►Chapter Five◄

"Rory Gilmore, I'm telling you." Paris grabbed the hem of my skirt. "This isn't going to get you anywhere."

My brows furrowed as I looked down at the black, smooth fabric reaching my knees. "What's wrong with this one now?"

For the past hour, she had been nitpicking about my outfit for my date with Logan. I kept telling her that it's not even considered a date since he clearly wasn't interested in a relationship. But, of course, nothing stopped Paris.

"How old are you?" She glared at me with her hands on her hips.

I sighed as I slumped down onto her bed. "Why does that matter?"

She was stalking to the closet like a tornado through an unfortunate village. "Unless you're sixty or obese, you have no excuse to wear that plain knitted sweater and old lady skirt over black tights on a date with a millionaire."

"He's not a millionaire." I rolled my eyes. "And I got this recently. It's classy and cute. Black skirts are timeless and they go with anything."

"Anything?!" She spun around, her eyes looking to kill. "Anything is not something you wear on a date. Especially when he's a handsome, rich man with fabulous genes that can do wonders for your next generation."

"Oh god. Not this again." My head tilted back as I stared at the ceiling.

I heard Paris' footsteps harass the floor until she sat down beside me. "We're not getting any younger, Rory. You need to consider your reproductive tract. Those poor eggs are popping one by one. Soon, you won't have any good ones left."

My head drooped. "Paris, can we please not talk about this?"

"You don't understand the severity of the issue! I told you endless times to come with me to the fertility clinic to freeze those precious eggs of yours." Her voice was getting more urgent by the second. This was one of her many favorite ways to torture me to death. "You have good genes, Rory. You eat like a starved Viking without gaining a pound, and you can memorize historical details with a bat of an eye. It would be a crime to not pass them on."

"Paris, thank you for the compliments, but I still have plenty of time to pass on my genes." I tried to reassure her since she looked like she might explode out of anxiety over my aging ova.

"Numerous scientific papers have shown that the risks of defects occurring in female reproduction proportionally increases with age past 35."

Medical school had, no doubt, gone to her head. Now, it was a miracle if she didn't start every third sentence with something about papers.

She added. "You're almost there."

"I'm not almost there." I frowned, my voice a tad defensive. "I'm five years away. That's half a decade. A lifetime to a guinea pig."

"Don't fret, sister." She scooted closer. "Lucky for you, Doyle and I have got embryos frozen at the best clinic in New York." She said it like they were bell peppers she purchased at the local market. "Since we're going to try right after we get married, we won't need them anymore." She grabbed my hands and looked me in the eyes. "You are definitely welcome to use them."

"Ew!" I shoved her hands away.

"Research has shown that the quality of the offspring is not significantly different than those conceived naturally."

"What?" I gaped at the serious expression on her face. "Paris, I don't want you and Doyle's frozen embryo anywhere near my uterus." My face flamed at the sentence that came out of my mouth. Now that was a phrase I thought I'd never say.

"Don't worry, Doyle's genes for height are most likely recessive since his siblings are all-"

"Oh my gosh!" I cut her off and raised my watch. "Look at the time. I've got to go or I'll be late."

"I thought it's at five?"

"Oh no, no. It's at four-thirty." I gave a quick smile with sweat forming on my forehead. "I've gotta go. Don't wanna keep Mr. Millionaire waiting."

"Oh, okay then. Oh wait!" Her body snapped up.

She ran to the living room, leaving me to wonder what she was up to now.

I heard drawers open and shut before she came back with my purse. She passed it to me. "Don't forget your purse."

"Um, thanks." I took it.

The date wasn't until five. But sitting in a café alone was a million times better than sitting with Paris and listening to her discuss the aspects of her frozen embryo in my body. Therefore, I grabbed a book from my suitcase along with my jacket and scarf, and headed out.

►It's about time◄

When I arrived at the café just down the street, it was only four twenty. Ordering a caramel latte, and then finding a table for two in the corner of the room, I dug out my book and started reading.

Soon, I was immersed in Heathcliff's life in Wuthering Heights, a moorland farmhouse far away from modern day New York. Flipping page after page, time was no longer an issue on my mind. I had traveled back to the 1800s.

"Emily Brontë. Didn't peg you as the classic novel type of girl." The smooth voice disrupted my time travel.

My head snapped up to meet Logan's eyes, which brought me back to the 21st century. He had on a dark grey jacket over a white linen shirt. His hair was moist on the tips, likely from the fog outside. I confess he looked even better than I had remembered.

Licking my lips, which somehow dried at the sight of him, I said. "Hey." I checked my watch and saw that it was five-thirty. I frowned as he sat down across from me. "You're late."

He gave me a smile, his eyes shimmering under the bulb above us. "Sorry, I had some business to take care of."

My frown only deepened. "Did you at least message me to let me know?" I pulled out my phone from my purse and checked the screen. No messages from the website were on display.

"No, I didn't know it would take this long." He shrugged and flipped open the menu.

Argh, this guy. "Do you always let the girl wait for half an hour without as much as a sincere apology?"

He looked up from the menu, a smirk on the edge of his lips. "I'm sincerely sorry. It won't happen again." He flashed a big, closed-mouth smile and nodded at the book in front of me. "Besides, you looked pretty occupied."

Shaking my head, I tucked the book into my purse. "Forget about it, let's just order something." Under my breath, I vowed to never go out with this guy again.

He reached over and touched my arm, the coolness from his fingertips making my hair stand up. I held his gaze.

"I'll treat you to whatever you want to prove my sincerity." He was clearly trying to keep a smile at bay. "Please forgive me?" He tilted his head to a side, his eyes round and shiny while his lips donned a sad curve.

Rolling my eyes, I grabbed the menu from him. "You'll be sorry."

His smirk was now on full display. "Had a light lunch?"

"Nope, had a ton." I looked down at the menu. "But, that has never stopped me before."

►It's about time◄

"You're kidding me." He shook his head with pursed lips. "How can you enjoy such a broad variety of genres?"

"Excuse me for being open-minded to things."

We had been debating about our different tastes in movies when it came to classic love stories for the past hour. Mostly, how he didn't think they depicted real life and, therefore, shouldn't be watched, while I thought he was a stone-hearted pessimist when it came to love and relationships.

"You read classic Gothic novels-" He points to my purse containing Wuthering Heights. "-and yet talk to me about content-less, cheesy movies like Pretty Woman like its the bible."

"Books and movies are different." I clenched my purse beside me in response."And, no, I wouldn't go as far as calling Pretty Woman the bible. But, movies like Casablanca are a completely different story."

"Don't even get me started on Casablanca." He waved a hand with a smirk.

I crossed my arms in front of my chest. "Have you even watched it?"

"No." He shrugged. "And I'm not planning to."

Shaking my head profusely, I said with a bit more force than I meant to. "It's one of my mom and I's favorite movies. Do not speak ill of it if you haven't even seen it."

His eyebrows shot up. "Woah, sorry." A grin split his face as he leaned towards me. "Maybe, for you, I'll give it a try."

His sudden closeness made my cheeks flush. Taking in the dizzying scent of his cologne, I looked away. "Hey, don't do me any favors." The corners of my lips couldn't help but lift. "It's your loss, missing out on one of the best romantic films ever made."

Logan chuckled as a ringtone filled the air. My head turned to the sound.

He reached into his pants pocket and held up a finger towards me. "Sorry, one second."

I nodded and focused on my coffee.

"Hello?" He held the phone up. "Yes, Cindy! Of course, I remember you."

I almost choked. Did this guy seriously have numerous women on standby?

His eyes darted to mine as he smiled faintly. I didn't know if it was for me or the phone conversation, but gave a dry smile back.

Checking his watch, he nodded. "Mmhm, yup. Tomorrow works." He observed the table. "Okay, I'll see you then."

Clicking off his phone, he put it away while looking at me. "So, where were we?"

"Got a date tomorrow?" The question came out without filtering through my brain.

He looked taken aback, though keeping a smile. His eyes bored into mine as if deep in thought. Finally, he said. "In fact, yes."

"Hm." My mouth twitched. "You're shameless in your womanizing ways."

He smirked. "I'm single, so I don't see why I should be ashamed of having a date."

Frowning, I said. "Well, I thought that's what we're doing here. So, it's rude to be picking up another date right in front of your current date. And you should know about rudeness, since you took the time to define it last night."

"Touché." He pursed his lips and nodded. "But, we never specified that this was a date."

"Right. Right." I scoffed, my head nearly exploding from irritation. I grabbed my purse and turned to him. "Because the fact that we met on a dating website could make it hard to interpret the nature of this outing."

Fed up with him, I stood up to leave. I wasn't going to be one of his many playmates. I had a lot more self-respect than that, no matter how good-looking he was. When I brushed past him, his hand caught my arm, making me turn around. His hold was firm, but gentle.

I glared at him while he looked down briefly and sighed. "Look, I think you're a great catch. But, the truth is, I also know that you're looking for something serious." His solemnness caught me off guard. He shook his head. "And I'm not it. I'm not going to pretend I am."

Staring at him and not believing how he thinks he knows me so well, my mind was imploding with expletives I wanted to scream out. Eventually calming down a tad, I said with as much ease as I could muster. "Thanks for letting me know. I'll be out of your hair in an instant if you could just release my arm."

At my words, he quickly loosened his grip as if he was afraid I was hurting. Looking at him for another second, I turned to leave.

"Rory. Wait." His voice stopped me in mid-stride.

I heard the chair squeak as he stood up. I could feel his warmth behind me, and his breaths on my neck. My legs started weakening at the sensation pulsing through. Damn him and his effect on my body.

Carefully, I turned to face him. "What?"

Locking my eyes with his, he said. "I really want to get to know you better. We could be great friends."

"Friends?" I asked, thinking I might have heard him wrong.

He smiled, his eyes twinkling with warmth. "I'm not gonna lie. I think you're smoking hot-" His mouth spread further into a full grin. "-but I also think you're damn interesting. Sleeping with you would just ruin my chances of seeing you more. So, the only way to do that is if we stay just friends."

I cocked an eyebrow. "So, you're admitting that women you've slept with and never called back think of you as a disgusting pig, and, therefore, never see you again."

He gave a deep chuckle and bowed his head. Raising an eyebrow at me, he said. "Well, I definitely think you would."

Seeing his knowing smirk, my expression softened.

"So, you wanna sit down and chat some more, friend?" He pulled out the chair beside him and gestured with a tentative smile.

"Not so fast." I held out a finger. There was no way he was getting his way so easily. "I'll think about it. Maybe, I'll send you a message when I have an answer. Or maybe not." I shrugged and was turning once again to leave.

Before I could, he placed a hand on my shoulder. "At least let me drive you home, then."

I pursed my lips, as if thinking over his proposition, while the amusement in his eyes deepened. Though Paris' place was only two blocks away, somehow, it was hard to say no.

I gave another shrug, but, this time, a smile couldn't help but sneak through. "Sure, if you insist."


Thanks for reading!

What do you guys think about Logan's character (being a 32 yr old womanizer and all) and his request to be just friends with Rory? The next chapter is going to be interesting and I'm itching to write it.

I'm working on finishing Ch 21 of LoF today. Hopefully, I'll have it up by tomorrow :)

Thanks for your reviews and follows!