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Gilmoregirl19

Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls.

His arm was still firmly fixed around Rory's shoulder and she was still busy babbling on about something. Logan was much too distracted to listen as his stole a glance at his watch. Twenty-two minutes, that's how long he had been holding Rory. Twenty-two of his hand squeezing her shoulder close to him. Twenty-two minutes of all sorts of alarm bells ringing in his mind as he had never felt such an instant psychical and emotional attraction to a girl before.

He scolded himself as he never touched a girl for comfort or protection. He was breaking another one of his rules as he made it a point to only touch girls in a certain way as much for his pleasure as for theirs. He glanced down at her. She was sitting comfortably, unaware of the internal battle going on in his mind.

Instinctively, he knew this girl was different. That was what attracted him to her in the first place. However, now, it was more a question of whether he wanted to continue with his game. By the way she had scooted up close to him, looked to him for comfort and protection let him know she was clearly girlfriend material. He was not boyfriend material and unfortunately he had no intention of becoming boyfriend material.

He knew he could easily string her along, make her crazy for him and have his way with her in the cramped airplane bathroom. Friends of his did this on a regular basis, albeit in different circumstances yet without an ounce of remorse. And while these men might be in the clear from a strict consensual point of view, it wasn't morally on the up-and-up and Logan knew this. He wasn't that guy; he had integrity though it pained him to admit it. It was especially painful to realize he still had a six and a half hour flight with this stunning creature on his arm and he was cornered. He could look, but not touch as it became evident that she could never be his, since he was unwilling to change and he did not want her to change for him. He was fighting a losing battle.

"Excuse me," he interrupted her as he realized that her touch was making him crazy, "Just going to use the men's room." He shot from his chair and granted her a smile in an attempt to cover up his somewhat weird behavior.

"Get a grip, man" he muttered to himself as soon as locked the tiny bathroom door. He splashed some cold water on his face and told himself to be cool, be open and friendly but nothing too over the top. The last thing he wanted was Rory becoming attached…at least not more than she already was.

He smirked at his reflection in the mirror as his friends would probably tell him not to flatter himself, but he couldn't help it. He knew Birkin digged him. Rory, he scolded himself once again. Birkin was a nickname for a girlfriend and he didn't want a girlfriend!

"Well, that was grim," Logan deadpanned as he returned to his seat.

"Really? That bad?" Rory asked, looking up from her book and scrunching up her face.

Logan noticed she was now sitting sideways on the chair with her back against the window, far away from him, resting her feet on her armrest. He had expected her to carry on with her babbling or at least crack a joke about how horrendous commercial airline bathrooms were but she simply returned to her reading.

"What are you reading?" Logan hesitated to ask. He ought to be thankful she didn't appear madly interested in him, but at the same time that bothered him.

"Meg Cabot," she responded, not lifting her eyes from the page. "Normally, I read heavier stuff but I can't seem to concentrate…" she trailed off, leaving Logan to wonder she meant with that statement. Was it that she couldn't concentrate because he was sitting next to her? Or, because she was on a regular BA-flight with two-hundred and fifty other people or was it because something tragic happened to her and she couldn't stop thinking about that?

Logan's obsessive thinking was making him dizzy, so he dug his IPOD from his carry-on, put in his earphones and turned up the volume, hoping to drown out his thoughts but also to let her know that he was ignoring her. It was childish, yes, but she was effectively doing the same and two could play that game.

"Hey!" A sharp poke on his shoulder drew him from the soothing tones of Jack Johnson and back to the real world, where Rory's big eyes met his. He paused his tunes and pulled out his ear phones.

"Chicken or fish?" she asked him as she pointed to the flight attendant who was waiting patiently with a tray of warmed-up readymade meals.

"What did you get?" he asked Rory.

An outsider would have guessed it was a longstanding ritual: the boyfriend looking at his girlfriend for direction on food choices; however, Rory and Logan barely knew each others' names, so surely not long enough to have created such habits.

"Chicken," she responded with a casual smile, pointing to her tray-table. Logan noticed her book had disappeared.

He nodded, agreeing she made the right choice and ordered the same.

"You were pretty out of it," Rory mentioned, opening the tiny bottle of water that accompanied her lunch.

"I was?" he asked and proceeded to do the same.

"You were," Rory nodded, "What were you listening?"

Logan was caught a little off-guard. Maybe the altitude was messing with his mind, but it appeared as though she had taken control of the situation. First, she clung to him, quite literally, then she pushed him away and now she was reaching out again. Or, was she just making small talk as it was impossible to read and eat in the small area she had?

He stole another glance at his watch. Five hours. He could do this – whatever it was.

"Jack Johnson," he informed her, as he opened his plastic utensils.

"Really?" she asked in slight amazement.

"Yeah," he chuckled, "What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing, I just didn't peg you as the sensitive, poetic type," she shrugged in response.

He smirked at her, trying to figure out if her statement carried a hidden message.

"I'm a genuine enigma, Birkin," he said cockily, hoping that his response would answer a possible hidden message, too.

She laughed. "You keep telling yourself that," she said, giving him a sassy smile.

"I do," he shot back, lacing his tone with the same sass as her smile. Normally, a girl wouldn't call him out on his cockiness, but the guys usually did and he responded in the same fashion. He decided that he could no longer pursue Rory and so, by default, she sort of became one of the guys, giving him a chance to relax and open up. As long as she refrained from touching him, that is...

"I like different music," he told her, "Jack Johnson just happens to be one of them."

She nodded in agreement, "Me too. Everything from Jack Johnson to disco cover bands…" she laughed, "That's my friend Lane's influence, though, if it were up to me I'd never get passed the Billboard Top 100. She sends me this weird mixes with all sorts of different music… "

Logan grinned, "I'd like Lane, I think. I do the same to my friend Finn…" he rolled his eyes and took a bite of the chicken.

"Wow," he said, chewing slowly, "This is pretty bad."

Rory looked down at her untouched tray. She had eaten her roll and dessert first.

"The roll and dessert wasn't too bad," she said, trying to sound encouraging.

"But," he said, raising his finger, as if it was an important matter, "you haven't tried the chicken."

"Well," she tried to stall, but he wasn't buying it. He grabbed her plastic fork and stabbed a cube of sautéed chicken from her tub.

"Sauce?" he asked, pointing at the in indefinable brownish sauce.

"Might as well," she sighed, as he dragged the plastic fork through the brownish goop.

She held out her hand, waiting for him to pass the fork, but he didn't.

"Open wide," he said playfully, holding the fork right in front of mouth. She obliged and he carefully fed her the nasty chicken.

"Oh come on," she said, still chewing the chicken, "It's not that bad." Logan smiled, since she was putting on a good front, but her contorted face gave her away. She swallowed it and immediately took a big sip of her water. She caught his smirking face.

"Okay, okay," she relented, "You are right and I am wrong…"

He noticed the twinkle in her eye. "Is that what you want to hear?" she asked.

"Frankly," he said, picking up his pre-packed brownie, "Yes."

"Mean," she shot him a playful glare.

He smirked at her, but didn't talk. He felt her eyes trace him as he ripped open the brownie package and broke the sweet treat in two.

"Here," he said, holding it out to her, "Consider it a peace offering."

Rory surprised him by calling him even meaner. "You don't toy with a girl, especially when it comes to important things like chocolate!"

He shot her a disbelieving look. If she only knew how much self-control he was displaying by not toying with her. He laughed, "Is that so, Birkin?"

"Damn straight," she said, crossing her arms over her chest, "But, I'll take that brownie anyway," she added with a coy wink.

"That's the problem with flying commercial," Logan said knowingly, handing her the brownie, "The private jet has a better food to brownie ratio."

"This is so," Rory nodded in agreement, "Though I usually opt for burgers and fries."

"Really?" he asked, mildly stunned. Most women he knew followed a very strict regimen. They were forever counting calories, or working out how many hours or days they needed on the treadmill to work off a snickers bar.

"Fast metabolism," Rory informed him, as he realized he was staring at her perfectly slim body. "And, even if I didn't I'd eat them…burgers, I mean." She shot him a bright smile.

"When you say burgers," he asked suddenly, "Do you mean authentic grilled burgers or fast-food?"

She laughed. "Good question," she complimented him, before answering, "Both. It depends on my mood. A Big Mac is can be just as good as a diner burger."

He nodded in agreement, "McDonalds has the best fries, too."

Rory snorted, "No, they don't," she wagged a mock-scolding finger at him, "Burger King does."

"Are you serious?" he snorted.

"Yes," Rory said confidently, "In fact, I'll have my driver pick up a Big Mac and BK-fries if I'm in the mood for that."

"Seriously?"

"That's what he gets paid for," she shrugged unapologetically, "Besides, I'm sure you, Mr. Enigma, have some of your own quirky habits…"

Logan laughed as he liked how unapologetic she was concerning her background. She didn't treat it like a great tragedy or some superpower bestowed upon her. It was what it was, and at the end of the day her driver got a hefty pay-check to get burgers and fries for her. He also respected her witty comeback.

"I do," he laughed, "Getting pub burgers and McDonald's fries!"

"Now you are just teasing me," she pouted, turning her head away from him. He could tell it was an act, though.

"No, I'm not," Logan shook his head. It was the truth.

She shot him an unconvinced look, "I don't believe that for a minute."

"It's true," Logan said dramatically, "It's too bad I can't use my cell-phone in-flight. I'd call up Finn and he'd set you straight."

"Do you always call your friends to the rescue?" she asked lightheartedly.

"Only in dire times," he answered teasingly.

It was as if the initial awkwardness had melted away. They had fallen back into comfortable banter and Logan, once again, found himself wishing Rory wasn't a Girlfriend Girl.

"So, Birkin," he asked, stirring his rum-and-coke, "How does a girl like you end up on a commercial flight?"

"Well," she responded coyly, "How does a mysterious gentleman such as yourself wind up on a commercial flight?"

"I asked you first," Logan said. He had expected her to embark on a humorous story about oversleeping and missing her scheduled jet or something. Instead her features changed and definite sadness crept over her face.

'You can go first," she exhaled deeply, prompting him to give her a reassuring squeeze on her shoulder.

"You want the whole life story, or just the reason I'm stuck in this tin can with you?" he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

"Uh," she said distractedly, stirring her own libation, "You decide how much of the mystery you want to be made known...'

He nodded approvingly at her ability to engage in this semi-flirtatious banter.

"I live in London;" he told her, "Have all my life, really, ever since the parents sent me off to boarding school. I barely ever see them."

"Oh," Rory frowned, "That's sad…"

Logan was surprised by her reaction. Most people he knew shared similar relationships with their parents and it was all something they could collectively bitch about. Apparently, though, Rory had a fabulous bond with her family.

"Not really," Logan clarified: "my friends are my family and London is a great place to live."

Rory nodded understandingly, "So why are you off to JFK?"

"My father," Logan laughed slightly uncomfortably as Rory shot him an unconvinced look. "I thought you said you never saw them?"

"I don't," he was quick to explain. "This is just a business thing. Believe me, Birkin, the only relationship I share with my father is on a corporate level."

"Wow," Rory sighed. "That sucks…" she trailed off.

"So, what's your story, B?" Logan asked lightly. He had no intention of getting into the difficult Huntzberger family dynamics

"Well, what do you want to know?" she asked him.

"Where are you from?"

"The East Coast," she replied evasively, causing him to smirk. He certainly thought of himself as a complex, multi-layered individual, but this girl really took the cake.

"Which means you move and shake in the Society Circles of a) Connecticut, b) Boston or c) New York," he said using his game show voice.

"That would be correct," Rory smiled. "Connecticut," she clarified for him.

"Glad you answered," He gave her a warm smile, "I was afraid I'd have to use m lifeline." She returned the smile.

"JFK is a little bit out of the way, isn't it?" he continued his round of twenty questions. He didn't reveal that Connecticut was his would-be stomping grounds, though, had he not been shipped off to boarding school. It was odd to realize he was sitting next to someone who lived in the same world as he did, but grew up having an entirely different experience. He couldn't help but wonder if his experience would have been different if he had gotten the chance to get to know Rory in his youth.

"It was the only flight available," she said seriously, "I needed to get home."

He saw the despair in her eyes as she continued, "I was in Rome earlier, visiting Lane and her husband Dave," she paused, "They are on their honeymoon." She distractedly ran a hand through her hair, "Anyway, I needed to get home, and Rome, via London to JFK, was the fastest route."

He nodded understandingly as he wondered what pressing matter brought her home. He knew better than to mess with his father, otherwise he would have been drinking pints with his friends.

"Must have been some business deal if your dad made you fly commercial," Rory shot him a wry smile as she mused aloud.

"It is," Logan he said seriously. Internally, he consistently mocked HPG, but for outsiders he put on a proud smile, knowing that his father would kill him if he caught wind of bad press.

"So, what do you do?" Rory wanted to know.

Logan groaned inwardly. He was just fine putting up a two-word front, but he couldn't bear to sit here and explain in detail what he did for a living. It was too dangerous. Knowing she was from Connecticut meant that she might have heard stories about a certain blonde Huntzberger heir and that was just too messy and tangled to get into for the four remaining hours of the flight.

"Is it relevant?" he asked smoothly.

Rory shrugged, "Not really." A sly smile appeared on her face. "Can I take a guess, though?"

"By all means," he chuckled happily; glad to have dodged another bullet.

"I see you…." she made a rectangle from her thumbs and index fingers, capturing Logan's face in between, "I see you as a talent scout. The new Simon Cowell. I'm sure you can do a convincing British accent if you wanted to."

Logan laughed loudly and he was amazed at how accurately she was able to describe his ideal job. It was something he had wanted to pitch to his father for the longest time. Not the Simon Cowell part, but definitely scouting new musical talent and adding a record label to HPG impressive list of media acquisitions.

Rory and Logan continued to talk throughout the rest of the flight. Logan was in awe at how easy their conversation continued to flow. His instincts were right, though, Rory was a relationship girl. He knew that much about her and he didn't even know her last name! Just that she belonged to the Connecticut Set. That narrowed it down somewhat, but he had limited knowledge as to which families belonged to that part of Society.

Honestly, it didn't matter since he was not boyfriend material and he had no desire to become boyfriend material. He rolled his eyes; he was growing tired of himself. He never thought about relationships this much before and this whole 'not boyfriend' mantra he had started repeating irked him, since when did he start caring? Hadn't the point been to just play the game with Rory for the duration of the flight? It was coming to an end and soon they would go their separate ways. Let it go, Huntzberger, he told himself.

A slight crackle drew Logan from his collection of thoughts. It was the captain alerting his passengers that JFK was about twenty minutes away.

"Fast flight," Logan said to Rory, as she peeled off her fuzzy socks and tossed them in her expensive purse.

"Yeah," she nodded and Logan saw the color flood from her face for a second time.

"Afraid of landing, too, Birkin?" he asked in the same comforting tone he used before. It didn't surprise him this time, though.

"It's part of flying, isn't it?" she retorted.

"Yes, it is." He couldn't stop his lips from curling into a soft smile. "Come here," he said, pulling her in closer and breaking his own, once so important rules. He realized that the Game had never really stopped. In fact, this was a new beginning.