bathroom, that very hand snaking up beneath her shirt.

At that moment, the only two coherent thoughts Lorelai had were, one, that she needed an exit strategy, and two, that Luke was indicating that he wanted a beer too. Killing two birds with one stone, or so she thought, she absently shoved her own bottle in the direction of his chest, "Oh, uh, here," she mumbled, turning to leave. Where she was planning on leaving to was another matter.

However, the issue of her destination was rendered moot by Luke's voice, yelling, "Lorelai!" coupled with the distinct thud of a glass bottle on thin carpeting halted her progress.

She turned back around guiltily, taking in the small damp spot on Luke's shirt, and the larger one down on his left pant leg where the beer had splashed up upon impact. "Shit," she grimaced, "Sorry…" Quickly crouching down to rescue the beer and prevent any more from spilling on the carpet, she began fumbling her way through an explanation, "I…"

Luke must not have heard her, for he cut her off with a gently teasing smile, "I didn't mean I wanted that one."

"Right," Lorelai nodded, fighting to muster up some dignity, "Right." In retrospect, yes, she knew practically throwing her half-empty beer at Luke in the midst of a mad dash to the door was probably not the best way to go about things, especially if she was trying to feign a cool, calm, collected front. Which was what she was going to have to do, despite the context in which her messed-up mind was now seeing Luke. With a slight shake of her head, she cleared her throat nervously and gestured stiffly towards the bar – and its full, unopened beers, "Do you…"

Giving Lorelai a suspicious once-over, Luke shook his head slightly, reaching past her. "I'll get it," he informed her.

"Right," Lorelai repeated, Luke's proximity rendering her otherwise mute. She cursed herself for not being able to muster up some sort of snappy, clever joke about the travesty of wasting beer by spilling it, for the absence of just such a quip had only intensified the curious gaze Luke was giving her.

"You ok?" he asked, popping the cap from the bottle he'd grabbed.

"Wha?" Lorelai blushed yet again, shaking herself from the daze she'd become lost in as she'd very intently watched Luke's hands deftly at work opening the beer. She could just imagine those same hands making quick work of the clasp of her bra. "Yeah, uh, fine," she stammered, "Fine." Determined to get Luke's focus off her – because he could read her mind, of course – and back on the stupid hockey game, she forced out the closest thing she could to normal conversation, "And the… the … hockey, and the ice… and the… whatnot?"

"Fine…" Luke replied, still looking as if he didn't believe her. Nevertheless, he tilted his head in the direction of their seats and the players that had begun the second period, "You coming back?"

"Uh…" Now she was expected to just sit there next to him, Lorelai's brain screamed. While she continued to mentally violate him, however unintentionally? For however long the stupid game would go? She couldn't even manage to stand next to him for two seconds without suffering a full-on spaz attack. But what else could she do? Luke had paid for the whole trip; she had to at least pretend she was grateful for more than cheesy things and free beer. Taking a deep breath, she plastered on a sweet smile, "Sure. Yes," she replied firmly, more to convince herself than Luke, "Ok."

Still appearing less than assured of Lorelai's 'fine-ness,' Luke squinted slightly at her as he led her back to their seats, asking, "You sure you're ok?"

Lying through her teeth, Lorelai quickly blurted out, "Headache." In truth, any residual pain from her run-in with the wall has been surpassed by the other goings-on in her head from the moment she'd caught the meaning of that woman's insinuations. But as long as Luke couldn't actually read her mind, she didn't have to reveal that fact.

"Right. And all that's gonna help?" he smirked, gesturing to her – fourth? fifth? What number was she on now anyway? – beer.

"I'm…" Luckily for Lorelai, she wasn't forced to stumble over the rest of a reply; someone scored another goal – the Ducks, she assumed, given the generally ecstatic reaction of Luke and the rest of the crowd. In any case, Luke was zeroed in on the game once again.

"Ok then," Lorelai sighed under her breath. She was half relieved to have Luke's attention focused on something other than her. The rest of her was less than thrilled to once again be left alone with her thoughts.

She lasted three whole minutes before she realized that being completely left alone with her thoughts was a bad, bad thing. So, in the only way she could think of, she tried to distract herself – she started bugging Luke about hockey. What followed was an endless stream of questions, anything and everything about the rules, the players, the teams… It was actually killing two birds with one stone, or at least that was her initial intent. Not only would she get her mind to focus on something besides the steady stream of illicit daydreams running through her mind, but it also ran the risk of Luke getting annoyed over her interrupting his precious hockey. If got angry with her, maybe – maybe? – she'd be able to turn his anger at into anger at him for getting mad at her? And it would somehow override the other…feelings she was having? Or so she could hope, anyway.

So Lorelai quizzed and questioned, exhausting all of the inane inquiries she could come up with. Not that it did any good. By the time the second period drew to a close, the only things that she'd learned were that she would never be a hockey fan – as far as she was concerned, icing was something that went on cakes and cookies, checking was a type of bank account, and anyone who gets knocked out cold should be sent to the emergency room, not back out into the game, even if he was the captain and ended up saving the game – that Luke didn't get upset over all her questions, and that the fact that he was so willing to humor her, and always while sporting that bashful smirk of a smile he had, just made him that much more attractive to her.

Needless to say, those pesky little bathroom scenarios her imagination had been conjuring up weren't going anywhere.

Though, if anything, Lorelai suddenly realized, appalled, her sultry little musings were actually getting less x-rated. Sure, there were still flashes of slick, sweaty skin, nails digging into backs… But she could also just as easily see them just walking along in a mall, as they had that afternoon, only holding hands and sneaking quick kisses behind racks of clothes. She could see herself lounging around in the apartment above the diner, curled up with him on the very same couch he'd been relegated to only a month or so ago when the Haddelstadts had showed up. She could see them together at another hockey game, at a baseball game, in matching caps and acting all cutesy and couple-y.

And that, quite possibly, was even scarier to her than those first 'jumping-Luke-in-the-bathroom' fantasies that had first showed up an hour ago.

No, Lorelai shook her head roughly, squeezing her eyes tightly closed. She absolutely could not allow herself to think like that. It was beyond wrong, and where in the hell had stuff like that come from anyway, she wondered incredulously. It was Luke, for God's sake! But she didn't even want to let herself dwell on the implications of that for the time being. Regardless of him being Luke, he was a guy who already had a girlfriend.

Quickly reaching for the abandoned game program from the seat next to her, she frantically flipped through the pages in search of anything that could distract her. She closed it again with a flourish two seconds later. It was no help. "Crap," she whimpered, sliding down in her seat. She was in so much trouble.

"Crap what?"

The program landed a full two rows behind her.

So lost in her thoughts, she hadn't even noticed Luke leave his seat, never mind his less than extravagant return. The sound of his voice had seemingly come out of nowhere, practically causing her heart to stop as she jerked back up in her seat with a hiccup of surprise. Thus the program taking flight.

"N-n-nothing," she stammered, trying to right herself as gracefully as she could manage. "Just a general 'crap,'" she joked stiltedly, trying to force her eyes anywhere but his direction.

Even as Luke sat down beside her, Lorelai fidgeted, sure once again that Luke could somehow magically read her mind and see how absolutely insane she was for thinking the things she was…

"Here," Luke's voice penetrated her thoughts once again. And then she found herself with a tray of nachos in her lap, bright orange fake cheesy 'digustingness' and all.

With a sheepish gesture to the food, Luke explained, "Well, I figured even you would get sick of the fancy crap they've got back there, and I did promise you could get these." And then he just smiled that doofy, self-deprecating smile again, looking all adorable, and perfect, and Luke.

Lorelai forced a shaky smile, looked down at the nachos and back up at him. Oh, she was in so much trouble…

Despite the utter madness that was preoccupying her mind, once the final seconds of the game began ticking down, even Lorelai found herself getting caught up in the crowd's enthusiasm. So she actually was a sucker for the storybook endings where the guy who gets flattened halfway though the game comes back to save the day and win the game. Practically a right out of a Disney movie itself.

Joining in on the clapping when the Ducks won, she almost - almost - allowed herself to forget the Luke-thoughts that had plagued her for the past two hours.

Until Luke turned to her in his own, however uncharacteristic, fit of excitement over the win.

"Can you believe that?" he exclaimed, "What a comeback! They won!"

And he kissed her.

Lorelai's eyes flew open at the contact.

It wasn't romantic, and it wasn't steamy, or sensual, or sweet, or sexy, or anything else that started with 's.'

It was fast, it was rough, it was hardly anything more than two sets of lips momentarily smushed together as one of the participating sets of lips got a little too caught up in the celebration. Luke's hands grasping the sides of her face, the briefest second when she was able to register the feeling of his lips on hers, and it was over.

Luke was right back to reveling in the victory, clapping and cheering along with everyone else in the arena. His only further acknowledgement of Lorelai at all was an appreciative, "Oh man, do you think your father can get tickets for the game 7? Or I could…"

He kept talking after that, but his voice was nothing more than a dull buzz in Lorelai's ears, lost in the din of the rest of the elated crowd.

Luke had kissed her. Kissed her. Not two hours after dragging herself to the conclusion that such an action was one she actually, possibly, probably desired, he had kissed her.

Lorelai couldn't move, her hands still frozen in mid-air, where they'd flown up to brace herself against Luke's kiss.

His kiss. Oh God, her mind wailed. He'd kissed her. And it was a horrible kiss, and he'd meant nothing by it, and he wasn't even acknowledging that anything out of the ordinary had transpired.

But it had. Luke had just dangled the proverbial carrot right there in front of her face. Only she'd just realized that she really, really wanted the carrot and he'd gone so far as to torture her by letting her have a little taste and then ripping it back away.

The carrot was Nicole's. And as much as Lorelai might want it, she couldn't have it.

More than shaken up, Lorelai knew she needed out. If she'd thought she was in need of an exit strategy when she'd spilled beer on Luke earlier, boy, was she mistaken. That had been nothing. That mental shakeup was the equivalent of a garbage truck going by and rattling the windows, not the ginormous, tsunami-inducing emotional earthquake she was currently being struck by. She needed out.

Before Luke even got a chance to notice, Lorelai, reeling and dumbfounded as ever by Luke's actions, her own reaction, and the ensuing whirlwind of emotions, grabbed Doug and made a mad dash for the door. Beating most of the crowds, she was out of the arena and in a cab in minutes.

In the cab, despite the short duration of the trip back to the hotel, Lorelai was helpless to fend off the tears that threatened. Even as she tried to blink them back, big, fat drops rolled unimpeded down her cheeks. Why did things always happen like this for her? She finally thinks she has it with Christopher, and bam, Sherry's pregnant and it's all over before it even started. She's all set to get married and the happily-ever-after with Max, and her stupid mother has to bring up trying on wedding dresses, and all of the sudden it's nope, not getting married. Even with Rory, Lorelai had just devised the plan of all plans to keep the Gilmores happy about her future college choice but still manage to avoid stuffy Vassar, and Smith, and Yale and everything else East coast - Stanford. But of course, not soon after, it was uh-oh Lorelai, haven't had your period in a while, and oh, would you look at that, the stick turned pink.

Of course, this now was the winner by far. Because there had never even been a glimmer of hope. She'd already missed the boat by miles. Luke had been with Nicole for how long already? And they were going skiing, and meeting parents... And Lorelai was just now thinking gee, maybe I'd like to give Luke a try?

Impeccable timing, as always, she chastised herself with a sniffle. She would have been fine! But big, dumb, stupid old Luke had to go and kiss her. And now she was a mess. And she still had to share a room with him, it dawned on her as she exited the cab. Shit... Fuck... At least they were leaving tomorrow. Of course, that meant she'd have to spend the entire trans-continental trip sharing the very close quarters of airplane seats with him. "Ugh,' she sighed. She'd deal with that later. First she had to make it through the night with him in the same room.

Up in their room, Lorelai bit her lip and wiped back a few more tears as she surveyed the scene. There was no way in hell she could manage sleeping in the same bed as Luke anymore. And she really, really didn't want to have another run-in with the wall. But there was no telling how Luke would take it if he came back to find her in 'his' bed again – she couldn't risk the very slim possibility that he would be okay with that and slip right in next to her. She'd have to suck it up and deal with the wall, and soon, she realized, catching a glimpse of the bedside clock, its little red numbers glaring back at her. The hotel's courtesy shuttle from the game, which Luke would probably be on, would be getting back any minute. Well, at least given the state of her emotions, she wouldn't be likely to get any sleep anyway.

So she quickly shed her clothes, putting on proper pajamas this time, and curled up in 'her' bed. When she finally heard Luke enter the room about twenty minutes later, she froze, squeezing her eyes shut and praying that he wouldn't wake her up in a fit of rage for having left him alone at the arena. He didn't.

Lorelai could tell, however, that he did hesitate, hovering uncertainly for a moment at the foot of her bed, and for a split second, she was half-tempted to sit up and demand to know what in hell he'd been thinking in kissing her like that.

But he would just demand an explanation of her bizarre behavior in return, and there was no way she'd ever be able to explain that to him. She barely understood it herself.

So she remained silent, forcing her breathing to appear deep and slow in an effort to feign sleep and just get Luke to go away.

Eventually he did. She heard the rustling of sheets across the room, and, later, Luke's own deep breathing and faint snores.

Lorelai sighed, though it eased neither the tightness in her chest nor the turmoil in her mind.

It was going to be a long night.

To be continued…