Hello!
Just a really quick AN since I'm SO behind on everything, but I wanted to get this chapter up for the thirteenth, since it's the 13th.
Anyway, it's another really emotional/drama one – and it's the longest chapter I've ever written! But it'll be nice and lovely-dovey in the next one. Promise!
Oh, I suppose I should mention that these flashback scenes take place in a bar and there is some references to drinking and what not, but nothing that – in my mind - should up the rating. Just a little heads up (and its pretty cliché, no way is my real-life college experience like that ;)!)
Thank you all so much for reading and reviewing. I LOVE YOU GUYS! I can't say it enough!! YOU ROCK! Can't wait to hear what you think about this!
Love,
Gilmoregirl 19
PS: I do not own anything ASP created.
Rory and Logan were standing on Platform 5 at London's St. Pancras International train station. Their train to Paris was about to board and neither could wait to be whisked away from London, and escape the stress that Mitchum would undoubtedly bring.
Logan was holding two roller bags. It had been quite a task getting Rory to pack everything she thought she needed in one bag; however, he reassured her that anything they needed in Paris could be bought. Rory was responsible for the coffees. Two for her and one for Logan and a bag of breakfast treats from the station bakery.
The sleek yellow/white high-speed train pulled up before them and opened its doors.
"Ready pour Paris, mon amour?" Logan asked, smiling down at Rory.
"Oui," she laughed back, and carefully kissed his cheek, making sure not to tip over one of the roller bags, or, more importantly, spill the coffees or drop the pastries.
"Rory," Lane said, "Stop looking at our boys," she swallowed the last sip of her beer, "Seriously. You should have some fun!"
"Totally," Stephanie added and took a big swig of her pinkish cocktail. "Fridays are for fun!!!"
Rory rolled her eyes as Stephanie was starting to slur her words. She looked away from the bar, where she had been watching Logan and his Crew of Blondes, each wearing obscenely low-cut tops and hiked up skirts, in pathetic attempts to be the Chosen One, at least for tonight.
Logan had his following in high-school, but those girls hadn't bothered her so much. College girls, however, were much more provocative and conniving. They chased after Logan as if he was a prize, as if it was an honor to be another notch on his bedpost and, more than anything, she hated that the Huntzberger boy was all too willing to play the game.
It disgusted Rory, partly because she didn't understand why these girls would want to degrade themselves in such a way. On the other hand, she wished she could be that free-and-easy as maybe that was what Logan wanted. He obviously didn't want her since their relationship had gone back to super platonic soon after the aftermath of the arranged marriage announcement. For a while, Rory thought she was falling for Logan and she honestly thought he felt the same, as there were a lot of sleepovers, deep conversations, and innuendos. But, that tapered off as soon as Rory got wrapped up in the world of college preparation, and remembered the Rules, that stated they should be with other people until the engagement.
The gang had ended up at Yale, sharing a house together off-campus, a generous present from Lane's parents. Colin and Stephanie were still dancing around each other, Finn and Lane were still Finn-and-Lane and Rory and Logan were still Best Friends, with Rory pushing her feelings for Logan to the farthest corner of her mind and Logan with his line of never-ending blondes.
She took a sip of her bright blue cocktail and shot her friend an unconvincing smile, "I'm having fun, Lane."
It was Friday night and it was a tradition that they gathered in their favorite Yale hotspot, The Pub, for Friday night cocktails, conversation and as Stephanie so truthfully put it, fun.
"Really," Lane shot Rory a skeptical look. 'I think fun is about three or four rounds away," she pointedly set down her beer bottle, pushed back her chair and walked to the bar.
Rory focused her gaze on Stephanie, who was busy fishing the maraschino cocktail cherry from the bottom of her pink drink. Once she succeeded, she stuck in her mouth, daintily holding the stem of the cherry and suggestively sucking the juices from the cherry, as she glanced around the room.
Rory noticed that Stephanie's little act attracted a lot of approving looks from the males at Yale, though Colin, who was currently trying to impress one of Logan's blondes, frowned.
'Oh,' Stephanie exclaimed, tossing the cherry to the side, 'That's Mattie, the hot, hot, hottie from my Management Skills class."
She got up, "I'm going to see if he wants to get together and strategize," she winked at Rory, who winked back, 'Go get 'm, tiger.'
During their first months at Yale, Rory and Lane felt compelled to keep a constant eye on Stephanie, telling her to be safe, and not to get carried away with guys, but Stephanie told them both to layoff. She wasn't actually pursuing the other guys; she was just toying with them to make Colin jealous. Rory knew that at the end of the night both Colin and Stephanie would safely return home, with only a fistful of phone numbers and perhaps a few drunken kisses as 'rewards' in their on-going game.
Rory saw Colin order another scotch for himself, and a bright orange cocktail for the member of the Crew of Blondes he was chatting up. She took another swig of her cocktail. Nights at The Pub reminded her of the National Geographic specials she occasionally watched.
'The male species punches his male friend on the shoulder, showing the female that he is the stronger, more reliable, more desirable male. The female is receptive to this approach, as one can tell by the not-so subtle hair twirling and coy smile in the male's direction."
"I see the Blue Curacao is working it's magic," Lane laughed, placing a tray of fresh libations in front of Rory, breaking the nature-inspired voice track that was playing in Rory's head.
"Hm?" Rory mumbled, slowly coming back into the ether. "Oh," she said upon realization, "Tasty, tasty," she nodded, and shook her empty cocktail glass in her hand for emphasis.
"Right," Lane was untouched, "Let me guess, National Geographic?"
Rory rolled her eyes, she hated her best friend knew her so well. "Whatever, Lane – did you get me that Blue drink, I like?"
"Oh," Rory exclaimed, "I LOVE trains! Look at the tiny table," she continued happily, as she placed three lattes and the breakfast bag on the tiny table that stood between Rory and Logan's seats.
Logan nodded approvingly at the tiny table, and put the bags in the overhead luggage storage and took his seat.
"I've always wanted to travel by train," she said as soon as he was seated, and took a sip of her coffee.
"Really," Logan asked, "I didn't know that."
Rory shrugged, digging through the breakfast bag, and pulling out a chocolate muffin. "Want to split this?"
"Sure," Logan nodded, taking the muffin from her and breaking it in two. "So, why trains?"
"It's so romantic," she shot him a loving smile.
Logan looked around the passenger car. At this hour, only half the seats were occupied and they were taken up by British businessmen, heading to the City of Lights for a day of meetings. He could only imagine what is was like during high-traffic hours, what with screaming children, lost elderly people and annoying people gabbing on their cell phones. To Logan, it was the least romantic form of travel, but it was the most practical, seeing as how they needed to get out of London fast.
"I suppose," he shrugged as a reply and sipped some of his coffee.
"Well," Rory said, "I guess the old fashion trains were much more romantic, you know, with dining cars and sleeper cars….That would be an awesome vacation."
He smiled at her, "I didn't know – I would have taken you on a train trip some time, Ace."
"Please," she laughed, 'Why take a train when you have a fleet of private jets at your convenience?" She tossed her empty Styrofoam cup in the trash, and grabbed the remaining coffee.
"I guess," Logan said, letting the subject rest for now, and preparing for the 3 hour train ride to Paris.
"God, Rory," Lane sighed frustrated, "Stop looking at Logan, or go talk to him. Please."
Rory looked away, slowly, refocusing on Lane. Even through her slightly befuddled eyes, she knew Lanes narrowed eyes and tight lips meant she was mad.
"Come on, Lane," Rory sighed, taking a sip from her friends' beer, immediately regretting it as the sour taste of the brew washed over her tongue.
"No," Lane said curtly, taking the bottle back. "Come on, you've wasted your first year of college…"
"I did not," she said defiantly. "I…", she paused, wondering momentarily if Lane was right. Had she wasted her first year of college? She hadn't had the typical college experience thus far, but she hadn't had a typical childhood either. She had major study sessions, like other college students, she ate mac-and-cheese like other college students, she partied, similar to other college students. She went out, but rarely hooked up or got wasted. But, then again, Rory never got drunk on purpose and hooking up, at least to her mind, was out of the question.
"I aced all my classes. Even econ, with the wacked-out professor…" Rory continued, uncertainty lacing her tone, as she knew that was not what her best girlfriend was talking about.
"College is not all about the school," Lane said, shooting her friend a pointed look, "it's about Nathans and Chucks and Dans. Oh, it's so about Dans."
"Yeah, well," Rory crossed her arms over her chest. "Not for me."
"Shit, Rory," Lane slammed her beer bottle on the table, "Just because – …"
"Don't say it," Rory warned, "Don't you dare say it."
Lane rolled her eyes as she held up her left hand and pointed at her ring finger, "doesn't mean you aren't entitled to a little fun, a little Dan, so to speak."
"It's not fair," Rory said, repeating her standard speech, "not to 'Dan', and not to me. What if 'Dan' turns out to be the love of my life, and then what?"
"Please," Lane said, waving her hand at Rory, "Your man Dan will be thrilled just to be with you, and he's not the love of your life."
Rory opened her mouth to answer, but she closed it again, allowing for Lane to continue, "Rory, you've been dancing around each other almost as long as Colin and Stephanie. It's clear Logan's in love with you. We all know you love him. You live together, you talk to him all the time, you love the same movies, and he makes you coffee… the right way. You guys are perfect for each other; he is the love of your life! Having a Dan for a while won't make a difference."
Rory took in her friend's words. She knew Lane meant well, and she made sense, but still. Rory couldn't.
"I can't, Lane. I just can't."
Lane looked at Rory's sad face, hating to see her friend in pain. "I know, Rory," she squeezed Rory's hand, "I just don't want you to regret anything, you know."
"I know," Rory nodded. "When did this all get so complicated?"
"I don't know," Lane sighed and held up her beer bottle. "To less complicated times, girl"
"Here-here," Rory laughed, as she tipped her blue cocktail glass to Lane's bottle and proceed to down the remainder of her drink.
The couple started off chit-chatting, but after an hour or so the conversation lulled, with Rory looking out of the window, and Logan reading a complimentary copy of the Financial Times.
"You know," Logan said after a while, "I still can't believe I didn't know about the train thing…"
She shot him a confused smile, "A girl can't have a little mystery?"
He chuckled, "Come on, Ace, you know what I mean. I've known you my whole life, wanted to kiss you since I was fifteen, and we've been together since we were, what, nineteen?"
"Eighteen," Rory correctly gently, "End of our first year of Yale…."
"Ah, yes," Logan nodded, as it was all coming back to him, "That ass-clown Dan…"
"Hey," Rory laughed, as she remembered the heated night, "That ass-clown made you get your act together!"
"This is so," Logan admitted, shaking his head at the memory. "So, what I'm trying to say is that I should have known about the train-thing."
Rory felt the sudsy, hops-smelling liquid dampen her shoulder, staining her favorite cream-colored butterfly-sleeve top.
"What the…" she shouted and looked around, meeting a foreign pair of sparkling green eyes.
"I'm so sorry," the unfamiliar male voice slurred slightly.
"Oh," she waved his apology away, "it's just beer and – "
Not only did this unfamiliar voice have sparkling green eyes, he came complete with faded-in-the-right-places blue jeans, leather flip-flops protecting his feet from the sticky bar floor, a dark blue Hollister T, stretched out over his hard-earned six-pack and he used a pair of silver-colored aviator sunglasses to push back his needs-a-shampoo, longish, dirty blond hair. Rory's mind immediately categorized him as Dude.
Dude touched the damp spot on her shoulder, "I'm really sorry. I'll get it dry-cleaned. My friend Andy is such a jerk, he pushed me." Rory doubted that strongly, since the bar was only half-full. Still, she smiled and brushed a strand of stray hair away from her face.
"Well," she smiled at his sparkling eyes, "Andy should pick up the dry-cleaning, then, shouldn't he?"
Dude laughed, "I'll tell him you said that…" He paused, ever so smoothly.
"Rory," she supplied.
"Nice to meet you, Rory," Dude stuck out his hand, "I'm Daniel. Call me Dan"
At this, Rory and Lane burst out laughing. Maybe it was the delicious cheesiness of the meet or maybe it was one too many Blue Cocktails.
"What?" Call-me-Dan asked, wondering if it was worth hitting on this seemingly crazy chick.
"It's just that," Rory gulped for air, wondering if it was worth explaining it to this guy. She decided it wasn't, "My friend and I like that name."
Call-me-Dan glanced past Rory, looking at Lane. "Hey," he offered. She nodded back, "Dude."
"I'm going to find Finn," Lane told Rory and shot her pointed look. If she wanted a meaningless, worthless hook-up. Call-me-Dan was, well, the Man.
Rory sighed heavily, knowing that her revelation would force them to have the Talk they had been avoiding. Frankly, she did not want to have the Talk; she was enjoying the comfortable, casual atmosphere of the Bubble they had created, on the other hand, Rory knew they couldn't avoid it forever.
"Well, if it makes you feel better, I didn't find trains remotely interesting until quite recently."
"Really," Logan was intrigued.
She nodded, "Uh, I guess, probably around your third year at HPG I really got into watching documentaries on the History Channel," she looked away embarrassed, "and they did, like, a month-long special on old-fashioned trains – locomotives - travel and destinations."
"Cool," Logan nodded approvingly, as Rory continued her voice barely above a whisper.
"I went a little overboard, I guess, since I missed a few DAR meetings and Grandma went crazy. Lane and Finn, uh, made me…."
"What?" Logan asked concerned, leaning in to hear the rest of her story.
"Stay with them for a week, you know, they worry and overreact." Even though, she spoke softly, it was still incredibly fast.
Rory's gaze was now fixated on the window, and the passing landscape as Logan remained silent for a few moments, taking in what his wife just revealed to him. He honestly didn't know. He knew about the time Rory was referring to. He was away from Hartford for about six weeks, first conducting a take-over in San Francisco, business meetings in the UK and finally doing an International Industry Trade Show in New York City. He had invited Rory to the Trade Show, but she politely declined. He wondered if it was because she found something in the History Channel, she couldn't find in him.
"I didn't know," he spoke softly, apologetically.
She looked at him, and squeezed his hand gently, "It's also the reason why I like antique vases. Got hooked on the Antiques Road Show," she laughed, though he obviously didn't think it was funny. Logan's eyes widened as he thought about the vases he'd seen that the house the last time he was there.
Rory was relieved now that she had revealed some of her past to Logan, but she did not feel as this should change the Bubble, or destroy the progress they were making as a couple. She even made a joke about the vases – she was fine!
"Look," she shook her head, "It's in the past. I'm fine, you are fine. We are going to Paris."
Logan shot her a disbelieving look. "Ace…."
"Logan," she stressed, but he interjected.
"You were addicted!" He exasperated, trying to keep his voice low.
"Hardly," Rory waved his preposterous suggestion away, "I just watched a lot of TV."
"To the point where you missed important meetings…" He scratched his head, "Finn and Lane staged an intervention!"
"So now all of the sudden DAR meetings are important?" she retorted sarcastically.
"Ace," he sighed, bringing his voice down to a whisper, as trains weren't really the ideal place to discuss such things, "You are missing the point."
She looked at him, her eyes almost brimming with tears as she hated to think about this time in their lives. That trip, which Rory's mind mostly referred to as The Big Six, marked a turning point in their relationship. Rory knew she had lost the energy to compete for Logan's attention, and unfortunately Logan couldn't – or did not want – to react to it.
"It wasn't an intervention," she said slowly, keeping her eyes fixed on her blue jeans.
"Okay."
"I was lonely. I watched TV. People have done worse," she said.
"Ace, I'm so sorry… I …" Logan rushed to say. He really was sorry.
"For what – ", she looked up at him, a tiny bit of fire in her voice. "You were doing your job."
"But I didn't know," he tried to explain.
"You didn't ask," Rory countered strongly.
"If something was bothering you, you could have called – talked to me," he said sadly, "We used to tell each other everything."
"That was before all out communication went through your secretary," Rory responded flatly. She was trying not to be accusatory, but it was hard.
"But…" he tried, but she cut him off.
"No, I know how it was, Logan. That was one thing the DAR-ladies taught me. Mitchum watched you like a hawk…"
She took a sip of her coffee before continuing, "There was no way, lowly me, would get to speak to my husband – the husband he chose for me by the way – directly."
Logan exhaled, slowly realizing what it must have been like for Rory. "I'm sorry, Ace. I never meant for that to happen, I just… I was working, a lot."
"Yes," she said curtly.
"What?"
"You always never meant for things to happen, but they happened anyway," she blinked at him. It was the truth, but Rory still felt bad for saying it. She knew it wasn't all his fault.
"I was working constantly, Ace," he explained, "Months on end, 7 days a week, on three or four hours a sleep a night! Flying all over the country, hell, the world! Preparing meetings, smooth-talking the investors…."
"Stop," Rory held up her hand. "I know it was hard."
"But," he asked, wondering what she'd say next.
"Nothing," Rory nodded, "It's happened, okay. Let's just move on."
Rory had been chatting with Call-me-Dan for about fifteen minutes and she was already bored out of her skull. Rory wasn't stuck up, but it was obvious that Dude had no clue who Rory was and what her life was like. More to the point, Call-me-Dan had no brains, no ambition, no manners and no clue. He did however, have perfectly kissable lips and he looked good, slightly reminiscent of David Beckham, only with a greasy mop of hair.
Nevertheless, she pretended to listen, and twirl her hair around her finger just like the Crew of Blondes taught her, as she knew Logan could see this exchange taking place. Maybe Stephanie knew what she was doing after all?
Logan did not want to move on. He, just now, was grasping her world, her thoughts. They never talked about this and he still knew Rory well enough that it would be a long time before they had another deep conversation.
"But, Ace, you were miserable!" He whispered to her in the half full train car, and reached for her hand.
"Yes," she strained, as her voice started to crack. "What do you want me to say? I was miserable, miserable without you. Is that what you want to hear? That I depend on you? That I wanted you home on our anniversaries, birthdays and Christmas. That I wanted you to be my plus-one sometimes, get take-out and watch bad movies with you?"
She swallowed before continuing her hushed rant, "That I didn't know what to do without you, so I got a TV-addiction, bought a bunch of antique vases and became a train junkie? That I planned a train inspired vacation for us? Is that what you want to hear – how pathetic I was?"
"You what?" he asked incredulously
Rory waited a moment, trying to regain her composure, before answering, "I planned a vacation for us. I thought it would be fun after the Big Six to go to Europe and travel around by train."
She looked at his shocked face. He never knew she had planed something that elaborate and romantic for them. He immediately knew that he crushed her, since the Big Six wasn't the end to his travels, it was the beginning.
"Don't worry about it, okay," she tried to comfort him – or was it more for herself, as the memory still stung – "You didn't know. Other people cheat," she shot him a wry smile, "I watch TV."
Logan's brain was running on overtime. There was so much he wanted to say, but instead he lamely replied, "I never knew it upset you that much!"
His answer stunned her, so she remained silent.
He tried again, reaching for her hand and looking her in the eye, "I thought you were happy."
"What?" Rory knew he was being truthful, she knew his tone, but she couldn't understand that he thought her being miserable resembled happiness.
"Not happy," he admitted, "but coping – dealing, in a healthy kind of way. You know, being at the DAR, hanging out with our friends. Shopping, reading, and whatever else you did with Lane and Stephanie and your mom." He swallowed, "I never wanted you to miss me."
This was a completely new revelation, one that made Rory's heart skip a beat. "But I loved you," she said softly, almost reminiscently, "I was in love with you. How could I not miss you?"
It pained him that she used past tense, and the way she stated it, Logan knew it was stupid for him to think she wouldn't miss him.
"I don't know," he said.
"Wait – you didn't miss me?" Suddenly it was very important that this question was answered.
"I did, more than you can imagine. That's why I worked so much, to… "
"Oh God, you didn't even want to think about me!" She pulled away from him.
"No, Ace, listen to me," she could hear the strain in his voice. It was important he conveyed this correctly, "I was homesick all the time, I begged Mitchum to go home, sometimes just for a night or an afternoon. He didn't let me, so I worked."
He waited for her to give him a sign to continue, " And, then. I don't know. I was gone so much, home didn't feel like home anymore and I was constantly distracted, and you seemed distant. Now, I realize I was oblivious. I just thought – I don't know. I guess… you'd grown into your role, like I did in mine. HPG made me out to be the king of the paper industry. I just thought you enjoyed being the queen of society."
Rory looked at her husband in shock. Working with his father had made his brain a twisty, delusional place. However, she knew where it was coming from and she understood how it made sense to him.
"I never wanted to be the queen," she said slowly, "I never wanted that life. To be Emily Gilmore."
She paused, as she realized that maybe that was what he wanted. No one ever asked them what they wanted; they just did what they were told. "I guess I'd never thought you did, either." Her eyes grew wide as she asked the question she did not really want the answer to,"Did you?"
"I hated it, at first," he nodded, "But I love it."
Her face fell, but he wasn't finished, "I'd give it up for you, Ace"
"Don't make promises you'll have to break, Logan," she said softly and looked away from him.
"I mean it, Ace." He sighed, "Yes, I loved the work, but only because I thought – foolishly – that you were okay. I could never go back now, knowing that you are miserable in Hartford."
Lane had made her way into the Circle of Blondes, which surrounded Logan, Colin and Finn. It was obvious that Logan was looking at Rory and that Dude, burning with irritability.
"Talk, talk to her" Lane sang, as she changed to words to Fall Out Boys' 'Dance, Dance' that was blaring through the Pub.
Logan shot her a pointed look, but instead of telling her off, he left the group, got another drink for himself and one for Rory and made his way over to her table.
He shot the Dude a warning look and placed a cream-colored beverage in front of her, "I got you a drink, Ace."
Rory shot him a warning look, "Thank-you, Logan," she said tightly, shooting Call-me-Dan an apologetic look, "but Du…Dan here has that taken care of."
"You don't like beer," he said bluntly, quickly looking at Rory's bottle and then at Call-me-Dan. It was true, she really didn't enjoy the stuff, but it was he'd come back with.
Dan raised his eyebrows at Rory, "Look….Rosie, I just. Whatever." He threw a couple of bills on the table, and got up, "I'll see you around."
"Rosie," Logan smirked, sliding into the booth and taking Call-me-Dan's spot. "Classic."
"What the hell are you doing, Logan?" Rory fumed.
"Saving you from creepy, dumb-ass dudes…" he replied matter-of-factly.
"He wasn't creepy," Rory defended Call-me-Dan as she took a sip of her new, cream-colored cocktail.
"Well, whatever," he shrugged, "I didn't like him talking to you." The words left his mouth before he could regret it.
"Excuse me?" Rory spat, "What did you just say?"
"That he was creepy…" Logan said confidently.
"And…"
"A dumbass…" The confidence had left his tone.
"After that," she demanded.
"Oh, come on, Ace."
She remained silent, waiting for her answer.
"Fine, fine," Logan huffed, "If you want me to say it, I'll say it: I didn't like him talking to you!"
"Where to you get off saying that?" she exploded and stood up, pointing at him, yelling. "You, with your Crew of Blondes, they guy who has a little-black-book thicker than the yellow pages?"
"Rory, keep your voice down," Logan urged, as the chitchat in the bar died down, indicating that they were the center of a scene.
"No!" She screamed, "God, Logan." He saw the fire in her eyes and knew she was dead serious. "One guy, one guy – one dumb-ass guy buys me a beer and you can't take it!" she yelled, turned on her heel and stormed out of the Pub.
Logan sat on the plastic covered bench for a beat, 100 pairs of wasted eyes on him, waiting for his next move. A wave of nerves washed over his body, and he ran out after her.
Rory brushed a stray hair from her forehead as she continued to stare at the window, "We were so foolish in thinking that we'd be happy forever."
"Hey, look at me; it's just a bump in the road, okay?" He reached for her hand, and spoke gently, "We'll work on this, and fix it, okay?"
Rory looked at her husband and saw the hope in his eyes. The same hope she saw when she kissed him that night, many years ago. She was tired of this conversation, and it was easy to think that nothing would change. It was easy to stay in bed and watch TV, not show up to DAR meetings and delete Logan's voicemails. Perhaps she did not want the Hartford Life, but she certainly did not want the life she had been leading.
What's more, these past few days had been simple, like the summers they spent as kids in the Bahamas. Something told her that it might be possible to get that back for good, if she just tired.
So, she stood up, and let herself fall onto his lap, getting wrapped up in his embrace, sniffing in his scent
"So, I couldn't take it. So what?" He spoke softly, his tone laced with apologies. He was slightly out of breath as Rory made good time when she was angry. They were standing in the middle of Yale's courtyard, near the couples favorite coffee cart.
"So what? So what?" Rory mimicked his words, though she spoke hers with rage. "Can't I have my fun?" she spat. "It was for fun, Logan. It wasn't anything. It was a drink, not even. She made a fist and pounded it in the palm of her other hand as she spoke. "Half a friggin' drink!"
He remained quiet, knowing that her rant was not over.
"It wasn't like I was doing him on the table, and even if I was – like you'd care!" She threw her hands up, enraged. "You have your Crew of Blondes to keep you more than entertained," she shot him an accusatory look.
"Stop," Logan demanded, "Don't you ever say I don't care! I care more about you than anything else!"
Rory snorted in disbelief, "Whatever, Logan."
"And," he continued, curiously, "Why do you care about the Blondes so much? If I can't care about your Dude, you shouldn't care about my Blondes."
"Do you realize how dumb you sound, right now?" She couldn't help but laugh, and for a moment all the anger ebbed away.
The couple shared a moment of uncomfortable silence, neither knowing exactly what to say.
"So," Logan shoved his hands in his pockets, "The question still stands." He did not sound mad, or anything of the sort. It was an honest, genuine statement.
She crossed her arms over her chest, and felt a lump form in her throat.
"I don't…" she swallowed hard, "like them….talking to you." She waited a beat and then said it again, quicker, anger rising in her tone, "I don't like them doing anything to you, alright? But, as long as you keep them around, I'll keep Dude – Dan, whatever his name is."
Logan smiled; her reaction confirmed what they both knew all along. He spoke, keeping a bit of fire in his tone, "Rule Change,"
"What?" she shot him a wide-eyed look.
"I'm changing the rules," he said defiantly. "No more 'fun'. I don't want you to have a Dude, even if it was just a drink."
"Half a drink," she corrected him, sarcastically, though he ignored it.
"I don't want the Blondes; I've never wanted the Blondes," he looked directly at her, hoping his words conveyed his emotion.
She looked up, "You've kept them around long enough," she spoke, genuinely hurt.
Logan cast his gaze to the grassy ground, hating that he'd hurt her. He looked at her again, "Rory, I want you. I've always wanted you."
He stepped closer to her, embracing her, "I love you, Rory. I'm in love with you."
Her ears buzzed and her head spun, as his hot breath tickled her neck and the words computed in her brain. She pulled away from him, "You can't just say that – I can't – what about the marriage?"
"What about it?" he was confused.
"What if you just think you love me, what if it's great for six months, or a year and some Blonde sneaks by, or you realize you don't love me, after all and we break up? Huh? We'll walk down the aisle, as if nothing ever happened?"
He couldn't help but smile at her rant; he found it cute. Nevertheless, he knew there was great truth in her words as he had thought about it many times before. It could blow up in their faces, cost them their friendship and so much more, but Logan had been willing to risk that ever since he was 15 – the mere glimpse of her with another man, was enough to risk it.
"Don't think about that. Don't think about years or months from now. Just think about now…"
It was late April; their first year of college was almost over. The air was sticky and hot, just like it was the night of Emily's infamous Going Back to School Party. Logan's face was inches away from hers. "Do you love me?" he asked.
"Yes," she said without having to think. She's always loved Logan; she was in love with him.
When she was fifteen she's let herself out of his embrace, but tonight, she stood on her tippy toes, leaned the tiniest bit forward and let her lips collided with his.
"Hey," she said suddenly still resting comfortably in his arms, "What was that drink you got me?"
"Which drink," he laughed, since it was an impossible question to answer as he had gotten her many drinks over the years.
"The Dan Drink," she clarified with a smile, "It was crème-colored and sweet. It was so good!"
"Oh," he said upon realization, "P.S. I love you." He said it with such emotion, as if he was saying it to her.
A sudden tension filled the air between them. Those words hadn't been spoken in a very long time, even if in something as silly as a reference to a drink.
She smiled as her heart skipped a beat, "We should get those in Paris."
He nodded, as the tension kind of ebbed away.
"The P.S. I love you's," she clarified, though it was unnecessary.
Logan looked at her smiling face, knowing the milestone they had just reached. Maybe Rory was right, maybe trains really were romantic? He didn't know, but he leaned in, and their lips collided.
PS: PS I love you is a real drink! I thought it was so cute! Anyway, let me know what you think!!! XOXO