A/N: This chapter took forever, (but it's LONGER, does that make up for it?)
Thanks so much to the reviewers, ya'll are totally helpful and inspirational - thank you, thank you, thank you.
Six
Rory didn't know what to wear. It didn't help that Logan's text that afternoon had included nothing but a time and the phrase 'dress'. She stood in front of her closet, flicking through her clothes, completely drawn a blank.
She grabbed her new dress, the one that her grandmother had insisted she buy on their last shopping excursion, another attempt to fill Rory's wardrobe "with appropriate clothing suitable to someone of her status". The top was a lapis blue color halter, the waist was high and the bottom resembled a black pencil skirt. Rory had to admit it was a beautiful dress; it brought out her eyes and hugged her figure well. She picked her favorite black peeped-toe heels, reveling in having an occasion to wear them finally and changed, resolving that it was Logan's fault if she wasn't dressed appropriately. She fixed her hair, opting to keep it down in loose waves, put on minimal makeup, and grabbed a small black jacket, heading for the common room.
"And where are you off too?" her roommate Paris asked, eying her unusual attire.
Rory hesitated, imagining Paris's response to her answer. "I have a date," she finally admitted.
"A date?" Paris replied, unable to hide the shock in her voice. Rory knew why, after all she didn't date much, or well, at all lately. After failed relationships with her two high school flings and a disaster in dating her first blue blood, Rory kept to herself. With everything the past two years had dumped onto her she just didn't have the time or energy to invest in romantic endeavors.
"Don't act so surprised," Rory focused on filling her small clutch with her handbag essentials. She was trying her best to avoid eye contact, knowing what question came next.
"With who?" Paris asked, going from pesky roommate to snooping reporter in ten second flat.
Rory looked to her, trying to think of how to proceed without getting tangled in the tornado that would be her reaction when the doorbell rang.
Their eyes met, "Paris no," Rory shouted as both girls went running toward the door, Rory losing.
Paris opened the door, looked at the ringer, and slammed the door in his face.
"Rory!" Paris exclaimed. "You do know who that is right?"
"I know," Rory said.
"Why on earth," Paris asked her voice dripping with disdain.
"Because, we met at a function and we talked, and he asked, and I said yes!" Rory answered, moving past Paris to open the door.
"But it's…" Paris drifted off in total disbelief.
"Logan Huntzberger," he finished for her as the door opened. He was wearing a suit that was perfectly cut to his frame. Rory tried not to stare, tried not to admit how handsome Logan really was, but at this moment in time, she was failing miserably.
"This is my roommate and good friend Paris Gellar," Rory finally spoke.
"Nice to meet you Paris," Logan extended his hand.
"This can't be happening," was all Paris said before turning and disappearing into her room.
"It's not you," Rory tried to explain.
"Seems like it might be me," Logan joked.
"No, really. That's just Paris. Plus, Paris knows…" she drifted off, immediately regretting where that conversation was headed.
"Knows what?" Logan pressed.
"Knows I don't date much," she finally admitted.
"I don't see why not, Ace," he replied, giving her a once over, "you look fantastic."
"Ahh, more classic Huntzberger charm," she smiled
"Only the best for my soon to be girlfriend," he whispered so that Paris wouldn't overhear. "Are you ready?"
"I am, but what exactly are we up to?" she questioned as they walked out her dorm and headed toward his car, away from any prying ears.
"Well, considering I've never been serious with a girl, this will be new to the both of us." Logan reminded her, "So first a dinner at an upscale place in Hartford…"
"Where we'll be seen by the right people," Rory finished for him, "and that will get the gossip phones ringing off the hook."
"Exactly," Logan said.
"And after?" Rory asked, picking up on the mention of a first, clearly meaning there would be a second.
"Second," he answered, "since this is going to progress from date to relationship seemingly overnight, I think it's high time you are introduced to my friends."
"Oh," was all Rory could manage to say, a knot beginning to form in her stomach.
"You okay?" he asked, sensing her unease.
"I just," she stammered, "I just, I mean I knew we'd be lying to people, I just didn't make the connection, I didn't think about the having to lie to our actual friends part."
"Well, it is part of the deal we made isn't it?" he questioned.
"Yeah," Rory answered, the actual reality of their situation dawning on her.
"It'll be okay," Logan tried to reassure her as she went quiet and still, spinning that ring on her right hand like she had been doing the night before.
"I know," she nodded, lost in thought.
"What's the significance of the ring?" Logan asked, trying to get her mind off whatever it was that was making her uncomfortable.
"Huh?" she asked, more caught off guard than confused.
"The ring," he pointed, "you were wearing it last night and now tonight. I figured it must be significant."
"It's a bit much huh?" Rory laughed, spinning the three-stoned, 3 carat ring with her thumb. "It belonged to my great-grandmother Lorelei Gilmore, my mom and I always referred to her as Lorelei the First," Rory explained. "My mom always wore it, so now I wear it. It's one probably the only thing I have of her that is Emily approved."
"It's very nice," Logan said, thinking how strange it was for someone that he knew to speak of their mother in such endearing terms.
It was Logan's turn to get quiet, his mind reviewing how drastically different his life and Rory's had been. Now this poor sheepish girl had been throw to the wolves, with Logan the big bad in terms of suitors. He couldn't help but wonder why on earth her grandparents had not only chosen him but had even gotten to the point to think of putting him on the list.
Finally, after what seemed like ages, Logan pulled into the drive, bypassing the parking lot, heading toward the valet instead. They were at a restaurant that Rory had only ever dreamed of dining at which boasted complete French cuisine. "You ready?" he asked putting the car in park.
"As I'll ever be," she smiled her biggest fakest smile as Logan got out, heading toward her side of the car and opening the door. He extended his hand and gently glided her out.
"Just act natural" Logan whispered in her ear as he took by the arm, tipping the valet and heading toward the opening doors.
"I'm trying," Rory admitted once they were inside as Logan took her coat. She knew she was far too tense and if she didn't calm town someone would notice how tight she was wound. Logan returned and they walked up to be seated.
"We have a reservation," Logan informed the hostess, his hand suddenly on her elbow and then slowly, but somehow naturally, moving to the small of her back. Rory held back a gasp, it had been a while since someone had touched her so intimately and she felt herself melting into his palm.
Calm and natural, she reminded herself.
"The name?" the woman snipped, as if she didn't have the time of day for the two young people.
"Huntzberger," Logan replied sternly and Rory caught his annoyance at this woman's lack of respect.
Her face went white, clearly knowing the name, "Yes of course Mr. Huntzberger, right this way," she fiddled with the menus, almost dropping one, visibly flustered as she led them into the main dining room to a small table toward the back.
The lighting was dim, but even in the dark Rory managed to pick out several high profile couples. The Senator and Mrs. Holden were situated at a large table with Mr. and Mrs. Johnson, both of which were close friends of the Huntzbergers and the Gilmores so both Logan and Rory waved. There was also Mr. and Mrs. Hamilton, who owned Hamet Insurance Co., Gilmore Insurance Group's biggest competitor and at another table were Mr. and Mrs. Wellington, who owned Wellington Publishing House. Those couples alone would have been enough to cause a splash with Rory and Logan's appearance together, but there were also at least 10 other people that Rory recognized from events and gatherings, though she couldn't place their names.
Logan pulled out Rory's chair and situated himself across from her. Their table overlooked the golf course and one look at the menu prices almost made Rory choke on her water; the Huntzbergers don't play for cheap she realized, as if none of the other signs she had witnessed had truly gotten that message across to her.
Logan ordered a very expensive bottle of wine, which Rory's nerves were entirely grateful for and she was going to attempt not ordering the most expensive thing on the menu, but was surprised to see everything cost the same; Prix Fixe.
"What are you thinking about getting?" Logan asked, his eyes on her and his menu closed.
"The Lobster," Rory answered, having decided that if everything cost the same she was most definitely going to get something she didn't normally get to eat. "What about you?"
"The filet," he replied, sipping his wine, his eyes never leaving Rory.
The waiter arrived and they ordered, soon after getting lost in conversations about Rory's work at the paper and Logan's summer working in London. Mostly, they talked of nothing of importance; occasionally throwing out facts that a 'significant other' would know of the other for when they went public and official.
Somewhere in the middle of their chat Logan's hand reached across the table to meet hers, his fingers lazily drawing patterns into her skin as he went on with his story. Though she was paying attention, part of her mind was completely focused on the fact that their hands were joined and that him touching her sent chills up her spine, until she remember it was all for show.
Dinner arrived and they managed to get through the whole dinner without anyone interrupting, though she could feel everyone else's eyes on her throughout their evening. How strange they must look, society's bad boy and society's angel, holding hands, Rory laughed, imagining this was how zoo animals felt as Logan paid the check.
"Care to enlighten me?" Logan inquired after her giggle.
"No, it's nothing," she smiled in an attempt to keep from blushing.
"Maybe later?" he asked.
"Maybe," she smiled, knowing she would never tell him.
"You ready?" he asked, tossing his napkin to the table in a signal of completion and she nodded, collecting her clutch.
He stood, coming behind Rory to pull her chair out as she rose. It only took seconds for Rory to be aware of Logan's body: He was behind her, his hand on her hip, so close her body buzzed with the sensation of his proximity.
"For the audience," he whispered, dropping his lips to her neck and kissing it very gently. Rory's eyes closed, her knees became a consistency similar to pudding and she leaned back into him attempting to regain her composure as well as to avoid falling to the ground.
It didn't matter that Rory knew better, it didn't matter that this whole 'relationship' was as fake as fake could get, something about Logan Huntzberger made her stomach do somersaults and that was a very, very bad thing.
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