A/N: I do not own GG.

Awkward Encounters are Awkward

"Emily," Richard greeted as he opened the door to the pool house, "I wasn't expecting to see you today."

"While your childish antics at dinner last night were inexcusable, I am here to discuss the party. Rory's future is more important, and I am willing to overlook your actions for this week."

"How very generous of you," Richard replied dryly.

"Richard, I'm not feeling particularly fond of you at the moment, and I'm sure you're not feeling any differently. Let's just plan the party for Rory and we can continue on as things have been," Emily said, tiredly.

"Very well, Emily."

"Good. I've finalized the list your valet sent over. The caterers are going to arrive at three. We forgot to mention the party to the girls on Friday, which is probably for the best. We can invite Rory who will tell Lorelai. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to be without our dinners for a week."

"We should call Rory together," Richard told his wife.

"I agree."

"Shall we go into the study?"

"I'll meet you in the main house. The maid has some wonderful dish from her home country that I'll have her warm up for lunch."

"Thank you, Emily."

A few minutes later, the elder Gilmores were situated around the phone in Richard's office. They both shared secret, conspiratorial smiles with each other as they waited for their granddaughter to answer her phone.

"Hello?"

"Rory, it's your grandmother."

"Oh, hey, grandma."

"Your grandfather is here also."

"Hello, Rory. How are you?"

"Fine grandpa, and you?"

"We're wonderful, thank you for asking."

"Rory, we're sorry to bother you at school, but next Friday your grandfather and I agreed to host a little Yale alumni event at our house."

"It completely slipped our minds the other night."

"So we'll have to cancel our usual Friday night dinner."

"Oh, that's okay."

"However, we were wondering if maybe you'd like to come?" Emily asked.

"Me?"

"The alumni always like to meet the next generation of Elis, and plus, we'd love to be able to show you off to all of our friends, wouldn't we, Emily?"

"Yes, we would!"

"You might even make a few connections that could come in handy somewhere down the road."

"Please come! We'd hate to miss our weekly Rory fix. And I promise you, there won't be any chicken."

"Or steak on a stick."

"Well, sure. I'd love to come."

"Wonderful. Your grandmother and I are thrilled."

"Is it fancy? What should I wear?"

"Oh, just pick out a pretty little dress," Emily told her.

"And bring that face," Richard added.

"Well, the face comes with the package."

"Oh, and I know you usually come at seven, but could you make it at six instead?"

"Six is fine, grandma."

"We'll see you Friday!"

"See you Friday."

Richard and Emily smiled at each other once they'd disconnected their phone call to Rory. Their plans were coming along beautifully, and with Lorelai not in attendance, they would be free to parade Rory around society as she should have been many years ago. Yes, simply because Lorelai had decided to derail her life, didn't mean they would allow the same thing to happen to Rory.

"Make sure you call Mitchum this week, Richard. We need to ensure Logan is coming."

Rory stared at her phone for a few minutes after she hung up with her grandparents. The entire conversation felt contrived, but they'd been on the phone together which meant they'd been in the same room. At least, it sounded like they were in the same room, probably the speakerphone in her grandpa's office. Maybe a party with her grandparents would be nice. It was Monday, and she'd not heard from Logan yet…and she was beginning to lose hope. She stood from her chair in the cafeteria; it was time to turn in her article. It had taken her the better part of what was left of her weekend to finish it.

As she walked to the newsroom, she decided now was as good a time as any to let her mom know about the Friday night plans.

"So you're off the hook," Rory said without preamble.

"Off what hook?"

"Friday night. Grandma and Grandpa are having a party for their Yale alumni friends."

Wo-ow, Friday night without my mother! I don't know if I can deal! You might have to come over and force-feed me pickled herring and tell me what a disappointment I am. Hey, you want to go to the movies?"

"Can't. I'm going to the party."

"Okay, I can get you out of it."

"I want to go mom, they're planning it together."

"Transfer to Harvard, then you won't be invited."

"Are you even listening?"

"Rory, they're just manipulating you."

"Yes! Exactly! Them. Both of them, together. They called me together. They were on the speakerphone together, which means that they were in the same room, at the same time, together."

"You really want to go?"

"Yes."

"Would this have anything to do with a blond boy who has yet to respond to your letter?"

"No. I'm always busy on Friday nights. This one should also be busy. It's not like I have any amazing plans. Besides, they sounded happy. I want to do this."

"So, you haven't heard from Logan then?"

"No, and I don't think I'm going to. He told me he wasn't boyfriend material, and I believe him. He also knows I'm a girlfriend girl. I don't want to be with a guy who isn't going to be in the relationship with me."

"You going to this party on Friday is simply because you're the best granddaughter in the world and not because you're avoiding your life because if you are avoiding your life there are better ways to do so…join a twelve step program, find new ways to annoy Luke, dye your hair."

"I'm not avoiding my life. I'm going to a party my grandparents are hosting."

"Well, I'm sorry I won't get to see you on Friday."

"Well, how about I come by after? I can stay the night and then you can take me shopping on Saturday."

"Ah, I taught you well. See you then, kid."

"Bye."

"Doyle," Rory began as she walked into the newsroom. She didn't look up; Doyle was always in the newsroom, so she felt fairly safe to simply address him as she dug through her bag.

"I need to make sure you received my article. No one called me," Rory continued.

"Ah, Gilmore," Doyle addressed Rory, "good. This is a historic Monday – I'm glad you are here to witness it."

Rory looked up, confused. "Doyle –"

She cut herself off when she saw Logan standing next to Doyle. Every muscle in her body tensed as she deliberated the pros and cons of flight versus fight. Flight was winning; it might as well have said "pick me and get Jimmy Choo's for half off". Logan played his emotions close to his chest which made it hard for her to decide how she should act in this extremely awkward situation. Did she ignore him? Did he want her to ignore him? Was he going to ignore her? Did he want to talk about the letter? Had he even read the letter?

"I was telling Logan here how happy I was to have an article from him," Doyle plowed on, oblivious to the growing tension in the room. "He told me you gave him some notes that helped him out quite a bit. It is a truly historic day when two of my top-notch reporters turn-in their articles on time."

Logan rolled his eyes at Doyle's patronizing, passive-aggressive speech. Sure, he wasn't known for his timely delivery of articles, but he was certain Ace was. After using an unprofessional, Mitchum-esque power-play it grated on his nerves to have Doyle behave like a petulant infant.

"Doyle," Rory began.

Logan smirked; he recognized her tone and was pleased to watch her wrath descent upon someone who wasn't him for a change.

"My article was emailed in first thing this morning. I told you on Saturday that it would be. I never have my articles in late, and I went to Logan because you threatened the future of my position at this paper, which was completely unethical, but I did it. Be grateful I wrote you an article that no other reporter on this campus would have been able to get for you, and hope you haven't irritated me enough by your El Duce antics that I decide to quit writing articles for you – or, 'forget' to tell Logan about any future articles you want him to write!"

Logan's smile grew as he watched Doyle's pupils dilate as Rory's tirade progressed. Silently he formulated a plan. While he still had no clue what he was going to do about him and Rory or if there even was a him and Rory he did know that he wouldn't write anything for Doyle unless Rory brought the pitch to him. It bothered him to see Rory treated this way by Doyle, especially since it reminded him of his father's behavior. Rory deserved better.

"Look, Gilmore," Doyle started, a bit more hesitantly, but not much. "I'm glad you turned in the article. I'm the editor, and I need to do what it takes to get the paper out. If you were in my position, with the pressure – "

"Doyle," Logan interrupted. "It's a college daily paper. Rory's an amazing writer. Good editors don't badger their best writers…that's how editors end up with only bad writers. Then you're looking at turning the Daily News into the National Enquirer. None of us want to see that."

With a last long, withering glare at the pair, Doyle stormed out of the newsroom.

Glad that he was gone, but unsure of what to do now that he was alone with Rory, Logan shoved his hands into his pockets, and looked aimlessly about the room. He'd read the letter so many times it was memorized to the point where he was pretty sure he'd forget his own name in his old age, but still remember every single word of her letter. He knew she had every right to demand to be in an exclusive relationship or not at all, but she didn't understand his life. She didn't see the gilded bars that restrained him. A life full of responsibility and monotony would soon be upon him. Having a steady, committed girlfriend would simply bring that inevitable future upon him that much sooner. The moment his father saw any sort of stability in his son, he'd snatch him away from the life of juvenile freedom and thrust him into the pinstriped suits of adulthood. Unfortunately, he wasn't quite sure if even Rory was worth that tragic fate.

"I read your letter," Logan blurted.

When he saw her eyes widen in shock, he mentally cursed himself. He wasn't ready to discuss the confusion he was feeling, and he felt as though he'd just opened Pandora's Box.

Rory saw the momentary flicker of emotion as it skated across Logan's face. It warmed her heart that she was able to witness its brief existence. Either he didn't like what he'd read in the note, or he didn't want to talk about what he thought about the note…or both…or neither. It was never simple with Logan.

"You don't have to say anything, Logan."

"Rory, I don't know what to say."

"Wow."

"What?"

"You only call me Rory when you're serious, or seriously not okay. It's your tell."

"My tell?"

"Like in poker. Your tell."

"We're talking about poker?"

"Do you want to talk about the letter?"

"No."

"Then, yes. We're talking about poker."

"Do you know anything about poker, Ace?"

"Only what I've seen on TV."

"You watch poker on TV?"

"Guilty pleasure."

"How'd you get my number?"

"What?"

"You called my cell phone to have me meet you at the Pub. How'd you get my number?"

"I have my sources."

"Anonymous? You really are stalking me, Ace."

"Anything for a story, Logan."

I know it's been three days since I updated, but here is a chapter to tide you over and I hope to not have you wait as long in the future!