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Chapter 9

Rory spent the next three days avoiding the diner and hardly ever left her house. She went back to her dorm once to catch up on homework and such, but retreated back home where she felt safe and alone. She frowned down at her pro/con list, now the total of three pages; front and back with more factors to come. Some were slightly ridiculous:

Con: I still owe him an egg roll.

Others were extremely specific:

Con: Dean could see him and Jess could get angry and proud and could get into another fist fight and then Dean might lose Lindsay.

There was the rare one which Rory had written in the middle of the night that didn't make sense:

Pro: Will have bangalore with fries.

But it was coming to the point where everything was listed. She knew it and yet she still procrastinated making her decision with the search for factors. Rory, sitting on her bed, leaned back and kicked her papers towards the foot of the bed and threw her pen to the floor. She crossed her arms stubbornly and looked around the room; searching.

"There must be more..." She muttered. She scanned her bedroom for ideas, landing on her bookshelf; Howl and other poems was slightly more obvious than every other book. It was the same old and vandalized copy she'd held onto since she first bought it from Andrew's store when she was nine.

'You've read this before.'

'About forty times.'

Rory scoffed. "Well, guess what? I've read it fifty times!" She sneered at the book.

'Goodnight, Dodger.'

''Dodger'?'

'Figure it out.'

'Oliver Twist.'

Rory pulled a pillow to her face and groaned into it loudly. She whipped it down to her lap and looked back at the book sadly. "That was the moment, you know," she told it. "That was when I started to like you." She pulled the pillow back to her face. "That was the moment I began to fall in love with you!" Came her muffled voice through the fluffiness.

"Really?"

Rory froze. Her fingers curled around the pillow, silently refusing to lower it from her – probably extremely pale – face.

"...No..." she said, still with the pillow plastered to her beautiful face – one that shouldn't be covered. She could practically hear him smirking.

"Rory?" Jess's beautiful and familiar voice rang in her ears like a perfect symphony. Or a really great Metallica song.

Rory sat up straight and folded her legs as though to be more dignified, still with her face covered. "What are you doing here?"

"The door was open."

I knew I forgot something, Rory thought to herself. "That didn't answer my question, though."

She heard him take a step closer to the bed. He scratched at his ear uncomfortably. "Huh. Lorelai said to meet her here."

"Why?"

"I had to show her... something," he muttered, tracing his hand over his back pocket where a full note book was stuffed into. He looked at her sternly. Don't ask what, don't ask what.

"What?"

"Nothin'."

"Well my mom's not here."

"Huh. Guess she forgot," he said causally while running all the reasons why she had done this through his mind.

Not that he could tell, Rory sneered. "She has a staff meeting she's had planned for weeks."

Jess narrowed his eyes. "I'm not making this up," he said defensively.

"I didn't think you were." She did think he was.

"Uh..." Jess frowned at her, tilting his head a bit. "You gonna remove that pillow?"

"No," she said stubbornly, hugging it with her arms. Jess nodded along, keeping his face stern. "Ok." A deafening silence filled the room. "Rory, please remove the pillow so then at least you can see how uncomfortable I am."

"You're not alone in that," Rory said. Jess smiled. "But I'm not removing the pillow."

"Ok."

Jess's brow stitched together and through the silence all he could think was how extremely awkward things were. Rory broke the silence. "What did you want to show my mom?" She asked again.

"Nothin'," he repeated in the same defensive tone. There was yet another pause. "Tell you what;" Jess said, "I'll show you what it is if you remove the pillow from the face."

"No."

"Then... how are you going to see?"

"Oh, nice one, Sherlock," she sneered. Jess grinned to himself.

"Ouch," he said playfully, his grin becoming a beautifully wry smile. "Come on, Rory," he said and walked closer to her. She held on tighter to the pillow. "Rory..." He said, almost as a warning.

"Jess..."

"Rory."

"Jess."

"Rory!"

"JESS!"

Jess gritted his teeth, his hands on his hips and breathing – more like growling – heavily. He felt like Luke. Which is why he dropped his hands down to his sides and molded his expression to look like he sucked on a lemon.

Rory sighed. She finally removed the pillow revealing dark shadows being cast under her intense blue eyes and a few ink blotches on her cheeks and forehead. Jess found it rather cute that she had managed to get a smudge between her eyes. But generally, she looked dreadful; like she hadn't slept in days.

He thought he was smiling – he wanted to smile. But natural instincts made him not. Rory pouted unintentionally. She said, lifting her chin, "Go ahead; make fun. The way I look pretty much requires it."

He looked at her blankly, shrugging. "I wasn't going to."

She sneered. "Please! I look like Edward Scissorhands!"

He covered his mouth, stifling a laugh. Rory's eyes narrowed on him.

He shook his head, fighting all his urges to chuckle. "No, no, nothing's funny." A beat made Rory relax. "...I thought your band was very good when you were alive, Sid Vicious."

Rory glared at him. And Jess returned with a smirk. He knew she'd like it. And if she didn't, then it meant she didn't like him. But he knew she did. Hence the obnoxious smirk. Rory slapped him.