Chapter 10: In the meantime

[Part C]: New Year's party with The Great Gatsby

[Luke's, Stars Hollow, 29th of December 2018]

"They always go the extra mile," Lorelai grinned at her daughter. Rory and Lorelai were on their third cup of coffee at Luke's, working on their second piece of pie after the usual burger and fries combo. Leia was napping in her baby carriage, giving Rory a rare moment of peace. She filled her mom in on Finn, Colin, and Logan's grand New Year's event, which also served as the perfect excuse for Lorelai to babysit Leia for the next three days. Rory had made the trek to Stars Hollow to drop Leia off before the big weekend.

"Well, or in this case, the extra 20,000 miles."

"Ah, the Gilmore way."

Rory chuckled. "The Gilmore way on speed with three American Express Black Cards to pay for it."

"I always liked that Finn," Lorelai admitted with a grin.

"You liked Finn because he has the biggest, most obvious crush on you and constantly showers you with compliments."

"You say that like it's a bad thing."

Ignoring her mother's banter Rory elaborated on the theme on hand "It's this massive event, inspired by the Roaring Twenties. Finn, Colin, and Logan rented out a mansion on Long Island, just across from New Haven. It's this huge 1920s-themed party, and knowing them, they've gone totally overboard. They've been planning for months, and no idea—or budget—has been too crazy."

"They did this kind of stuff at Yale too, right?" Lorelai asked.

"Exactly. Back then, they had funding from the Life and Death Brigade alumni, and they all had AmEx Black Cards courtesy of their fathers. But now? In 2018, they're all 36-year-old CEOs and multimillionaires with way too much imagination. It's a dangerous combination."

Lorelai raised an eyebrow. "But really, is this just about a party, or is there more to it?"

Rory hesitated for a moment before leaning in slightly, glancing around to make sure Luke wasn't within earshot. He was busy in the kitchen, so she continued in a quieter voice. "I think it's more about someone else for Finn."

Lorelai's eyes widened. "Someone I know?"

Rory nodded. "someone, as in April!"

"APRIL?!" Lorelai's voice rose in surprise, earning her a glare from Rory.

"MOM! Quiet!" Rory hissed.

"Sorry, sorry," Lorelai whispered. "Our April? Your sister April?"

"The one and only."

"Wow. Why didn't I know this?"

"There's nothing to tell, really. At our wedding, they were paired up, and April was fascinated by Finn's charm. But he wasn't even noticing her at the time. Then, at Leia's christening, Finn suddenly saw her, but April was all too aware of his womanizing ways and didn't reciprocate. It's been bugging Finn ever since, and I think he's using this New Year's party as an excuse to finally get a shot with her."

Lorelai smirked. "I can't wait to hear how this goes."

"Me neither," Rory sighed. "But I need to get back to NYC before rush hour. Have a great weekend and give Leia a thousand kisses from me."

"Will do, hon," Lorelai said, waving goodbye as Rory stood to leave.

[The Huntzberger House in NY, the 30th of December 2018]

The following day, the gang arrived at the Huntzberger house for lunch to kick off this year's New Year's event.

They had all been instructed to pack for two nights, get a nanny if needed, and to bring exclusive swimwear, daywear, evening attire, and sportswear—all inspired by the 1920s. The exclusivity of the event went without saying; the costumes were essential to maintaining the integrity of the theme, and in true Life and Death Brigade fashion, secrecy surrounded the rest of the event.

The dining room was buzzing with laughter and lively conversations as Rory looked around the table. It was one of those surreal moments where her life felt like a collision of worlds. To her left sat Logan, chatting animatedly with Colin and Tristan about old Life and Death Brigade-escapades. To her right, Odette was playfully grilling April about her life at MIT, while Finn, ever the charmer, was making witty comments that had the whole table in giggles.

Rory couldn't help but smile at the odd assortment of people gathered at the table. It was a reunion of sorts, blending friends from Chilton, Yale, and their adult lives in New York. The contrast between groups was stark, yet everyone seemed to mesh surprisingly well. As she sipped her wine, she spotted Finn casting a glance at April from across the table. He leaned back in his chair, a sly grin spreading across his face, clearly enjoying the subtle flirtation, though April appeared to be trying her best to keep her distance.

"So, Finn, any grand plans for the weekend besides charming all the ladies?" Rory teased, raising an eyebrow.

Finn placed a hand dramatically over his heart. "Why, Rory, you hurt me. I'm but a humble servant to the whims of our Gatsby-themed festivities. But if my charms happen to work their magic along the way…" he trailed off with a wink in April's direction.

April rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress the faint smile tugging at her lips. "Let's just say, your magic hasn't exactly worked on everyone, Finn," she retorted, her tone playful but with an edge of truth that didn't go unnoticed by Rory.

Colin, sensing the shift in the air, leaned forward and clinked his glass against Finn's. "Don't worry, mate. There's always someone at these events who can't resist a little Gatsby charm."

The conversation drifted back into lighter territory as Logan stood, signaling it was time to head to Long Island. "Alright, everyone," he said, his voice cutting through the chatter, "get your Gatsby suits ready. We've got a mansion, vintage cars, and enough champagne to make even Jay Gatsby himself jealous. Let's make it a weekend to remember."

Long Island, The Gatsby Mansion

The drive to Long Island in the fleet of vintage cars was nothing short of cinematic. Rory could hardly believe the extravagance of it all, even by Life and Death Brigade standards. The mansion, perched by the water, glowed against the evening sky, its white columns and grand architecture straight out of a 1920s novel.

As the guests began exploring the sprawling estate, Finn led the way to the pool area, where waiters were already serving cocktails, and a jazz band was playing softly in the background.

"This place is insane!" April whispered to Rory as they walked toward the pool. "It's like we've stepped into another era."

Rory nodded, taking it all in. "Leave it to Finn to turn a party into a full-blown historical reenactment," she said, glancing over at Finn, who was now holding court with Tristan, Steph, and Colin by the bar. "Speaking of which," Rory added, noticing Tristan leaning in a little too close to Stephanie, "I wonder how long before Colin loses his cool."

April followed Rory's gaze and chuckled. "I give it an hour, tops."

Just as Rory predicted, Colin was already looking slightly uncomfortable with the way Tristan was laughing at Steph's every word. Meanwhile, Steph was reveling in the attention, giggling and twirling her cocktail glass in her hand.

"Well, this should be interesting," Rory muttered, keeping an eye on the interaction.

As the night wore on, the party slipped into full swing. The alcohol flowed freely, the music got louder, and the lines between reality and the Gatsby fantasy blurred. Guests flitted between the pool, the ballroom, and various hidden nooks of the mansion, some disappearing for secret rendezvous while others danced under the stars.

Robert, who had arrived with Juliet, was now noticeably absent from her side. Rory caught sight of him leaning against a pillar, sharing a laugh with Louise, who was batting her eyelashes at him in a way that could only mean trouble.

"Well, at least someone's having fun," Rory muttered, watching as Robert casually slipped his arm around Louise's waist, pulling her closer.

Inside the mansion, the atmosphere had become thick with flirtation and excess. Tristan, ever the charming playboy, had caught Steph's attention. He stood close to her at the bar, leaning in as they talked, his blond hair tousled and his tuxedo perfectly tailored. Steph, always one to enjoy the spotlight, giggled at something he said, her hand brushing lightly against his arm.

Colin, watching from the other side of the room, was visibly tense. His drink was untouched, his eyes locked on the scene unfolding between Steph and Tristan. Rory noticed the way Colin's jaw clenched as Tristan leaned in even closer, his mouth dangerously near Steph's ear. She could see the storm brewing, but it was Steph's carefree laughter that sent Colin over the edge.

Draining his glass in one swift motion, Colin strode toward them, his eyes blazing. "Enjoying yourself?" Colin's voice cut through the laughter, sharp and cold.

Tristan looked up, unfazed by Colin's arrival, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. "Immensely," he replied, raising his glass in a mock toast. "Steph's quite the conversationalist."

Steph froze, sensing the tension between the two men. "Colin, we were just—"

"I know what you were just doing," Colin interrupted, his voice low and dangerous. "Maybe you'd like to remind Tristan here that you're taken."

Steph flushed, embarrassed by the sudden confrontation. Tristan, however, seemed to be enjoying himself. "Relax, mate," he said, his tone deliberately casual. "We're just having a bit of fun."

"Yeah, well, keep your fun to yourself," Colin snapped, his fists clenching at his sides.

Steph quickly stepped between them, trying to diffuse the situation. "Colin, stop. You're overreacting."

"I don't think I am," Colin muttered, his eyes still locked on Tristan, who raised his eyebrows in amused defiance.

With a final glare, Colin turned on his heel and stormed off into the crowd, leaving Steph standing there, her face burning with embarrassment. Tristan shrugged and took another sip of his drink, clearly unbothered by the whole encounter.

"Well, that could have gone worse," Tristan said with a wink, but Steph was already turning away, scanning the crowd for Colin.

Meanwhile, Robert had grown increasingly bored with Juliet, who was now chatting with a group of guests from Chilton. He hadn't paid her much attention all night, and it seemed the feeling was mutual. His interest had shifted the moment Louise had walked into the room.

Louise, draped in a shimmering silver gown, had been the center of attention since the moment she arrived. She and Robert exchanged a few glances throughout the evening, their chemistry undeniable. It wasn't long before Robert found himself beside her on a velvet chaise in one of the mansion's more secluded rooms.

Juliet, still mingling elsewhere, was none the wiser as Robert and Louise slipped away from the party. Their whispered conversation turned into something more as they disappeared into the shadows of the mansion, leaving behind any semblance of propriety.

Inside the opulent mansion, where chandeliers shimmered overhead and the echo of jazz filled the halls, Finn found a moment alone with April. The Gatsby-themed party was in full swing, guests adorned in 1920s attire, draped in pearls and flapper dresses, their laughter floating on the air like smoke. Finn, ever the chameleon, had traded his usual laid-back charm for something more polished tonight—more Gatsby than the Aussie rogue his friends knew him to be.

He leaned against the fireplace, his tuxedo sharp, the flicker of the fire casting a warm glow across the room. "April," he called softly, his accent still tinged with its usual Australian lilt, though his words were smoother now, more deliberate. "Why don't we make this a night to remember?" he asked, his voice low, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

April turned to face him, her gaze steady and unreadable. The grandness of the evening—the mansion, the flowing champagne, the endless indulgence—it was all so quintessentially Finn. Yet something felt different. She'd watched him all night, seen him slip in and out of conversations, playing the part of the charming host, effortlessly Gatsby-esque. But beneath that polished surface, she saw something else. Something she didn't like.

"You know, Finn," she began, her tone cool as she took a step closer, "I'm not looking to be your entertainment for the evening." Her words landed softly but with an edge that cut through the frivolity of the room.

Finn blinked, his smirk faltering ever so slightly. "Love, you've got it wrong," he said, slipping back into his usual banter. "It's just a bit of fun, yeah? A night like this—" he gestured around at the glittering surroundings, "—it's made for memories."

But April wasn't swayed. She stepped even closer, her eyes locking onto his, her voice firm. "I'm not one of your 'Sheilas' you can charm with a few sweet words," she said, the weight of her rejection lingering in the space between them. "I'm not interested in being another name you toss around in stories at the next party."

For a moment, Finn stood there, uncharacteristically silent. The easy confidence he wore like a second skin wavered. He was used to getting what he wanted, especially with women. But April's calm, unwavering rejection hit him harder than he cared to admit.

"I wasn't—" he started, his words trailing off, but April cut him off, her gaze unrelenting.

"Finn, I've seen you tonight. You can play Gatsby all you want, but I see the real you beneath the tux," she said softly, though her words carried a weight that neither of them could ignore. "And I'm not interested in being part of that world."

She didn't wait for his response. Turning away from him with a grace that belied the tension of the moment, April walked toward the door, leaving Finn standing there, still leaning against the fireplace, the fire crackling softly behind him. For the first time that evening, the weight of the mansion's grandeur felt less like a celebration and more like a cage, closing in on him.

He watched her go, uncharacteristically speechless. "Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath, the usual bravado slipping back into place, though it felt hollow now. He hadn't expected this. Not from April.

As the sounds of the party carried on, Finn remained where he was, alone in the grand room that suddenly seemed too large, too quiet. His friends were scattered across the mansion, caught up in their own dramas, but Finn couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted—something he couldn't quite place.

For the first time in a long while, Finn was left to wonder if, like Gatsby, he'd spent too long chasing after something—or someone—that would never be his.

Finn stayed by the fireplace long after April disappeared into the throng of guests. The glittering lights, the endless champagne, the laughter—they all felt distant, a dull hum beneath the sharp realization that tonight hadn't gone the way he expected.

He sighed, raking a hand through his tousled hair as the party continued without him. He had tried to make it something—tried to get closer, to charm April the way he always did with everyone else. But April had seen through him.

Unlike the other women Finn had encountered, April wasn't swayed by the surface-level allure of his charm. She had made her choice, and it wasn't him. Not now, at least. As much as Finn liked to shrug off rejection, this one left a heavier weight on his chest than usual. He wasn't used to feeling like he was truly losing something he wanted.

With one final glance at the revelers around him, Finn pushed away from the fireplace. He knew she was leaving soon, back to Boston, back to MIT. He couldn't shake the image of her walking away from him—literally and figuratively—determined to focus on her work, her Ph.D., instead of what they could have had tonight. Maybe that was what he admired most about her: her clarity, her priorities. But it was also what made her harder to reach.

Finn's grin returned, though it was softer, more wistful now. He knew her leaving for Boston would put miles—literal and metaphorical—between them. April had set her sights on her Ph.D., and the next two years would be a marathon of research, labs, and papers. There was no place in that world for someone like him, not in the way he wanted.

January would roll into February, and the years would slip by, filled with fleeting messages and brief encounters during holidays or family events. Nothing would change until she finished her Ph.D., until she moved to New York in early 2021. That's when their paths would cross again—when Finn would get his next chance.

He didn't know it now, standing in the glow of the Gatsby party, but he would have to wait two long years before he'd get another shot. Two years before April would be done with MIT, done with Boston, and ready for something more.

With that thought, Finn straightened, a glimmer of hope rekindling in his chest. He wasn't one to wait around for anything, but for April? Maybe he'd make an exception.

As the night wound down and the first light of dawn crept over Long Island Sound, Finn walked back into the crowd with his signature swagger. The party wasn't over for everyone, but for him, it was just the beginning.