Two

What on earth was he doing here? He should be out with his friends, it was open mic night at the pub and Finn had planned on singing the entire Journey album which, though disturbing, was way more appealing than this. Instead, he was sitting in another endless mansion with his parents of all people. For what? A dinner or something, which, now that he thought about it, was kind of odd – no one else was there. No boring couples from the club, no overly enthusiastic members of his mother's DAR; it was only Huntzberger and Gilmore. Now, if he had had normal parents, he wouldn't think anything of it, but he didn't have normal parents and it was starting to dawn on him that something was up. Given that he was also in a brand new thousand dollar suit that his mother had insisted he wore, he was beginning to think that whatever was up was major.

The door bell had rung and Richard and Emily excused themselves, rushing to greet whoever was apparently going to be the fourth guest. He was thankful there was going to be one more to this little awkward soiree but quite unhappy that there was no chance to form a sub-party, a sub-party he was quite hoping would take place in Richard's study with the hundred year old bottles of scotch. Such is life he sighed, feeling increasingly more hopeless.

Then she came in.

She wasn't his normal type. No, not even close. Her hair was sleek and dark, not like the teased out blondes he normally got with. Her figure was long, lean, and somehow petite, not like the surgically enhanced big-chested girls he brought to bed. And most of all, her dress, somehow her dress was incredibly revealing, but not in the showing too much kind of way, in fact she was mostly covered, it was how it hugged her body. And my God, those eyes, they held the depth of the sea within them.

This was Lorelei Gilmore-Hayden, Rory for short, who was quite possibly the biggest heiress in the country, maybe even the world. Logan only knew her by reputation, they didn't exactly follow the same circles, in fact, Rory didn't really follow any circles. Her upbringing was completely unconventional, born to society's golden couple, Lorelei Gilmore and Christopher Hayden, who were unmarried and 16 at the time, and taken away from the prying eyes of society to be raised in a little no-name town American sort of place. At least that was what Logan had heard. She really hadn't shown up on the scene until about four years ago and even then it was sparse, no, Rory Gilmore-Hayden had really splashed into society until two years ago when her mother had passed away. That was when her grandmother had gotten her hooks into her and suddenly Rory was attending events, helping host DAR events and was throw under the proverbial bus of society.

So why was he, society's very own bad boy, with his carefree attitude that had gotten him into loads of trouble more than once, in the same room with the pride and joy of all of Hartford?

"I'd like to present out granddaughter," Richard spoke, pulling Logan from his speeding train of thought, "Rory Gilmore-Hayden," the eldest Gilmore positively glowed at her name. "Rory, this is Mitchum and Shira Huntzberger," he turned her toward them and they shook hands politely, "whom you have had the joy of meeting before and this," he finished, turning so that Rory was right in front of him, "is their son, Logan."

"Pleasure to meet you," she extended her hand, "I'm Rory."

Logan stared at her hand for a brief moment, caught off guard for only a fraction of a second before rolling into the classic Huntzberger charm he had perfected all those years ago in school. He took her hand, brought it up to his lips and kissed it ever so lightly. "The pleasure is all mine," he grinned.

………………………………………………

Rory all but snatched her hand away from the tom cat in front of her. She might not know him personally but she knew enough not to get sucked into the appeal of one Logan Huntzberger.

"It's a wonder you two have never met," his mother smiled, "after all, you both are on the paper at Yale."

"The boy would need to grace the newsroom with his presence every once in a while to be 'on the paper'" his father remarked, taking a swig of his scotch.

"Wouldn't want them to think I'm cheap," Logan flashed a smile, "showing up all the time and all."

This earned a slight giggle from her grandmother, absolutely flooring Rory. That was something her mother would laugh at, hell, that was something her mother would have said. "Isn't he clever Rory?" Emily exclaimed, quite tickled and taken by the youngest Huntzberger.

"Sharp boy," Richard agreed.

"He's got some wild oats to sow," Mitchum went on, "but he'll make a good successor one day," he managed to get out with only a hint of doubt in his voice. Clearly he was hoping Logan would one day outgrow his wildness, take over Huntzberger Publishing Company, and become the son he had always wanted. Logan had obviously not demonstrated any of this, but his parents still apparently had hope.

Dinner proceeded like every other tight, stuck up dinner Rory had ever been to. She was seated across from Logan though they did not speak. What did she have to say? She knew nothing about him, had nothing to converse about. Instead, she spent the whole meal tense, just waiting for the other shoe to drop. Logan appeared to be on egg shells as well, only adding to her worry. There was obviously something going on, but it seemed as though only Rory and Logan were in the dark.

And the dark remained pitch black until after dinner, when the bomb of all bombs was dropped in the middle of the living room and Rory's world was suddenly Hiroshima, just like it had been when her mother died, and she knew, deep down, that nothing would ever be the same.

A/N: Thanks to all those who reviewed, you inspired me to get this out sooner than I intended. Keep it up!