AN: So I used to have this episode on my computer but my hard drive crashed a while back and I lost it. Since the usual sites I get clips from have taken them down, I only had transcripts to reference and not the actual episode. So I apologize if some of my description of events is a little off. I did my best. Hope you enjoy, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter :)
Rory stared at the girl in her doorway. Paris Gellar was the last person she had expected to see standing on her porch when the doorbell had rung a moment ago. Sure, Headmaster Charleston had roped them into delivering a speech together for Chilton's bicentennial celebration, but the plan had been to work on it over the phone. Paris was dead set against spending anymore time with Rory than necessary; she still clearly felt betrayed by the conversation Rory had had with Francie regarding the student government and a certain boy who had captured Paris's heart…or at least the Gellar version of a heart. "What are you doing here?
"We have a speech to write," Paris clipped.
Rory gave Paris a funny look and replied slowly, "Yes, but we were supposed to do it over the phone. That was the plan."
"Well, it's a ridiculous plan," Paris scoffed, walking into the house. "We have to put two speeches together. We have to rehearse them, we have to hone our timing. None of that can be done effectively over the phone," Paris continued on as though she were explaining things to a five year old.
Rory shouldn't have been surprised by this; sure it was Paris who had insisted on doing things over the phone but Paris always marched to the beat of her own drummer. Things were done her way…and her way was never sane or predictable. Still, Rory couldn't help but comment, "But it was your idea."
"Oh, like you fought me on it?"
"Of course I didn't fight you on it." Rory had learned long ago that it was rarely worth fighting Paris on anything; after all, this was the girl who reveled in her ability to make people cry during a debate.
"Well, okay then," Paris commented, entering further into the house.
Rory looked from Paris to the door and back to Paris. "What, okay then? Our conversation did not just come to a close. There was not a decision made back there just now."
"Look, I'm here, we should just do this and get it over with. Do you wanna study here or in your bedroom?" Rory just stared at her. "Fine, I'll go to a payphone," Paris snapped. "Do you have payphones in this town or are you still using a town crier?"
Rory shook her head in defeat. "We'll do it here."
"Whatever you say." Rory followed Paris into her bedroom. "So, I think the first thing to do is to acquaint ourselves with each others' speeches so we can judge who hit which point best," Paris started, launching immediately into work mode. She took a seat on Rory's bed, taking off her jacket. "Here." She pulled a stack of papers out of her book bag and handed them to Rory.
Rory took the papers with an eye roll and walked over to her desk, picking her own speech up and handing it to Paris. "Mine."
"Good. Let's read," Paris said as Rory sat next to her on the bed and started perusing Paris' draft. "Why did you use this font?"
Rory rolled her eyes again. "Because I was on the crack," Rory replied sarcastically.
"Did you check these facts?" Paris continued, ignoring Rory's remark.
"Yes, I did."
"And the spelling of these names?" Paris kept her eyes carefully trained on the papers in front of her.
"Yes, I did," Rory sighed frustratedly.
"Rory?" Paris asked, finally looking up.
"What, Paris?" Rory replied, wondering what ridiculous question Paris could have now.
"I slept with Jamie." Rory's head shot up. She certainly hadn't been expecting that. "Last night, after we talked."
"Was it something I said?"
"I went over there to study and he lit a fire and then we did it. What are your thoughts on that?" Paris asked matter-of-factly, as though she were inquiring into Rory's thoughts on Principal Wood turning out to be the son of Spike's second slayer snack rather than on her sex life.
"My thoughts?" Rory choked out.
"Because I'm not exactly sure how I feel about it myself yet." Rory just stood up and walked out of the room into the kitchen. "I've been going over it in my head," Paris continued, following along. "I mean, it seemed to go pretty well. The fire was nice and thank God he didn't try to put on any ridiculous makeout music, and then it just happened." Rory pulled a bottle of water out of the refrigerator and gulped it down uncomfortably. "I was actually fairly surprised at the timing of it because I wasn't wearing anything particularly alluring, and in the moments just before the act. . ."
"Oh, God," Rory whined, not at all looking forward to hearing the details of the pre-coital period…or the coital period, or the post-coital period for that matter.
"We were actually discussing modern day Marxism in America," Paris continued on, not noting, or not caring about, Rory's obvious discomfort. "Which is not what I would have deemed a 'come and get it' sort of conversation, but nevertheless, he came and got it, and I have to figure out what that means to me on a psychological level." Rory took another gulp of water and walked away again. She did not want to be hearing this. But Paris had other ideas. "So, I thought maybe if you and I could have sort of a healthy debate about it, I could come to some sort of reasonable conclusion about how I should be feeling right about now. So, come on, talk. What do you think?"
Rory laid down on her bed, resigning herself to the situation. "I –"
"Are you pro?"
"Well –"
"Con?"
"Well –" She seriously didn't know what Paris expected her to say about this.
"Undecided?" Paris gave her another option.
"Paris, just stop talking for one second and let me get my mind around this," Rory insisted. If she had to give an opinion at least Paris could stop talking long enough to let her form one.
"Sorry, go ahead, focus." A pregnant pause filled the air. "Could you focus faster because I really need some feedback here."
"Okay, so you're telling me that you and Jamie. . ." Rory started.
"Had sex," Paris stated.
"Okay, so...were you safe?" Rory asked, trying to get all her facts straight.
Paris nodded. "Yes, it was a regular after school special."
"Well, was he nice to you?"
"Yes, he was very nice to me," the blonde confirmed.
"And the two of you had discussed this..."
"Well, I don't know that we actually discussed it, it was just sort of implied."
"Implied?" Rory asked, not quite sure how something so big could just be "implied."
"Yes, implied. When you're dating a boy and you're together for a given amount of time and you're not Amish, then the eventual occurrence of intercourse is inevitable. I mean, wasn't it with you?"
"What?" Paris didn't seriously think that she'd had sex, did she?
"With Dean?"
"No." Rory shook her head. Apparently Paris did.
"No?"
"No. I never did it with Dean," Rory set her straight.
"Oh. Well, then with Jess, right?" Apparently not straight enough.
"Um, no."
"Logan?" Paris questioned.
"What?"
"Well, I mean, come on; everyone knows Huntzberger gets around," Paris replied bluntly.
"Yeah, he gets around. He gets around with blonde, college bimbos whose bra sizes are bigger than their IQs. He doesn't get around with me," Rory snapped.
"Ooh, don't sound too bitter there."
"Bitter? I'm not bitter. Why would I be bitter?" Rory replied defensively.
"You've got a thing for him."
"No I don't," Rory insisted. She didn't. He was her friend—that was it. Sure there was that moment after the break up when she thought he was going to kiss her and she didn't think she was going to stop him, but she was under emotional distress. Besides, he wasn't really going to kiss her; that would just be insane, right?
"I can't believe it; you have a thing for Huntzberger. Are you insane? I mean the boy has probably been to the health center to get treated for the Clap more often than he's been to class."
"He's not that bad," Rory rolled her eyes. "Besides, who are you to talk? How many years have you spent mooning over Tristan?"
"I was young and naïve," Paris defended.
"It wasn't even a year ago," Rory reminded her exasperatedly. Paris had been in love with Tristan since before Rory had started at Chilton and never really got over her crush until she met Jamie the previous summer.
"Yes, but now I've found myself a real man."
"Whom you may or may not have been ready to have sex with."
"Don't change the subject, this isn't about me," Paris scolded, shifting uncomfortably under Rory's scrutiny.
"Umm, yes it is," Rory reminded her with a roll of her eyes. "You came in here and started with your, 'I had sex, let's have a healthy debate so I can decided how I feel about it' talk."
"Well that was before. Now I've decided that I'd rather analyze your screwed up love life than mine."
"I don't have a screwed up love life, because I don't have a love life. You on the other hand have a very interesting love life that I think needs to be further discussed." What had Rory's world come to when she'd voluntarily chose to discuss Paris's sex life?
Paris ignored her. "If it makes you feel any better, I've heard rumors-"
"What kind of rumors…" Rory asked, sitting up a bit straighter, before she realized what she was doing. She slumped back down and looked away from Paris. "I mean—so, you and Jaime, huh?"
"No no no! I don't think so. You want to know what people are saying about Huntzberger."
"It's just stupid gossip," Rory insisted, refusing to give in to the desire to tackle Paris and beat the information out of her—why should she care?
"Gossip that you're dying to hear—don't deny it; I can see it in your eyes."
"Paris…"
"So you're telling me that you have absolutely no interest in hearing about how slowly the line has been moving these days?" Paris goaded.
"What line?" Rory asked despite herself.
"Well actually, from what I hear it hasn't been moving at all. My cousin knows a girl who's been at the head of the line for about a month now and nothing—not so much as a patented Huntzberger smirk in her direction."
"Paris, what line?" Rory burst out in frustration.
Paris looked at the brunette girl knowingly. "See, I knew you cared."
"Fine, I care. OK? But it's just innocent curiosity, it doesn't mean anything."
"Are you trying to fool yourself, or me?"
"I'm not fooling."
"You're seriously telling me that you've never had the slightest urge to kiss that boy senseless?"
An image of Logan in front of Rory—looking deep into her eyes, his lips millimeters away from hers and getting closer by the moment—flashed through her mind.
"Oh I knew it; I so knew it," Paris said standing up in triumph and pointing an accusatory finger at her friend.
Rory snapped out of her daze and glared angrily at her friend who was practically dancing and 'I told you so' dance around her.
"I was upset and confused. I'd just broken up with Jess and Logan was being all comforting and then he …" Rory trailed off—she'd admitted too much already.
"He what?" Paris asked, wide eyed.
Rory sighed. "Nothing."
"Oh no you don't," the blonde girl warned.
"It was probably all in my head."
"Tristan doesn't call you 'Mary' for nothing, you know. You really are as innocent as all that—it's kind of sickening. But the point is, if you think there was even the possibility of something, it had to be big, so you better spill," Paris demanded, sitting back on the bed and waiting to hear the story.
Rory huffed and crossed her arms over her chest.
"Rory!"
"Fine!" she finally gave in. "It may have been possible that he might have tried to possibly kissme," she rushed the last two words together.
"He tried to kiss you?" she asked, grinning like a mad Cheshire cat.
"Maybe," Rory reiterated.
"What happened?"
"We got interrupted."
"But you would have kissed back?"
"I told you, I was upset and confused."
"You were moony and in love."
"I'm not in love."
"Lust, love—potato, patato."
"I'm not in lust either," Rory rolled her eyes.
"Rory, just give up and admit you want the boy already. Sure, he may have the hair and the chin like the fourth Bee Gee, but better women than you have fallen for it before."
"Hey!" Rory shouted.
"And of course when I say better, I mean stupider but with bigger boobs and much more sexual experience."
"Thanks," Rory rolled her eyes.
"The way I see it, the difference this time, from what I hear anyhow, is that you actually have a chance to land this whale. You could be like…Annette Benning."
"I could not be Annette Benning."
"But you want to be."
Rory paused for a moment. Did she want to be? If it was even remotely possible that Logan liked her—and he was willing to commit to her, was willing to wait for her—would she want that? She smiled slightly at the thought. Oh god, she did want that! But then reality came rushing back—those were some awfully big 'ifs.'
"Logan and I are just too different, Paris. So just forget about it, please," Rory begged, now more anxious to get out of this conversation than ever before.
"Fine," Paris huffed, but she'd seen the look on her friend's face—turns out Rory wanted the whale after all.
Silence filled the room for a moment before Paris finally spoke again. "Listen, Rory, these last few weeks, Francie got things all twisted around."
"You let her get things all twisted around," Rory reminded her.
"I know. I just tend to believe the worst in people, you know?"
"Oh yeah, I know."
" I'm…"
Rory cut her friend off. "That's okay," she said with a small smile, effectively ending the conversation. As crazy as Paris was—it was good to have her back.
"So, mate, anything good on the telly?" Finn asked, barging through the door of the common room followed by Colin.
Logan glanced up from his spot on the couch where he had been staring intently at the television. "Nope," he immediately turned back to the TV. "What time is it?" he asked, without looking away again.
"Umm, well if you'd unglue your eyes from the joys of CSPAN for five seconds to glance at the VCR two feet away you'd see it's 5:00.
"So you won't mind if I put on something else then?" Finn asked, jumping over the back of the couch and sitting next to Logan. He grabbed the remote from his friend's hands. "I think a rerun of Baywatch is on." He began flipping through the channels.
"Hey, I was watching that," Logan yelled, a panicked look crossing his eyes as he grabbed for the remote back.
"You said it wasn't anything good," Finn defended, holding the remote away.
"Dude, what is your problem Huntz. It was fucking CSPAN for god's sake. It's all house votes and…" Colin took the remote from Finn and flipped back to CSPAN to see what had his friend so interested. He looked at the scroll on the bottom of the screen and his confused face gave way to one of complete and utter understanding. He grinned madly. "…Chilton bicentennials. So I suppose this is why the lovely Rory had to bail on us this afternoon."
Logan turned around and glared angrily at his friend, before grabbing the remote control back and turning away again. "You can save the mocking for later—it's about to start," Logan growled, nodding his head towards the TV just as a bearded, white haired man finished making a speech.
"And it is with great pleasure that I introduce two young ladies that epitomize the very best of what Chilton has to offer."
"Gee, I wonder if one of these sheilas he has the pleasure of introducing has brown hair, and striking blue eyes, and goes by the name Rory?" Finn muttered.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you Paris Gellar and Rory Gilmore."
"Well what do you know, she does," Colin confirmed as they watched Rory and Paris walk out onto the stage.
"Oh no," Logan said, the panicked look from earlier returning.
"Nice 'do that other sheila's sporting," Finn commented sarcastically. "And the baggy sweatpants look is working for her too."
"And I'm guessing that would be Paris Gellar," Logan stated, referring to the shabbily dressed, girl with the ratty bun and 'someone just shot my puppy,' dazed expression on her face.
"And…?"
"And according to Ace, she's about a thousand times more anal that you on a really bad day," he informed Colin.
"And I don't suppose Chilton decided to do some sort of wacky skit and she was just really anal about the details of her zombie costume?"
"Color me crazy, but Chilton doesn't really seem like a 'wacky skit' kind of institution."
"Sorry mate, I don't have any crayons." Colin and Logan both turned to give Finn a 'what the hell have you been smoking' look, but then shrugged and turned back to the TV.
"She's starting…" Logan said, pointing at the TV where the camera was zoomed in on Rory standing behind a podium.
"'Apply yourself. Get all the education you can, but then do something. Don't just stand there, make it happen.' Lee Iacocca."
The three guys stared intently at the screen as the camera panned over to Paris and paused. Paris stood there blankly and after a moment the camera panned back to Rory whose eyes were wide and darty from panic.
"Say something," Logan urged into the TV.
"'Education's purpose is to replace an empty mind with an open one.' Malcolm Forbes."
There was another pause and this time the camera pulled out to capture both Rory and Paris.
"You think there's anyone in there? Or is she just a disheveled pod person?" Finn inquired. They all turned their attention back to the TV as Rory spoke again.
"'Education is an admirable thing, but it is well to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be taught.' Oscar Wilde."
This time there was only a brief pause as Rory glanced over to Paris, realized she was still practically comatose, and continued with the speech.
"These are only three of many countless views on the expansion of the human mind. I personally believe in all of them, and fortunately for me, so does Chilton. An institution not just because of age and standing, but because of ideas. Because it encourages ideas and it will accept nothing less than everything you have to give. This is the place where our lives start."
"Okay, good she's starting to—" Logan was cut off as Paris's voice suddenly sounded from the speakers.
"You know, it's funny, me standing here before you right now."
"And the lovely Shiela speaks."
"I've thought about nothing else for four years but this school, this big important school with all of its history and tradition and really super teachers."
"I think she's going to blow." Logan commented.
"Well, by the looks on Rory's face I'm gonna say this Paris chick isn't sticking to the rehearsed version of the speech," Colin added as he watcher Rory flip madly through the pages in front of her.
"And I dedicated myself to it completely, heart and soul, believing in its power, believing in its ability to get me where I needed to go. Harvard. I thought of nothing else. Many of you out there can attest to that fact. I was on my way and nothing could stop me. And here's the really funny thing – after four years of slaving away, I go home today and I found this."
Paris held up an envelope.
"Break-up letter?"
"Jury duty?"
"Deportment papers?" The boys speculated.
"I'm not going to Harvard. I got the tiny envelope, the one that reads, 'Sorry, Paris. We're not interested. Try again next year. Love, Harvard.' And the thing that's really funny here is, who in the world deserves to go to Harvard more than me? Have you seen how hard I've worked over these past four years? I mean, can anyone here believe that I'm not going to Harvard? I can't. I'm not going to Harvard. I am not going to Harvard. I had sex, but I'm not going to Harvard."
"And things just got really interesting," Colin said, raising his eyebrows.
"This is even better than Baywatch, mate."
"And I have to tell you that if you asked me which of those two events I thought would be the least likely to happen, it would not be the not going to Harvard."
"I don't know; some guys are turned on by crazy chick."
"Like you, Finn?" Colin pointedly asked his friend.
"I bet she's feisty but she'd have to dye her hair red."
"Thank you and good night."
"Oh Gilmore, you're a fool if you think you can put an end to this that easily."
"I'm being punished. I had sex, so now I don't get to go to Harvard."
"If that's the rule I vote we take a road trip to Harvard. Virgins to be corrupted as far as the eye can see," Finn replied wistfully.
"Paris, come on."
Rory was now leading Paris off the stage. The boys were about to turn away, thinking it was over but Paris turned around.
"She's never had sex. She'll probably go to Harvard. She's a shoe in. Pack your chastity belt, Gilmore – you're going to Harvard!"
"Holy crap!" Colin exclaimed. He immediately dug into the pockets of his cargo pants, desperately searching for something. In an instant he had pulled out his cell phone, pressed a few buttons and waved it in Logan's face. "Oh thank god."
"What?" Finn asked.
"I was afraid the shock would wear off before I got the shot," Colin replied, handing the phone over to the Australian.
Finn took the phone and looked at the photo on the screen then towards Logan who was just now starting to come out of his daze. "Bloody brilliant, mate," he replied with a grin.
"What?" Logan asked.
"Blackmail photo," Finn replied simply, handing the phone back to Colin.
"So I'm guessing by this expression here," Colin said, leaning over the couch and waving the camera phone in his friend's face, "that you didn't know."
Logan knocked Colin's arm away and glowered. "Know what?" he asked.
"Oh don't play dumb with me Huntz; you are many things but dumb isn't one of them. You didn't know your precious Ace was quite so pure."
Logan looked over his shoulder, directing his glare at Colin. "Fine, I might have assumed she and Jess…well he doesn't exactly seem like the hold out type. But her…sex life," Logan choked out. Saying those words in reference to Rory just seemed so crude. "Isn't really any of my business."
"I think this photo is evidence otherwise." Colin said, waving the phone at him again. He turned suddenly to Finn. "By the way, you owe me a hundred bucks."
"What the hell for?"
"The bet."
"You bet on her virginity?" Logan asked, completely aghast.
"God no, even we're not that sick and twisted," Colin assured him.
"We bet on whether you'd ever stop being so chicken shit, and make a move," Finn clarified.
"There's no way he's going to do anything about his little puppy crush now."
"I don't have a puppy crush."
"Fine, your deep and meaningful love," Colin clarified.
"I'm not in love with her," he insisted again. He sure as hell wasn't going to admit it to them—definitely not now. He'd never hear the end of it if he did.
"Well sure, it's easy to deny it now that you know you'll never get any." Finn replied calmly.
Logan turned around, a look of fury on his face. "Are you fucking kidding me? You really think that lowly of me? You really think I think that lowly of Rory? I like sex, yeah. I'm a twenty year old guy, but I would never—" He was too angry to even come up with the right words.
"So you're going to tell her how you feel then?" Colin asked.
"I don't have feelings to tell her about, but if I did, I wouldn't dismiss them—or her—just like that because I didn't want to not get laid. That's sick man." Of course that was only half true. He had feelings—of course he had feelings. But Colin was partially right. He couldn't act on them—not now. Ever since her break up with Jess, ever since their almost kiss, he had thought about the right time and the right way to let her know how he felt. Did he ask her out on a date? Did he just walk up to her and kiss her? Did he just come straight out and say it? It was weird, worrying about these things. He'd never had to worry before. Normally girls just threw themselves at him and he responded. Every once in a blue moon he would hit on them and he'd get turned down—but one or two rejections never really mattered in the long run. But he couldn't screw things up with Rory. If he made a move and she rejected him, he'd be screwed. Their whole friendship would be in jeopardy.
Of course, none of that mattered anymore. He'd questioned before whether or not he could give Rory what she deserved and he'd decided that he couldn't make any guarantees but he'd do whatever he could to make that happen if she'd have him. Not now. There was no way he could risk it. This wasn't about him 'not getting any' as his friends had so eloquently put it; it was about self control—not something Logan Huntzberger was generally well known for. Could he be that close to her and not be with her? What if got to be too much? What if he lost control? What if he hurt her? He wouldn't do it—he couldn't. Rory Gilmore was now officially, more than ever, off limits.