Rory rolled over onto her side, grunting softly as she slipped back into consciousness. She was so comfortable and her first instinct was to keep her eyes shut and will herself back to sleep for a little while longer, but her brain registered the scent of a familiar cologne and she remembered where she was. She was in Logan's bed. Light filtered through the curtains indicating it was morning. She wondered if Logan was up yet.
They had come to a truce last night. They were friends again. The last time she'd woken up in Logan's bed they'd been friends too. She'd still been with Jess-been wondering if she was in love with Jess. But a part of her had been in love with Logan even then. And as much as she hated to admit it, part of her still was now. She didn't want to be. Loving Logan was a recipe for heartbreak. She'd learned that the hard way already. And just as she was finally moving on, he came back and made her fall all over again.
And now she had to go out there and face him. Things were okay between them now, so it shouldn't be awkward, but she knew it would be. Because the entire time she'd be trying not to give in and just take him back. Before at least she'd had her anger and righteous indignation to help keep the distance.
She opened the bedroom door and shuffled out into the common room. Logan was sitting on the couch with a paper in his hands.
"Hey, Ace." He lowered the paper so she had a clear view of his crooked grin, just a tad higher on the left, with a wisp of a dimple. She felt herself swoon just a little bit. "Sleep good?"
She nodded drowsily, reaching her right hand up to push her hair behind her ear. Oh my god, her hair! She hadn't even combed it. She probably looked like Albert Einstein. Not exactly sexy. She frantically tried to pat it down into some semblance of neatness. "I'm sorry I fell asleep," she replied nervously.
"Mi cama es su cama, Ace."
Rory felt herself blush. "You had to sleep on the couch."
"I took Finn's bed, actually. And before you ask, yes, there were fresh sheets on it."
"Good," Rory replied emphatically. "I don't even want to think what those things look like under a blacklight."
"Oh, either do I, but apparently Finn, does, because he actually has a black light in there."
"No!"
"Oh, yes. I refrained from turning it on. Even I'm not that brave."
"Smart man." She walked farther into the common room, feeling more comfortable.
Logan put the paper down and stood up. "I got you a coffee," he told her walking over to the table where he had set it down.
"Bless, you," she replied, walking over and accepting the beverage, taking a sip and letting the warm liquid invigorate her.
"My pleasure, Ace." Logan watched voyeuristically as she swallowed the coffee. She looked blissful as she swallowed a swig full of the dark roast. He needed to keep his dirty thoughts in check. He needed to stay patient. Nothing worth having came easy, especially not Rory. She was here, in his room. She wasn't mad at him anymore. He would savor his triumph, even if he wasn't at end game yet.
"You take psych, right?" he asked.
"Umm, yeah," Rory replied, confusion written on her face.
"I had the strangest dream last night."
"Oh really?" Rory asked with raised eyebrows, pulling out a seat at the table and sitting down. Logan smiled and joined her. "Let me use my rudimentary knowledge of Jungian theory to psychoanalyze you."
"Okay, so, it was totally crazy," Logan started, settling into his seat. "I'm running for president and I win the Iowa caucus after John Kerry is injured in a freak dodgeball accident-"
"Wait, wait wait…" Rory interrupted him. "You're a democrat?"
"Shhh, don't tell my father…or Colin. He still drinks out of a 'Dole for President' mug."
"Ooh, one day I should borrow my mother's 'Dole for Pineapple, not for President' shirt. Just to see him react."
"Oh, I dare you."
"Don't challenge me, Huntzberger. You know I'll do it."
"Yeah I do. So anyway, then I go on to win the whole primary and become the official nominee. With Finn as my running mate, we fly to Australia to liaise with the new government because their country had been taken over by Fundamentalist Mormons."
"There are Fundamentalist Mormons in Australia?" Rory asked.
Logan shrugged. "I had to read A Handmaids Tale for one of my classes. So then, we get there and the Mormons turn into aliens and start attacking Sydney. We're on top of a skyscraper and one of the aliens picks Finn up and throws him off the roof."
"So are the aliens Republican? Or did they just think Finn used too much salt in his food?"
"They're Fundamentalist Mormons, what do you think?"
"Of course, how silly of me."
"So, Finn pulls the cord on his parachute and survives. Somehow, we defeat the aliens and I go on to win the election."
"Yes, because that's what your ego needs—power over nuclear weapons."
"Don't worry, Ace, you're safe with me. I would never nuke you."
"Gee, thanks," she laughed, swallowing the last dregs of her coffee. No longer having the coffee to occupy her, she found herself suddenly anxious again and an awkward silence took over the effortless banter that had been there only a moment before.
"So, you off to hand in your article?"
"Well, I should probably go home and shower and change first," She said, looking down at her rumpled long sleeved t-shirt and yoga pants. There was a pizza stain on the shirt. Just great. She crossed her arms uncomfortably, trying to hind the stain.
"Really? Because I hear the grunge look is back in."
"Kids these days," Rory jokingly lamented. "But I really should go."
"I'll see you around?" he asked hopefully as she got up from the table.
"I think our paths will cross again."
"Good."
Rory headed over to the couch area where her books and notes were still strewn about. She started gathering them up and putting them in her backpack. A spiral notebook slipped from her hands and landed on the floor. She bent down to pick it up and something stopped her. She looked up at Logan who was facing away, clearing the coffee cups from the table. Without taking the time to over analyze it, Rory shoved the book under the couch and stood back up.
"Bye," She said, hefting her bag onto her shoulders.
Logan turned around. "Have a good day, Ace," he replied with a smile.
Rory chewed fretfully on her lip as she headed for the door. What had come over her? She wasn't the kind of girl who manufactured excuses to see a boy. But then again, apparently she was. "See ya soon, Logan."
"Die, Jerk?" Someone seriously wrote 'Die, Jerk" on your door." Stephanie asked as Rory finished telling her the story. She had come home from class earlier to find that her dorm room door had been vandalized by an, apparently, very angry person. No one knew who or what it was about. Though in all likelihood, Paris was in someway involved. Paris had a habit of collecting enemies.
Rory put a piece of chicken on her plate as they made their way down the cafeteria line. "Yes!" Rory confirmed emphatically.
"That's just sad. I mean, if you're that pissed off at someone, there are way meaner words then 'jerk.' I mean, 'bitch', 'skank', 'whore'…just to name a few. Hey! Why are all the nastiest words woman specific? Well, except for 'bastard'. I think we need more words to describe male assholes…"
Stephanie's rant was cut off as they were approached by a frantic looking boy. "Hey, someone was looking for you," he told Rory.
"Oh, who?"
"It's probably better that they don't find you." He rushed off in a hurry.
Rory didn't have time to even process this strange incident as she turned away from the cafeteria line. She was approached by another student.
"You are very brave," the girl told her.
"What?"
"If you hear the rustle of tulle coming up behind you, run." Rory gave Stephanie a quizzical look but the blonde just shrugged her shoulders. She had no idea what these people were talking about. The girl walked off. Rory watched her for a second, then shook her head and proceeded to a table and sat down with her friend.
"That was weird," Rory said as she settled into her seat across from Stephanie.
"I think it's about to get weirder," Steph replied, pointing to an angry looking woman stomping across the cafeteria towards them.
"Rory Gilmore?" she asked.
"Yeah?" Rory answered hesitantly.
"Remember me?"
"I don't think so." She had no idea who the person standing in front of her was.
"That's very flattering," the girl snapped back.
"Can we help you?" Stephanie cut in.
"Let's see if this jogs your memory," she said, ignoring Stephanie. "I have the grace of a drunken dock worker?"
"Oh." Rory knew instantly who she was talking to. Sandra; she was pretty sure that was her name. She looked different when she wasn't in an ill-fitting tutu.
"Remember me now?"
"The ballerina from the ballet," Rory replied, filling Stephanie in as well as answering the angry dancer.
"That's right."
"Your outfits are made of tulle, aren't they?" Everything was making sense now.
"You're a jerk!"
"I know," Rory acknowledged. "You wrote that on my door." She knew she shouldn't have written those things in her review. How had she let Logan talk her into writing every mean thought she had? Although Doyle really had loved the article.
"You're lucky that's all I did!"
"You know, you should really get some better insults," Stephanie interrupted. "Unless you're just trying to avoid misogynistic slurs forced upon us by the patriarchy—but even then, there's got to be something better than 'jerk'. If you need suggestions you could go back and read Rory's article again—it's loaded with good insults."
Sandra shot an angry look at Steph but then turned back to Rory. "Your review was mean and petty and despicable!"
"Look, Sandra - that's your name, right? Sandra?" Rory asked, trying to defuse the situation. "This was all in the line of duty. It was an assignment from my editor, so it was nothing personal, okay?"
"You called me a hippo!"
"See, now that's a good insult—way more descriptive than 'jerk'."
Rory glared at Steph, she wasn't helping. "No, I compared you to a hippo, that's not calling you a hippo. And it was a humorous comparison. I was trying to –"
"To destroy me and my company!"
"No," Rory insisted. "And think about it—I bet that more than likely, very few people will even read the review, and most people aren't even interested in ballet in the first place." Sandra somehow looked even angrier at this. "It's unfortunate and awful and I hate it…" Rory course corrected, "but what can you do? It's Avril Lavigne's world, and we're just living in it. Plus, most people left before the end, and I stuck it out. That's something."
"I'm curious. How much ballet experience do you have? You must have a lot since you write about it with such authority," Sandra snarked.
"Well, none to speak of. I had a few years of beginners' class and I stunk."
"Anybody write about it in the paper?"
"No. Good point."
"I've been dancing three hours a day, seven days a week for fourteen years. I've done two summer sessions with the Miami ballet, and I'm on the waiting list at Juilliard, and now your review is out there for everyone to see!"
"Hello, Love," a familiar Australian voice broke in. "Has anyone ever told you angry works for you? You are truly a vision. But perhaps you could tone it down just a bit? Your fiery energy, though enchanting, is a bit much for this venue."
Sandra turned to face Finn, her scowl still firmly in place, not at all charmed by his speech or his accent. "Stay out of this, it's none of your business."
"A little tip—when you're shouting in a public space, you make it everyone's business. Also, I get a tad protective over my friends."
"Some friend, has she publicly denigrated you in the school newspaper?"
"No, but then again, my Passion of the Christ reenactment is hardly Yale Daily News worthy.
Sandra turned back to Rory. "You're a jerk! I just wanted to come tell you that to your face! You're a jerk, and I hope you die! Bye, jerk. Die, jerk." The dancer stomped away.
"Is it safe to sit?" Finn asked, motioning to the table.
"I don't think she's coming back," Rory answered.
"I wasn't talking about the ballerina, Love." Finn gave Rory a pointed look. Rory diverted her eyes and blushed slightly. The last time she'd spoke to Finn had been at the beginning of semester party two month ago. And even then, it had only been to give him the brush off. Even after reconciling with Stephanie a couple weeks ago, she hadn't hung out with the group, since she had still been avoiding Logan.
"Sorry," Rory replied, not about the misunderstanding. She meant the bigger sorry. Colin and Finn had been her friends too, and she had just written them off. They had deserved better than that. "Sit, join us."
Rory still didn't look Finn in the eyes. Finn placed his tray down and reached out for Rory's hand.
"Hey," He said, trying to get her to look at him. "Do you forgive me, Love?"
Rory did look up at this. "You didn't do anything!" Rory answered emphatically. "I was just feeling hurt and rejected and seeing you reminded me of him…There's nothing to forgive—well, there is, but it's you forgiving me."
"Well, I forgive you. I mean, who else can I talk about Protopunk music with? None of those other clowns we hang out with can appreciate the genius that was The Velvet Underground."
"That's true," Rory agreed with a shy smile. "They do have abysmal taste in music."
"Hey!" Stephanie protested.
"Well, come on, Steph, your favorite band is The Black Eyed Peas."
"You got a problem with Fergie?" she asked in a huff.
"Where to begin?"
Stephanie sighed. "Don't bother. I'll never hear the end of it." Once Rory got into a pop-culture rant, there was no stopping her.
"So, Love. Now that that's all settled. You want to meet us at the Pub on Friday—for old time's sake?
"I'm sorry Finn, I have a late afternoon class, then my Grandparents."
"Well, I know you're not a fan of the whole American Football tradition, but then again neither am I. So how about you join us for the big game Sunday. You can keep me from going mad over how they ripped off rugby."
Rory sighed. "I promised my Grandparents I'd go with them."
"You spend a freakish amount of time with your family; you know that, Love? It's very strange," Finn commented.
"I know," Rory agreed.
"I haven't seen my grandparents since last Christmas and my grandmother's had three plastic surgeries since then, so I'm fairly certain I wouldn't even recognize her if I ran into her on the street."
"I'm not giving you the brush off, I promise." Rory reverted back to the original topic of conversation. "I really do want to hang with you guys again."
"I'm gonna hold you to that, Gilmore." Steph told her with a smile. Things were finally coming together—getting back to the way they used to be. As much as she had been happy just to have Rory back as a friend, it was hard keeping it separate from the boys. Having the whole group back together would make everything perfect.
Rory returned the smile. She'd forgotten just how much she missed the lovable Australian sitting in front of her. And she even missed the snobbish but endearing Colin. "I can't wait."