A/n: okay guys, thanks heaps for all your reviews! I totally appreciate every single one of them – keep it up with all your feedback and I'll be sure to take ALL of it into consideration. In reference to some reviews: yes jess/Paris did seem to be a bit icky at first but the more I think about it, the more I think they'd be great together. They compliment each other in that Paris can help jess become that little bit tamer whereas jess can aid Paris in occasionally letting her hair down [and we all know jess like blondes ;)] and another thing, I know some of you are desperate for it to be a trory, because you just lloooooooooove Tristan [me too] but as I said before this is going to be a UC [UC means unconventional couple ;)] so I hope this will be interesting for you. As to whom Rory's man will be…only I and my partner in crime – oregano, because she's lovely: D – know who that man is. Those who speak to me regularly on a personal level will have an idea because I've been raving about this couple – BUT DON'T SAY YOUR GUESSES ON THE REVIEW BOARD! If you think you know who it is, feel free to email me and if you are right I may let you know :D but don't spoil the surprise for everybody else. Enjoy this chapter, and I'll be back soon!
Chapter two
Well, mom, I spoke to jess about my problem last night.
Lorelai grinned back at her.
He basically told me to stop sitting on my keester waiting for the guy to walk my way and to get out there and find him myself.
Lorelai grinned back at her.
You know you're much easier to talk to this way. No quips about jess…no remarks on how I don't have any guy-friends, except jess…no comments on how unlike yourself I am…no I told you so's… remind me to thank Jackson. Lunch break is over now, talk to you later!
She turned around her photo-customized coffee mug and went back to her PC.
Take a step back.
The office isn't that spectacular. Filled with trendy colored cubicles and funky artworks on the wall, it attempts to be the height in office fashion – the workers there are all bright, blonde, sparky researchers and presenters who buzz around the corridors all day just sassing, backstabbing, gossiping about and flirting with their co-workers. All except one. It is in such an environment when Rory's true qualities begin to shine. Juxtaposed against such materialistic values, Rory beams with her humble outlook on life. She is either ignorant of or ignoring the men who repeatedly walk past her desk. She is so absorbed in her work she doesn't hear the queen bee's petulantly flap their bleached, laced wings while telling the nearest soul who'd listen about Rory's past life – her life before this modern world of television.
"Did you hear?"
"She came from a bumpkin little town in Connecticut…"
"Something to do with stars"
"She was a bastard"
"Obviously"
"You can tell"
"But she was always rich"
"Was she? I heard she lived in a shed"
"No she lived in a mansion"
"Didn't you know?"
"She went to that stiff-upper-lip snob school"
"Oh ...whats it called bilton?"
"She married DuGrey"
"He cheated on her"
"Well, look at her!"
"What do you mean?"
"She's every mans dream"
"Then, why?"
"You always want what you can't have – and when you get it, it bored you. Or at least it bored DuGrey"
Rory sat on her own, thumbing through her papers, truly unaware of the talk that flew past her ears. She sits at her wide wooden desk, succumbing to a world which always fascinated her – the written word. Hunting through copious amounts of html codes, she researched her new topic for the week, her fingers fleeting across the keyboard, attempting to type up her vast knowledge. Her Yale study skills providing her with the 110 wpm typing rate that she was so proud of. Mid –sentence, her designer phone chimed. She answered it, still typing with her right hand.
"DuGrey's desk."
"Are you still using that name at work?" the sound of her childhood friends' voice filled her heart with a warmth she never usually felt in such a cold space. She felt her lips curve upwards as she bent her head slightly so as to not attract attention.
"I wouldn't be answering with the name if I wasn't using it, Lane," she scolded.
"But you can't be affiliated with him anymore – scum, lowlife, no good, good for nothing," she trailed off, "okay I'm definitely going to have to get a dictionary and make a bigger list of my descriptive words."
"Duly noted, I'll get you one for your birthday," Rory said, penciling 'dictionary/thesaurus' into her notebook.
Her friend was quiet for a moment, and then her voice came back, small and hopeful, "Along with the best of 90's album?"
Rory laughed, "along with the best of 90's album. So, Lane Kim, how can I help you?"
Lane took a deep breath and commenced her tirade, "Well, Miss Rory GILMORE, you rudely snubbed another of my fix-up's for you last night and in order to fully restore my respect for you: you are coming to dinner at our place tonight to meet Troy."
Rory's eyebrows were furrowed in confusion, "I thought his name was Geoffrey?"
"Well, you obviously didn't like Geoffrey, so I got you a new one."
Rory groaned, "Please tell me you didn't just hold up a picture to a guy in the street, saying 'will you date this loser?' "
"NO!" Lane sounded shocked, and then hesitated, "I would never call you a loser!"
Rory thumped her hand against her forehead, wailing, "LANE!"
"Oh come on, Rory! Please?" she begged, "I'll get Dave to cook that Indian dish you like…?"
Rory was silent.
"Please, Rory? He's a nice guy, he is good looking too! And he doesn't stutter- I know you hated the stutterer…" she tailed off once more, "Rory?"
Rory raised her eyes to the ceiling, "okay. Fine," hearing her friend rejoicing, she kept talking, "But only because I want your house to smell wretched instead of mine!"
"Excellent! We'll see you around 7.30, okay?"
"Alright," she grumbled.
"Bye!"
At seven o'clock, Rory felt the itch again. She was dressed up tonight in an elegant black pants suit, with a starched white shirt buttoned up to her black lacy bra and her favorite black stilettos. A killer outfit for a power - woman on the hunt. So why was this power-woman, for that label did indeed encompass Rory at the time, lying prostrate underneath her bed? She laid her head to one side, so as to not disturb her perfect high ponytail – just incase she felt like going. She pondered changing into her pajamas again when she heard a key fumbling in her lock. Rory was about to reach for the baseball bat she had stashed underneath her mattress when a male voice reverberated through her hallway,
"Roo-oory?" it called once, she could hear his footsteps moving through her rooms, "Roo-oory, its Daa-aave!" Rory's head kicked up an inch, "Lane honestly believed you would show up tonight but I had a sneaking suspicion you might not…" he tailed off. She could hear him moving stealthily through the apartment, checking in cupboards and under tables.
Suddenly he was in her room.
He saw her, because what she didn't realize was that her favorite killer stilettos were sticking out from underneath the bed where she lay.
He pretended to look around the room before walking out of the room and standing in the hallway, saying, "oh well, I guess you're not here! I must have just missed you then!" he sighed, "but that's just too bad because I brought some coffee with me for the ride – I guess I'll have to drink it all by myself."
He saw her foot twitch as he took off the lid and let the aroma fill the room, he smothered a laugh and took an exaggerated sniff before groaning with pleasure, "gee, it smells good! Oh well, too bad Rory can't have ANY when she gets back to our place – you know how Lane's gone off coffee…"
"Alright, alright, alright!" she cried, scrambling from under the bed, "You got me, big whoop – now give me the coffee, evil temptress!"
She grabbed the drink from his hand, avoiding his laughing eyes, and sculled the delicious hot java.
He took a swig from his own cup, and then said, "I'm a temptress? Looky at you, all dressed up ready to hunt the fresh meat!"
She leaned against her bedroom wall and grunted, narrowing her eyes at him, "you tricked me- I don't have to take compliments from you."
He laughed and shook his shaggy brown hair from his face, "no – I played you," he nodded at her pointedly, half smiling, "big difference. And why stop taking compliments from me now? You've been begging for them for years!"
She rolled her eyes and playfully smacked him on the arm, smiling at him, "it can't hurt to boost my poor," she pouted, "fragile," she put on her baby voice, "ego."
He just laughed at her.
They stood in silence for a moment, mulling over their own thoughts, until she stood up straight and looked at him expectantly, "so how long can we stay here for?"
He pretended to think about it for a moment before grabbing her and throwing her over his shoulder in a fireman's lift. "I think now is good to go, don't you?" He said, striding down the hallway.
She squealed and thumped his shoulders in protest before whining, "Can't we at least have cake first?"
He froze, "what sort of cake?"
She grinned, "Triple chocolate! I am my mother's daughter, you know."
He sighed and put her down, "almighty god, thank you for this glorious day!" He turned to her, "come on then, Momma always told me to never pass up an opportunity to eat cake!"
"Sounds familiar."
She giggled and took the box from the fridge. Dave smirked, "what, you didn't cook?"
Rory gave him a withering glance, "ha - ha, mister comedian, didn't you see me on Master Chef last week?"
He smiled at her then sat down and watched her take two plates and two forks from her drawers and place them on the counter along with the cake.
After cutting a huge slice for her self, and passing the cake to him, she said, "so how come you knew I'd be hiding?"
"Intuition?" he said, with a hopeful edge in his voice.
She groaned and looked painfully at him, "oh god, how bad is this one?"
He winced, and looked apologetic, "well, he's not as bad as Nigel, but he is worse than Timothy."
Her eyes bulged in shock, "Nigel had a gastric problem and Timothy stared at my boobs the entire night! This new guy is worse than Timothy?"
"Yeah," he nodded, "I think he's more of a butt person."
"Oh god," she moaned, "and you left Lane alone with him - poor Lane!"
He raised an eyebrow, "I was thinking more along the lines of 'poor me'… If you catch my drift."
She dropped her fork, "No way!"
"Yes way, indeed!"
"Oh my god!"
"Rory, why do you think I came to get you?"
She started to laugh, "My date cracked on to you?"
He nodded slowly and chewed on his bottom lip, "maybe he was trying to be polite…"
She bobbed her head somberly, "yeah…"
They both stared at each other, both trying to hide smiles, before bursting into peals of laughter.
"He wanted your sexy ass!"
"Hey, who wouldn't?"
Take a step back.
We see two twenty-eight year olds sitting at a kitchenette counter on their way to a dinner party, stuffing their faces with chocolate cake and laughing about the dinner guests. Normal behavior? Of course. We take a look at the couple we see, this girl – dressed to perfection as always – her brown hair slicked back off her face into a tight ponytail, contrasts with the young man at her side. He is handsome, no doubt about it, with his shaggy brown hair and deep chocolate eyes, his obvious reluctance in dressing up shows through his creased black shirt and baggy black pants. We've learned he is friendly, funny and willing to take flack – all the more reason to look at his left hand and notice that, sure enough, he wears a gold band on his wedding finger. But then again, so does she. We have learned that at work she is a wanted woman, but in her own home she lacks the courage to be wanted. Maybe this dinner party will bring about a turning point in her life. Maybe she will meet the man she dreams of. Maybe. Always a Maybe. On their way to a dinner party, stuffing their faces with chocolate cake and laughing about the dinner guests. Normal behavior? Of course.