A/N: As always, thanks to those taking the time to review. Now, time for CoffeeGirl84 to meet NYC360. That's going to go just fine... right?
(for disclaimer, etc. - see chapter 1)
Chapter 7
"Seriously, you offered to meet a guy in real life that you only know online? Gilmore, I thought you were smarter than that! Please God, tell me you are still smarter than that!"
"Paris, breathe," Rory urged her, not least because most of the rest of the coffee shop patrons were now staring at them as if they were both insane. "You're making this sound way worse than it actually is and you're saying it all really loudly," she hissed across the table.
Paris rolled her eyes, but at least she gave the rest of her lecture at a slightly lower volume.
"I don't see how I'm making it worse than it is. Let's just look at the facts. You 'met' this supposed male in an online community for book lovers. You started emailing each other, knowing absolutely no concrete facts about the guy. Then you move onto instant messaging, and now, you've told him you'll meet in person, still not knowing his name, having never seen any ID, and therefore, risking your life. Did I leave anything out?"
The way she said it was both thorough and succinct, leaving no wiggle room for Rory at all. She couldn't actually tell Paris she had it wrong, that she missed out any details, or that she didn't make a very good point about stranger danger. Of course, that didn't change the fact that Rory trusted NYC360 implicitly, whether that made her a fool or not.
"Okay, so you have a point," she admitted, her hand on her forehead, "and yes, maybe I am being stupid, offering to meet a guy that could, technically, be anybody."
"A woman. A pervert. An axe-murderer!" Paris declared, once again far too loudly.
Rory shushed her for the umpteenth time, even though she ought to have known it wouldn't make the slightest difference.
Paris would not be denied. "Well, I see only one way forward. If you are determined to meet this person, then I'll have to go with you. I'd say it's an amazing coincidence that you planned this meeting to coincide with our catch-up, but I can already see from the look on your face, you did it on purpose."
"Yes and no," Rory squirmed, hating that she was doing it, but unable to help it somehow. "I mean, when I asked if he wanted to meet, we hadn't even finalised our meet-up," she explained, gesturing across the table between them, "but I have to admit, I didn't exactly try not to make both things the same day."
"So, you're meeting him tonight?" Paris realised, eyes wide with surprise. "Wow, you move a lot faster than you used to."
"Paris!" It was Rory's turn to be a little overly loud then, though she regretted it almost immediately and lowered her voice - she really was never going to come back to this place ever again. "It's not like that. You know Logan and I are-"
"You and Huntzberger are only doing what you're doing because it's convenient. God, on some level that's been true since Yale," said her friend, rolling her eyes then taking a long drink from her coffee cup. "Seriously, if this online 'friend' turns out to actually be the decent person he seems in writing - which I doubt, but hypothetically speaking - then you'd be a fool to pick Logan over him."
Though she immediately opened her mouth to protest that point, Rory found she didn't really have it in her to argue. Not that it would have done her any good to try, (1) because Paris never brooked any arguments anyway, and (2) because she was already in full flow, complaining to the server about a hundred and one minor infractions and therefore wouldn't have been listening to Rory's protestations in the first place. As it was, she couldn't really find any to give. She did love Logan, in a way, though she suspected if she really examined her feelings, their relationship was more of a habit than anything else. They were friends, they got along most of the time, but if she was as in love as she once thought she might be, his running around with other women would cause a much deeper wound than the minor dent to her pride that it actually made. Now if, on the other hand, she came to realise that NYC360 had a wife or serious girlfriend...
"So, where are we meeting Mr Online Chat tonight?" asked Paris then, her rant at the server apparently over, and what could only be a complementary 'please stop complaining' muffin in front of her on the table.
"Oh, at a diner. You know, when he suggested it and said it was a place he knew and loved, I agreed that I did too, without even thinking about it. It was only after, when he said maybe we had been there at the same time without knowing... It really is so weird to think we might actually have met already and not even know it yet."
"I guess." Paris nodded, chewing thoughtfully on a piece of muffin. "Just so long as the place you know him from isn't a 'Wanted' poster."
Rory rolled her eyes. Paris really did know how to take the romance out of everything! Not that she was prepared to let her spoil this occasion at all. Knowing it made sense to take a friend along for safety purposes, Rory did not at all object to Paris tagging along to the diner to see who showed up. Of course, once they established that everything was a-okay, she hoped her friend would at least keep her distance, if not leave altogether. Paris was great, but she had a habit of cramping a person's style, to say the least.
"I promise to stay on the opposite side of the diner until we're absolutely certain you're not in danger," she said, later that evening as they walked towards the diner in question. "You know, you should have a signal."
"We do have a signal," Rory assured her. "He's going to have a copy of Howl on the table and-"
"Not a signal for you and him, Gilmore, a signal for me" Paris huffed. "If you realise you're in danger..."
"Paris, I don't see that's going to happen, but if it does," she said fast, before her friend could interrupt, "you will know about it, because I promise to scream, very loudly, and you can come running over and krav maga his ass, okay?"
"I know you're making fun of me," said Paris, smirking nonetheless, "but screaming works, and I absolutely will kick his ass if he messes with you."
"And that is why I brought you along." Rory grinned, looping her arm through Paris' own as they crossed the street and walked on.
Around the next corner, they came upon the diner and Rory was suddenly nervous. It really wasn't Paris' talk of potential danger that had her rattled. On the contrary, she expected NYC360 to be the great guy she thought he was all along. It was more wondering what he might think of her that was making her nervous. What if she was a disappointment? Not in looks, maybe, but in some other way? What if when they finally met, she just wasn't all he hoped? What if, unfortunately, somehow, he wasn't what she hoped either?
They were all of six feet from the door when Rory stopped walking, a worse thought hitting her. What if the reverse were true and they really were as well-suited as they seemed? What if he was gorgeous and amazing and fell instantly in love with her? Then what? In reality, she was with Logan. She actually had no idea if NYC360 was single himself. The best-case scenario could end up being the worst-case scenario in a lot of ways. Rory felt sick at the very idea.
"I... I can't," she said, shaking her head, arm slipping out of Paris' grip as they faced each other. "God, you were right, this is such a stupid idea. I could ruin everything!"
"You're just now having this epiphany? Within spitting distance of the door? With the guy already in there waiting on you? God, Gilmore, could you be any later to the party?" Paris huffed in the way only she could, but then she seemed to realise just how serious her friend was in all of this and softened a little. "Okay, so let's just go. He never has to know we were ever here, and later, you can email the guy, tell him that your dog died or something."
"I don't have a dog," Rory muttered, as if she needed to say it, as if Paris was being literal in the pathetic excuse she suggested anyway. "I just don't... I want to meet him, I really do," she clarified, "but if he's... If I'm... Oh my God, what is the matter with me?"
Turning around, Rory gave up and sat down on the edge of the pavement her face in her hands. Sometimes, she wondered if there really was something wrong with her. After all, her life sure wasn't going in any direction she ever intended, not with her career or her romantic life or anything, really. The only part she was sure of these days was her friendship with a man she had never met, and now, she finally had the opportunity to see him face-to-face, to learn his name and all those other details they had never shared before, and she was terrified. Rory couldn't help but worry that if this got screwed up too, there would be nothing real left for her in New York at all.
"Hey," said Paris then, sitting down beside her and putting a comforting hand on her back. "I hope you know what I'm risking for you by sitting here. I mean, germs and bacteria aside, cold concrete is not good for anybody's ass."
Rory laughed a little at that, it was tough not to, but she was also acutely aware of the tears building behind her eyes at the same time. "I really, really like him," she admitted softly, "and I know you think that's crazy, it is crazy, but it's also true. I want to meet him so badly, but if I do..."
She couldn't say it, but that was okay. When Paris nodded, she knew her friend absolutely understood. A decade and more of knowing each other could do that for people, Rory supposed.
"Okay, here's what we're going to do," said Paris then, taking charge like she might at the hospital or at home. "I'm going to get up, go over to that window, and look for the guy with the copy of Ginsberg. If he looks like a good prospect, you'll go in, you'll be your amazing self, and if things don't work out, it'll be his loss. And if he looks like a complete loser, we can just hit a bar and I'll pay for you to get so damn drunk you won't care about this idiot anymore. You know, assuming that's what you need to do to feel better."
"I think I'd prefer ice-cream," Rory sniffled, "but I appreciate the sentiment either way."
That got a smile out of Paris, which was reflected in the smile Rory found for herself too. Together, they got up from the pavement and approached the diner again, though Rory let Paris get a little ahead of her to peer in the window first. Of course, she gave colour commentary as she searched around the tables.
"Okay, sickeningly cute couple, family with kids who really shouldn't be eating this late, old guy, single girl, businessman with an attitude, another old guy, and bingo, dude with a copy of Howl on the table. Wow, he's actually cute."
"He's cute?" Rory asked, trying not to be too excited at the prospect. "Wait, my kind of cute or your kind of cute?" she checked, frowning some as she thought of Paris' own partner - Doyle was sweet, but not to Rory's taste in the looks department, that was for sure!
"Cute in a conventional, tall, dark, and handsome kind of way," Paris confirmed, "though I can't promise on the tall, obviously. If I had to guess, I'd say Italian heritage, and of course, with this being New York..."
"Paris, do not even put it in my head that he might be a mob guy!" Rory warned, coming to stand beside her and peer into the diner for herself. "Oh my God!"
The shock was real and absolute when her eyes landed on the man in question, the guy who could only be NYC360. She blinked hard, then looked again, noting the book on the table and knowing for sure it could be no coincidence. Immediately, Rory turned around, her back flat against the wall as she breathed much too fast.
"Rory?" Paris asked worriedly. "What? What happened?"
"I know him. In real life, I know him," she explained, trying desperately to calm down but finding it almost impossible. "He owns the book store, the one right around the corner from the superstore we just opened. That I just opened! Oh my God, I'm the one who's putting him out of business. I told him to fight for his store and he's fighting me and... Oh, this is worse! This is actually worse than all the worst scenarios we came up with!"
"Worse than him being an axe-murderer?" asked Paris, one eyebrow raised, though the cocky expression didn't last long - she must have realised just how upset Rory really was.
They were back on the edge of the kerb after a few moments more, Rory still trying to catch her breath, Paris trying to tell her it was okay, though neither could really believe it. Of all the eight million people in New York City, what were the odds of this? Rory supposed one in eight million, or actually, maybe it was a little less. After all, she had to eliminate all the women from the equation, which ought to make it one in four million, except the ratio of men to women wasn't necessarily one-to-one, and then there were the kids to take out too...
"Gilmore, you're rambling," Paris warned her, only then alerting Rory to the fact she had actually been voicing aloud her thoughts on the breakdown of the city's vast and varied population.
"Oh, God!" she groaned, her face once again in her hands.
She didn't know what to do, what to say, where to turn. NYC360 was Jess Mariano. Jess Mariano was her online pen pal. That first day in his store when they met, it wasn't the first time at all. They had been talking for months. He knew her inside and out, and she thought she knew him the same way, yet they hadn't known each other at all. How was that even possible? How could any of this make sense?
"Damn it!"
When Rory looked at Paris then, she was staring at her beeper and looking more than a little mad.
"It's the hospital" She nodded, confirming what her friend already knew. "I'm sorry, I have to..."
"Go, I'll be fine," said Rory bravely. "Really, I'll just sit here a minute, gather my thoughts and then... and then I'll head home. What else can I do?"
Paris stared at her a moment as if considering, then nodded her head and rose to her feet, whistling to a cab driver that would've been a fool not to stop immediately. Thirty seconds later, she was waving goodbye, promising Rory she would call her later to check in, then she was gone.
Alone on the sidewalk, Rory glanced over her shoulder at the diner, then put her gaze firmly back the other way. She really did have to do what she just said - get up and go home and forget this whole night ever happened. It really was all she could do... wasn't it?
To Be Continued...