My Other Self Lives the Good Life

After a few minutes of staring at herself in the mirror, Rory decided that she in fact looked the same as she did two hours ago, before she left her dorm room and spilled one of the most embarrassing stories ever to a group of strangers. She was convinced someone had inhabited her body, took control of her vocal chords and forced the words through her lips. Like she was the creepy puppet to the shady ventriloquist, but cuter. Her baby steps were not so much like baby steps tonight, in fact, if she were to look down on her actions from an aerial view, she would be convinced she had been convinced by a clone. Or perhaps, it was a case of body snatchers where she was Becky Driscoll and maybe if she woke up, she'd realize her doppelganger was in fact hanging out with Logan, Finn and Colin and she (the non-clone version of herself) was safely at home at the wake with Paris.

Knowing that hiding in her for the rest of her life would be a disastrous plan, mainly because there was no coffee in the bathroom, but she knew someone would come looking for her. Eventually Paris would come looking for her, revenge would wait on no hideaway. Also, there was a socially acceptable amount of time to be away after an embarrassing moment…if she stayed away too much longer she'd need to start tunneling her way out. Resolved to salvage the remnants of her pride, Rory nodded to her doppelganger, or simply her reflection, she had yet to make a definitive decision on the clone versus reality idea.

"Hey, Ace," Logan greeted, a broad smile on his face. "Thought we'd have to send a search party for you."

"No need to release the hound dogs. Next time I'll leave breadcrumbs," Rory responded as she tucked a spare piece of hair behind her ear.

"Just wanted to make sure you were okay," Logan said, a gentle smile on his face.

"Know this," Colin said, "Your humiliating story will only be run in the New York Times for three days, at which point it will have been read by every single human on the planet."

Finn attempted to nod without smiling, but couldn't quite manage it.

"At least you have a plan," Rory deadpanned. "I need to get back to the wake."

"Seriously, love?" Finn asked. "Would you care develop a more believable excuse to abandon us on this fine evening?"

"I'm not abandoning you, Finn," Rory informed the group. "I simply need to get back to the wake. Paris will probably notice me missing, and nothing good will result from that."

"We can't have you in trouble on our account," Logan told Rory. "Come on, Ace. I'll walk you back."

"Next time, you'll drink," Finn announced. He leaned over and gave Rory a kiss on the cheek.

"Rory," Colin began stoically, "You are welcome anytime. Anyone able to resist Finn and regale our group with stories that shock us must come back often. Logan," Colin placed his hand on his friend's shoulder and looked directly into his eyes, "Please bring this girl with you in the future. In fact, invite Rory and stay home."

"Ah, comedian," Logan laughed. "Rory, let's leave this den of fools to their own devices." He gestured toward the exit with his arm.

Rory smiled at the group and almost regretted her decision to leave, but she knew it was time to head back to the inevitable confrontation with Paris. As she started towards the door, she felt Logan's arm descend onto her shoulders. It wasn't an altogether unpleasant feeling, which shocked her because she was kinda on a guy hiatus. Plus, she knew Logan wasn't the steady boyfriend type guy she was used to dealing with in the past. When he'd first seen him at the coffee cart, he'd had a girl draped over him, and she could tell from their general indifference for each other that they were accustomed to a casual relationship. The only puzzling things about Logan's actions were his apparent comfort with being around her multiple times in one day, and he didn't seem to mind casual touches.

"How bad do you think it will be with Paris?" Logan asked as they began their walk back to Brandford Hall.

"Can you read a map?"

"Is it attached to a GPS?"

"Doubtful."

"Then, no." Logan looked at her curiously, "Why?"

"You'd need one to find the various pieces of my body."

"Ah."

"Paris is complicated. We've known each other for years, and the status of our friendship changes faster than Pamela Anderson's bra size. There is a possibility that Paris didn't notice my absence, that my grandma's presence allowed me to escape unnoticed. There is a greater possibility that she noticed that I left, and thus abandoned her in her time of need."

"The guy was practically dead when they started dating," Logan argued.

"She was at her height of passion for him. She'll always love him."

"Wow, and the truly amazing part is that you managed to say both of those sentences with a straight face."

"I have many talents."

Logan's eyes danced with laughter as his mind traveled in into places he knew both Rory and Nancy Regan would disapprove of. He stopped his mental train of thought before it went into the realm he didn't want to wade through; the area of his mind Finn had pushed their conversation earlier. Sure, he knew his arm was still around Rory, and it felt comfortable there. He knew above everything else that he was not a boyfriend guy, and he knew that Rory was a girlfriend girl.

"Looks like people are still here," Logan said, slightly amazed.

Rory looked around the hallway leading to the room she shared with Paris. Sure enough, people still milled around, and it appeared as though her earlier efforts had been futile. People were still referring to Professor Flemming as "the old dead dude".

"Maybe you'll be safe," Logan offered.

"It looks that way," Rory said with a nod.

The pair hovered awkwardly in front of the open door. Rory didn't know exactly what to do in this situation. She knew he wasn't a boyfriend kind of guy, which was good because she wasn't ready for another boyfriend, especially one who didn't want to be one. After Jess leaving and Dean with his Lindsey issues, she just wanted a stable, commitment ready guy.

"Thanks," Rory began, "for saving me from Paris and her crazy."

Logan smiled. "Anytime, Ace."

Several days passed in a blur of classes, newspaper craziness, where the highlight was an argument between Paris and Doyle over something that no one could determine, but the argument itself had been so noteworthy that several of the fringier journalists blogged about later in the day. Rory hadn't seen Logan since the night of Paris' wake, but found her thoughts wandering to him far more than she cared to admit. It hadn't escaped her notice that he was in fact a Huntzberger…a member of a journalistic dynasty. Yet somehow, she didn't seem to care all that much. What she really spent her time thinking about was how easy it was for her to fit in with Logan and his group. They really did come from a different world, and that made things more awkward in her head. She knew somehow that her mom wouldn't approve, but knew her grandparents would and then she thought about the added tension that would add to the already hostile relations between the two groups. As if the mere thought of her mother heralded her, she felt her phone vibrate.

"Oh hello my favorite daughter."

"What do you need, oh mother of mine?"

"I need you to come home."

"Now? Because it's going to be all curlers and face masks."

"Not now, Tuesday, and leave the curlers at Yale, we don't need the neighbor's talking."

"Oh sure. And what is happening on Tuesday that is a no curler event?"

"Well, it's the town selectman elections, and we're desperate. Lane's band is playing, and I'll give you a button."

"Sure, I'm always in for a good button."

"So, how's school?"

"Schools good."

"And how's your journey into the adventures of spontaneous acts going?"

"Interesting. I left with this group of people I met during the wake that Paris threw. I left her alone with grandma, and neither one said anything to me. We went to the Pub and hung out for a while before I realized I should get back to the wake and Paris before she sent out a search party, or bounty hunters."

"Ok, well it's good to know that Paris is still Paris. Luke tried to make me breakfast at home."

"Really? Was he naked?"

"Dirty!"

"Well, why else would he make you breakfast at home and not at Luke's?"

"He told me he was Luke and he was cooking."

"Interesting way to look at it."

"I'll see you Tuesday?"

"Tuesday."

Tuesday came and Rory found herself driving the familiar route to Stars Hallow. She was happy to be going home to her safe haven. It was a place she felt safe and secure. It was also a place where she felt no need to be adventurous. She parked her car in front of her childhood home and inhaled the fresh, fall air. Since she arrived early, she allowed herself a leisurely stroll to the town square where the selectman votes were being collected. The whole town had been abuzz about his year's election; no one ever ran against Taylor, until Jackson.

"You came!" Lorelai enthusiastically greeted her only daughter.

"I said I would. Where's my button?" Rory asked, a mock threat in her voice.

"After you vote for Jackson."

"Hey! No bribing the voters."

Lorelai made a face, but left her daughter by the voting booths. She had to go check on Sookie and Jackson. They'd taken over Luke's and converted it into a base of operation from where they'd launched Jackson's historic campaign.

After Rory placed her vote for Jackson, of course, she found the basket full of buttons. With a smile that was perhaps too bright for a simple button, she affixed it to her sweater. Lane's band was playing, and since she didn't have an early class in the morning, she'd made plans to celebrate with everyone after all of the festivities.

"Am I completely insane?" Lane asked as she walked towards the voting booths.

Rory walked down and met her best friend halfway. "Insane?"

"For liking Zach, I mean, he's in the band."

"It's not really up to us to chose who we like, Drew Barrymore and Tom Green proved this to us."

"I don't want to ruin the band, and they broke up," Lane said, her face the picture of seriousness.

"Lane, you won't break up the band, we've discussed this. And, it's not like you can just decide to not like him."

"Fine, let's leave the depressing horizon of my love life, and talk about you."

"Me?"

"We haven't talked a lot since you've been back a Yale. So, what's going on?"

"Paris held a wake for Asher Flemming, who died in class not in bed like many people thought he would."

"That's sufficiently unbalanced."

"And my grandma showed up."

"At the wake?"

"Yeah, and there was this guy there, who I'd met earlier and they knew each other, which was creepy and weird. Then these guys with a keg showed up and Logan – the guy – he had his friends take the keg away, then he said I should leave with him. So, I left with him. In doing so, I left my grandma alone with Paris at the wake."

"Wow, we really need to learn to start with you. My story was old, and you had front page news."

"How is my grandma or Paris front page news?"

"Not them, the boy."

"Oh, Logan's not front page news. He's just a friend, more like an acquaintance really."

"An acquaintance," Lane repeated in obvious disbelief.

"Exactly, one who knows my grandma. He's part of the Hartford society. Lane, he's Logan Huntzberger, his dad owns like every newspaper in the country."

"Well that's pretty much perfect for you."

"Except that I yelled at him the first time I met him, then I left with him, and we went to a bar and I wouldn't drink with his friends and Lane, I can't date him."

"Why?"

"He's not a boyfriend guy. The first time I saw him, he had some brainless blonde draped around him. She was gone the second time I saw him, but they were chasing some redhead."

"Come on, Rory. You're into him. And you just told me you can't control who you like. Look, I need to get back there, sound check," Lane said, "But, we need to finish this talk."

"Deal. Hey, let me know if you need anyone to stage-dive. Give me the signal."

"What signal?"

"Make a signal."

"Love you."

After catching up with Lane, Rory walked to where everyone had gathered to hear the results; she wanted a good spot to see the band play .

"Hey."

Rory jumped as she heard is soft, almost hesitant greeting. She fought the panic she felt rising in her chest. She had enough craziness in her life to deal with, and she'd already said everything she needed to say.

"So, you won't even look at me now?" Dean asked, angry.

Angry that he had the nerve to be angry at her, Rory turned around to face him. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and glared up at him. "What?"

Dean swallowed what he had first planned to say. He recognized her stance and expression.

"Look, I can tell your angry, but we didn't get to finish our conversation. Once again we were interrupted."

Confused and a bit amazed, Rory stared at him hard for a few seconds before she responded. "What more is there to discuss, Dean?"

Neither noticed the pair of brown eyes watching them from the shadows.

Another chapter! More Rogan to come, but the plot and the story seem to have a mind of their own. Share your thoughts with me!