A Trojan Horse

They went through all the practicalities over a ton of reheated leftover food. Rory would tell Logan as soon as possible. She didn't want him to somehow discover the truth on his own, and that would help Rory stay in control of the situation. She didn't want to raise the next Huntzberger heir; in fact, she didn't want a penny from the Huntzberger money. If Logan wanted to put money aside for the baby that was very well with her, but she wanted to raise the kid in her own terms, and the only way for her to do that was staying economically independent. If the relationship of her mother with her grandparents had taught her something, it was that.

But she still had to consider her career situation. She had her grandad's inheritance, which could do for a while, but she didn't want to spend that money, and she had already been reckless enough with it in the past, traveling back and forth London with the pretense of a book that never happened, as if she could allow herself to behave like a Huntzberger. That was the hardest pill to swallow. She had been pampered. She had never needed to get a huge student loan and repay it with hard, stable work, unlike many of her colleagues, and she could see that debauchery had made her soft.

There was only a viable way out. Freelance journalism was poorly paid, unreliable, and not really that satisfying for her. There was no way she could move on that career path with a baby in tow. And working in the bookstore was no better. Sure enough, it would allow her to have a very quiet, if simple, family life in Stars Hollow. But the money was scant and she was starting to feel trapped in her hometown already. She couldn't commit to a way of life that would end up being so unsatisfying for her in the end.

That left her with the only possible option – Chilton. Yes, she would need to get her masters to get the job, but once she did she would be in a stable, well-paid position, with reasonable work hours that would eventually suit a family life, and she even thought that teaching, although she had dismissed it at first, could be a very rewarding career path. She had seven months before giving birth, and admissions to the Comparative Literature course in Columbia were still open. If she pushed herself hard before giving birth, she could get ahead of the course to make up for the time she would be unavailable. And after the baby was born… well, she would try her best to finish as soon as possible, and if she had to work somewhere else in the meantime to make ends meet, she would have to deal with it. The masters were a sensible place to put part of her grandad's inheritance, and she would be building a stable future. And she loved literature, her longest relationship over the years.

And there was the book, her solace. Somehow, the prospect of the book made all other decisions a bit easier. She had been a complete idiot. Again. How is it that she had never thought about it, and within three minutes of seeing each other, without much info on the state of her life, Jess had so clearly pointed the path (the true path, the one of the heart) to her? How did he do it? It was like some sort of superpower he had, like he was his own ayahuasca dealer, awakening her in key moments. It was even a bit annoying. Not because of him, he was never annoying, but for her. It made her feel completely clueless. And she knew he'd be happy for her, just for making her happy, and now that she was thinking about it, she didn't think she had even thanked him for it properly.

She put a blanket over her mom, who had fallen asleep on the couch, and went to her room. So, Jess. Did he still like her? He seemed pretty cool with her at the wedding, but she had been self-absorbed and lost the precious hours they had together to catch up. Was she always like that? She really regretted having missed the chance. She knew he cared for her. Deeply. Selflessly. He did back then, when he kicked her ass about dropping Yale and not talking to her mom, and then she went to visit him in Philadelphia and messed up what they had. She hated thinking about that. It was, after all those years, a bottom low in her existence. She always avoided thinking about it, as if, by doing so, she could erase the stain that she knew would delete forever the possibility of them. Wait, was that it? Had she always counted on that possibility? It was really hard for her to think about Jess with everything else on top; she really feared the implications of that particular train of thought. But boy, had he buffed up nicely. Thinking about his body seemed much less complicated. Plus, she really wanted to. She wondered how he had got so muscular. He was a writer – was he carrying very heavy books at the publishing house? He probably was a real ladies man, how could he not be? She was sure he always had been. She felt a very uncomfortable pang of jealousy. Why was she jealous? She didn't have a right to be. But the arms. Oh, those arms. She smiled thinking about Editor McBuffin, a very hot bookworm that could talk about the great Russian writers and then pound you hard against the great Russian writers shelf in the library. Wait, where did that come from? Was the pregnancy making her super horny and cheesy? She was only two months in, but she really was. It was funny. Jess was the first real life guy she had ever masturbated to, and her first virtual orgasm. Back then, she had never invested so long in a fantasy so as to actually come, she would just rub herself aimlessly and given up after a while, content with having a small physical outlet for her fantasies She had never done it thinking about Dean. Jess was different. When they started dating, she avoided masturbating for a while. She was afraid that, by doing so, she would cross a line and that he would know, somehow, propelling things forward. It was one day, after they had been making out a bit too hard in Luke's apartment and she had felt him against her hip, that she tried when she got home. And she came. She had never done so, perhaps because she was too lazy to keep going about it, but she wasn't when thinking about Jess, she just couldn't get enough. That was also the first time that she fingered herself, but she didn't imagine that he was penetrating her. Well, she tried, but then her fingers didn't seem right, she believed he would be more… present, more overwhelming. So she settled for her fingers to represent his instead, and her hands to represent his all over her.

She quit cold turkey after he left. She didn't want to, she even tried one night soon after but started crying after her orgasm, and that was a tough lesson for her, still a virgin, to learn: that at the moment of release, one could start crying so desperately, and be so open and raw, letting everything that was bottled out. So she never did again. She thought about it when he told her he loved her but quickly dismissed the idea (after all, she was over him, right?) and again before visiting him in Philadelphia. She got close that time. After what had happened with Logan, she had taken to daydreaming about Jess, about the possibility of them, his visit so near in her memory. But she had stopped herself. It was not that she felt that she was cheating on Logan or anything, it was like a barrier she had. She closed that door when he left because the abyss lay at the other side, and she would never open it again. But the arms…

Tentatively, she moved a hand down and started rubbing herself lazily. Did he still smell the same? He always smelled so good, it was clean but not perfumed, with just a sweet hint of hair wax and the smokiness from his cigarettes, and a trace of his leather jacket. But it was not the products he used or didn't use that made him smell so good, it was just… him. His pheromones would wreak havoc on her. Would they still smell the same? Like, did those things change over time? It would certainly be a pity. Logan didn't smell like that. Logan. She was surprised that the intrusion didn't freak her out so she let it slip out again easily. OK, Jess. The way Jess kissed. Where had he learnt that? Was it him or was it them together being really good at it? She was sure he was an amazing lover. He had to be, he had this thing about him, like the way he would caress her face softly but kiss her hard at the same time, as if he was in control of a great power but gentle about it, and the promise of that power aroused her like no other. And they had only ever kissed. She started rubbing herself harder, with more purpose, and imagined his hands all over her body, tracing the path he would follow with her free hand, pinching her nipples, grabbing her hips hard when thrusting, his mouth wet on her neck, sucking her, and suddenly her dry hand was not good enough for rubbing herself so she licked it and went back at it, stifling a moan against her caressing hand. She grabbed a pillow and buried her face in it, biting it, while she chose a more purposeful rhythm for her hand, but the image in her mind was never changing, never faltering, it was him entering her hard, as she knew he would do if he got the chance – as she would want him to. Just as she reached her release an image appeared in her mind, the look he would give her if he was to come with her on their first time, so long overdue, and she was surprised by what she saw in her imagination. It was a soft look, and she recognized it, it was not dissimilar to the looks he would give her still, from time to time, sweet and caring, almost with reverence. She came and right after started crying desperately, just like that last time she masturbated after he left, and she finally understood why she had kept him shut all those years, why she had put lock on top of chain on that door, and then cried some more, because it was something too big and scary for her to name, and probably lost forever.

She heard Luke's van and the entrance door opening, and then half-heard him whispering to her mom. "Lorelai… let's go to bed. I don't think I can carry you."

"Huh? OK… How was the evening?"

"It was great. Good fun."

"How's Jess?"

Rory's heart stopped when the answer didn't come quickly.

"He's really good. He looked very happy. I met his girlfriend."

"Oh, our town hoodlum has a heart!"

Rory held her tears as she heard her mom and Luke go upstairs, and then resumed crying. How could her mom had ever doubted it? Jess had the biggest, warmest heart, a beautiful contrast to that hard exterior he had had to carve for himself. But his heart was someone else's now. The feeling was still too big and scary to name, but it didn't matter anymore, as she knew it was lost forever.