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Chapter Eighteen: The Heart is the Guide, The Heart Knows What it Wants, The Heart is True (part 3)

Paris's POV, 12:30am-1:00am

I have never had a crazier evening than I had tonight.

I'm being truthful here. Every night I've lived, compared to this, has been calm and collected compared to December 7, 2002.

Not even the night Louise caught some kind of illness and feared she was pregnant, forcing Madeline and I to her house at 2:30am in the morning with 3 CVS-bought test kits in hand (along with a $50 bribe to shut the clerk up), having to calm her down as she swore she would never, ever have sex again.

When she didn't see the line though, she kept her schedule and had another guy after she felt better, three days later. That night also changed Madeline's attitude towards sex, and since then she's been so very cautious.

I tell you this, because this happened only seven months ago. I've never told Rory, and neither has Madeline, because of a vow to Louise to never say anything. Louise is playing with fire right now, and I'm just thankful that Madeline has veered away from Lou's current course. Even if in my mind I'd rather she go out with anyone but Brad, he is good for her. Her grades are up, her eyes are on the prize, and she's finally under the impression that she can do good in this world, and I know she will.

But I was even more surprised to see her so accepting of Rory as my girlfriend. I didn't think of her as willing to accept it, remembering her 'fuck off, pervert, I'm not a lez' comment when guys circled her and Louise at a party, hoping they'd kiss. However, in the conversation in the bathroom when I brought it up, she said she just meant it to get the men away from her, not as her feelings at all.

"I would never hate anyone attracted to the same sex," she explained. "I really don't see what the big deal is about gay marriage being fought and everything. I'd think the wedding industry would love it, and if those in denial would marry someone they loved if they were their own sex, I think we wouldn't see as much divorce. I hate divorce, it's so mean, and any lawyer involved with divorce is an asshole."

"Madeline!"

"Well, not your father's, she fought the good fight for him. Your mom's on the other hand...grrr." She finished her point. "You should be happy. But you shouldn't be happy because you denied yourself other happiness. Rory has been good for all of us, but most of all, she's been good for you. I think you need to tell her that tonight if she gets her head out of her ass."

"But you know her issues with admissions," I explained. "You don't remember two years ago with Dean?"

"Paris," she reminded me calmly. "He did it in the wrong way, in the classical big buildup where she had almost no choice and would've been the bitch if she said nothing, and she was stuck. He didn't say it in a normal moment at all, and if I was in that position with him, I'd be petrified. But you have all this momentum with her, where nothing can go wrong."

This would be the turning point in stopping me from just leaving Rory in the lurch. "Now, if you two can clean up things just right, follow your heart, look at her, and know from there if the moment is right." She set her hand against my shoulder, and I saw her be all I needed to be; a friend giving me advice I truly needed. "I know you have issues with Sharon and Tristan was a big quagmire, but from what you've said about her tonight, this is you being humble, human, and wanting of her. You've asserted your femininity with her, and the both of you, there's no shyness beyond the romantic kind. You're no longer the girl who slid down her locker just because Tristan greeted you. You're happy with her, and you should tell her that."

"If you're sure," I said, scared about what was to happen after I called Lorelai to start the plan to get her back.

"You have to be." We then went on to talk about said plan, and she gave me the idea to call Lorelai, and eventually, I was back to being able to shorten Rory's name again, along with being her lover.

Also, I said the three words. Words, which I had never used with anyone else before.

I remember pausing just a bit before I said them, wondering if she was ready or not. Just a half-hour after being pissed at me, she was getting herself off in front of me, to the sound of my voice. I said them tentatively, knowing something could turn one way or another. I also prepared myself just in case she felt it was the wrong time, that if she reacted wrong, she would know that I wasn't going to leave her at all. That like I told her earlier, this wasn't a situation like she was in with Dean. I've been hurt myself, and I know how she felt to have someone abandon her coldly.

But she responded positively, despite not returning them at my behest. Through it all, we have solidified our bond further. We're both so full of tension, and again being affectionate. I'm sure Henrico in the front is wondering if he'll score combat pay for having to deal with two horny women (the answer to that is him and his family will have quite the Christmas this year), and I can tell that he's happy for me, though behind the partition I'm sure he was playing his music cassettes as loud as he could without interrupting our own harmony. Still, I know he doesn't mind, and that he's just as angry at Sharon as I am.

Frankly, that Rory and I recovered as much as we did is a miracle, considering how cold she had been to me up until I pointed out her lack of a cell phone. But we have, and with Madeline encouraging me further, if I had ignored her advice I may have done something I might have regretted. Not only sleeping with Jamie out of spite for Ror (I actually considered it, but for two seconds), but that I would have just left without a word and let the situation fester until Rory and I were further broken apart and only would unite on the stage at graduation.

But I kept her. I used a mix of my education, and my newly found skills in the art of flirting and driving her up a wall to win her back. A month ago, I would not have pictured myself using my shorthand sig against her vagina, but it worked. It riled her up, and it got her to think that I still saw things her way.

Of course, it left me feeling tight once I realized she decided to take my cue and go to the Formal without panties on. I swear, Gilmore looks innocent and pure if you just look at her. But inside, she's making me feel like the Big Bad Wolf leering at Tex Avery's Red Hot Riding Hood.

At least this time, everything doesn't end with me being cornered by her horny grandma: I apologize profusely if your thoughts wandered to Emily behaving like that.

But I'm glad that after we talked out the tension and she got out her other tension, I was also able to eat, finally. I was so hungry for my fish and chips, and it was well worth it to finally take in another one of my culinary guilty pleasures besides mac and cheese. Rory was just as hungry, and we enjoyed our dinners on the way to the Hollow (no, I did not forget Henrico and he ate too), talking about homework things and about layout plans for Formal coverage in the next Franklin issue. Although I wasn't able to see the event on the sidelines like I thought I would, it seemed like a success, since we also had a toy drive component where a new toy could be brought in at the ticket sale for a discount. We had so many toys we filled the barrel, and the last-minute attendees filled it again, forcing us to use a spare foot locker from the locker room. I think we did well as far as fundraising, and thanks to new security I think we'll do a lot better controlling fights between morons than we had the past few years.

However, none of that was on my mind at all. I was surprised that Rory asked me to go home, rather than hang out somewhere in Hartford.

"Doesn't everything close by eight?" I asked.

"You're right." She smiled towards me. "But I know somewhere that's open almost all night." When I asked she didn't say a word, so I was left in a fog of mystery as to where the rest of the night would lead. I couldn't think of anything except her having Luke stay open late, but I know the guy's a sucker for punctuality and always closes by around 8:30. When I asked where we were headed to, she shook her head. I was left to my own devices, and due to my limited knowledge as to the layout of Stars Hollow's plat and businesses, I was left to think we might be headed for a Laundromat for all I knew.

Which of course, connected to thoughts of Rory naked while her dress was in the spin cycle. Frustration, she is a cruel goddess.

With our food finished and the time at about 11:30pm, Rory guided Henrico past Monty, local steel rooster/directional landmark, and had him drive towards the town square until we were at the west side of the circle surrounding the gazebo in the center of the town.

"We're here," she said cheerfully.

"How long do we need?"

"Um, could you have him meet you at 1:15am at my house?" I smiled, and hit the button on the intercom to speak to him.

"Un quince en un treintados Carril de Cerezas. Estaré allí, daré o tomaré algunos minutos."

"Sí, Señorita Gellar. Buena tarde a ti y a Señorita Gilmore."

"Gracias." We left the car, and he drove off, as Rory regarded me oddly.

"You enjoy speaking their language, don't you?" she asked, and I nodded.

"Rory, I'm not like your grandmother who thinks of maids in the same way as utility outfielders. At least 80% of the staff of the Manor has been there since I've been born, and 35% were serving my grandfather and my daddy when he was a child in the 60s. We love to think of them as family, and beyond my mother, they've always been treated fairly and enjoy their employment with us. Fran, for instance was hired by my father based on a friend's recommendation when his wife went into labor in Lisbon and Fran was her midwife. He took that recommendation very seriously, and did everything for her."

"Did she help give birth to you?"

"Mm-hmm; my mother refused to open her eyes until I was all clean and my father was somewhat petrified at having some unknown intern hold my umbilical cord in place for cutting, so she held it in place while the scissors were put through." I brought my jacket close, feeling an extreme chill in the air. "She was actually a prodigy herself though, graduating high in her intermediate school class and having strong English fluency. It took her awhile to speak bilingually, and there are some traits that aren't going to be fixed in her speech. But she understands everything well, and she understands me. I remember I was taught by my father to follow Portuguese as a second language, but it was my first to begin with. When I was three I asked for a glass of leite from a maid, and she had no idea what I was asking for. My father had actually been learning Portuguese to keep up with Francisca and I, and knew it was milk I wanted."

"I couldn't imagine remembering two languages at that age."

"I know, it was hard. But since it was naturally part of my upbringing, I love it. I enjoy being able to correspond with more than Commonwealth countries." We continued to walk, her talking about Emily's long line of maids as we headed towards our destination. I didn't know where we were headed, and we walked three blocks around the town square. The temperature on the Oak Cities Savings & Loan clock read 24°F, and the sky was pink. Rory walked slowly, anticipating something, her head craned up towards the sky.

"What are you doing?" I looked up with her. "There's no stars we can see."

"I know, I just get this feeling, you know? That sense that there's a change coming?"

"A change?"

"In the weather," she explained. "You remember how my mother is obsessed with snow?"

"How could I ever forget?" I rolled my eyes, remembering the phone call I made to Rory last January cursing that debate prep would have to be pushed out of the way because of a snow day. "I swear, snow has the same effect as cocaine on her."

Rory smiled slightly towards me, the comparison apt for her. "I won't disagree. I love snow myself, but when it gets in my way I don't enjoy it. I got stuck once at Grandma's one day after school because of it."

"I had to go through a power outage from a snowstorm at the Vermont cabin once," I shared. "We had the fireplace, but I was still freezing horribly. It was dark out too, and the next cell tower was 25 miles away. By the time it came back on the next morning, I swear my earlobes could hammer a nail in."

"How far away were you from anything?"

"We couldn't even get any television from Burlington, and the only radio stations locally available were in French and from Quebec."

"You knew French I hope."

"Just a bit at that time," I responded. "But I learned just enough to communicate emergency warnings to my parents. When spring came, my father immediately had a generator and a fuel supply installed near the cabin so it wouldn't happen again. My grandfather had a hard time with it though. He had the cabin built in the 30's to help out the local population during the Depression, and he hated to see us make it 'luxurious' when it was meant to be an escape from the bustle of urban New England."

"Kind of like our Cape Cod house."

"Yeah, except we know there's no one out where we are except for maple syrup smugglers and bears." We chatted on for a little while longer, past the library and the firehouse, basking in the silence of the usually busting village at 11:15 on a December Saturday evening. The holiday lights in the town square and on light poles were all turned off, the few cars parked along the street those used by occupants of downtown apartments. I couldn't hear anything at all beyond our footsteps and the rustling of the wind against trees. It was so quiet I could also make out the clicking of the switch blinking a stop sign about 300 feet away.

The turmoil I felt after Jamie revealed that my mother was playing with my love life was dissipating, though the anger remained at her for using my name in such a way as to change things around. I don't know that this time I can get over her doing this to me. Before she had been subtle and I could easily ignore her demands and threats towards my love life. But she proved to me tonight that I couldn't avoid her anymore. I felt a horrible sourness in my stomach thinking about her writing love missives to Jamie in 'my voice'.

I also think about how she signed my name within those letters. I have a complicated hallmark that's tall and slants to the right as left-handed writing is apt to do, and I thought it was so foolproof that my right-handed mother could never copy it. But since Jamie never saw me sign anything, for all I know she signed my name with a heart above the I and a happy face at the end. But I think she used my real one, probably acquiring it from something I signed and having it printed on a rubber stamp. People might think me paranoid for having all my cards printed with 'see ID' and that my father and I are the only ones authorized to do anything with my banks and investment houses. But it's better to be overly cautious than slip up on something as simple as a library request form.

I'll be honest, I'm freaking out internally at what she's been doing, that with her hand, she can change anything, even my reputation. I still have an empty feeling in my stomach that she's suspicious of where I am at times, that she's catching on. She hasn't seemed to catch on yet, but one day, soon, she will.

But for now, I have that in the back in my mind. I can't think positively if I'm basing every decision I make on what Mother would do to interfere. For tonight was about proving to Rory how much love I had for exactly beyond my Price is Right-infused wisecrack of earlier.

It was another five minutes and a conversation about life sciences before we arrived at where Rory said was open all night.

"We're here," she said brightly. I looked up, surprised.

"Here?" I pointed towards the building. "But its 11:30 in the evening. How are you going to get in?"

"A key." She gave me a questioning glare, as if I didn't know how to open the door, while she reached into her bag for her keyring. "Were you expecting to be somewhere else?"

"An all night restaurant, or maybe the Inn," I admitted. "But not here." The 'here' being the former rail depot, now Miss Patty's dance studio/default town meeting site/polling place. I didn't want to seem like I was breaking any rules. "How did you get the key anyway?"

"Miss Patty trusts me; sometimes when the library or Inn are both too crowded to study, I can use the old ticket booth inside to study. I also help her out with more than that, such as props for her recitals and holiday events." She unlocked the door, and I still felt uncomfortable, no matter that Ms. LaCosta was the first to know about us. I stood still as she opened up the front door.

"Paris, I assure you, we're both fine." She smiled in my direction, stretching out her arm as to invite me in. "No one ever comes in at this time at night. It's quiet and a place to go, and offers privacy in this town." Still, I was nervous, even if Lorelai assured me to have fun and to not feel pressured to bring back Rory so fast.

It was then she noted how red my cheeks were. "Get inside, you're freezing!"

I saw her look at me, and I know I couldn't refuse her, no matter my fears. I also couldn't deny that I was in a town where peace and quiet beyond gossip was something you had to find and ferret out.

One more minute I was outside, and then I went in with her, as she closed the door behind me and locked it, turning on a couple banks of lights lining the outer walls of the station, enough to create a visible atmosphere. The building was warm, much unlike the ice cold weather outside which was freezing my legs. My feet hurt in the heels I wore, but I kept on the shoes for a bit as Rory slid her hand into mine.

"Is this better?" she said softly, the words echoing through the former station lobby. "I just haven't had a quiet moment with you, alone tonight. Not that your driver didn't leave us alone, but I just don't need him privy to a private moment."

My eyes scanned the depot, old dancing posters in both Spanish and English along the walls of the room, along with a few old train schedules and advertisements. I never really had a close examination of the building during the play rehearsals, and found myself wanting to explore further. I let go of Ror's hand, and took off my jacket to hang on a hook near the dressing room where I assumed all the ballet students changed.

I felt the days of my youth return, a flashback to the school where I honed my dance skills every day after school, and for most of the summer, as an escape from my mother's idea of fun, which involved flash cards and repetitive ESPN2-like workouts. I know with certainly there was no way I could perform even a simple fouetté in the current day, which was child's play way back then for me. I let the regret of losing that possible career rise up within me, wondering how it could have been if Ms. LaCosta was my teacher way back then.

When I finished hanging my coat, I came back to Rory's side, watching her starting into a glass display case towards the back of the room.

"What are you looking at?" I walked towards her.

"I haven't been here since the day before the marathon. Apparently, Miss Patty is really proud of us." She had me look down, towards a display recapping this year's marathon. Clippings from the Courant and the high school's paper were on a shelf, along with a program listing all of the competitors on the floor opened up to the page our names appeared on.

A picture of us, captioned as having been taken around the time of our break at 4:30 am, showed us bonding, talking over strategy on first glance. My legs laid against the bleachers as Rory massaged my feet in the small space before the end of the yellow card break. We looked so close and intimate, that we didn't even know the picture was taken, too busy in our own little world as we strategized how to take down Kirk and Carrie. On each side of the picture, our '131' numbers, which we thought we had discarded wrapped around to define the display, and below the picture, a stopwatch reading 23:48:07.64 was still stopped at the exact moment, as if time stood still. Other pictures were in the display on the bottom shelf, of us in the crowd during the early hours, right in the middle, and in the center...

"How did they get a photo of that moment?" I was utterly in shock, reminded of the moment when I came back in and swept Rory off her feet just before my yellow card time expired. Below it, the text read Paris pushed the limits to bring the best out of her partner. "I...I didn't even think it was that big of a deal."

"She hasn't done a display this complicated in years," Rory noted, looking down towards my hands, tightened into fists from being so nervous. "Usually with Kirk she just puts up a plaque and a picture, and it's good enough. But this year she went all out."

"It's nice," I said, smiling. Usually because of the prestige of the sports teams over academics, I always felt as if celebrations of my academic victories were too muted. It was always celebrated just by myself, or the team out at some suburban restaurant in Bristol, which was always picked because the guys hoped to meet Stuart Scott or Chris Berman having dinner or something. To show off a victory, an award in the trophy case was good enough.

This, however was beyond awesome. The both of us looking at the results of such an accomplishment, to outlast the entire town on the dance floor, I loved it, to share the moment with her. That even against the odds, we won that marathon, it brings back the confidence that we can do anything if we're passionate and focused on each other and the goal.

I was focused on her in that moment, and I unclenched my fists, moving to pin her against the case. "How we did that on such a hormone overload, I will never figure out. Between the two of us, we were probably beyond overloaded by the end of the night." I brushed some hair from her eyes, looking up at her as if she was the most beautiful girl. "And even after. We had to have spent at least 96 hours between prep, the event, and the confession holding everything in."

"It was more than that for me, I hadn't done a thing since that morning I had to borrow a shirt from you. I would have partaken if I didn't have to break up with Dean. Until you left I had to make do with cold showers and bad thoughts about you." She felt a bit down having to admit she held out five days for her own pleasure, to focus on trying to romance me. "How long was it between for you?"

"The night you broke up with him, I was in my room, wearing your shirt." I tittered nervously, admitting my depravity. "I didn't think I'd ever get so close to holding something of yours in my arms, even if you had borrowed it. It was wonderful, seeing you in my blouse. I still haven't washed it, and I have no plans to, probably ever." I was blushing, deeply, as she moved closer to the edge of the case. "I remember when you stripped off your wet shirt, how hot and nervous I felt with you in my bedroom. It was...it was..." We were moving closer together, the satin of my dress rubbing against her grey frock. "I remember the way your nipples tightened against the ribbed cotton of the tank top, how I wanted to slide my hands beneath your arms and slide them around within my fingers..."

"Paris." Her voice was deepened, hoarse, her eyes shutting, overwhelmed with the stimuli. "You really need to stop having a way with words."

"What's wrong, hon?" I pouted my lips. "Realizing that maybe you needed to wear underwear after all?"

"No, not that." She looked down towards my cleavage. "I really need to cool down, is all. You're creating these vivid pictures in my head, and I feel like what I'm thinking about pales in comparison." Her hand moved along the side of my stomach. "There was a reason I brought you here other than a quiet place."

I blanched, feeling bad that I was overtaking her after giving her so much to grieve over through the night. "I'm sorry, Ror. I guess I got a little carried away."

"It's all right." She smiled shyly, and broke from me, moving towards the center of the room. "I'm so tense right now." She slipped off her shoes, moving towards the entertainment center on the other side of the room.

What is she doing? I was trying to figure out exactly what was going through her mind, and the reasoning for why we were in the dance studio. I know this is where her flirtation with Tristan flamed out, but I was focused more on the play at that time than her. I couldn't figure out the significance of why we were here exactly.

She bent down to grab the remote controlling everything, and turned on the system. She turned around to face me.

"Do you remember the cable channel that standards are on? I don't usually tune to those music channels."

I thought to my own cable system. "I think it's 836. Why?" She tuned the cable box to that channel, and a soft tune began to play over the speakers pointed down from the rafters.

"Because," she walked towards me. "I still owe you a dance for this evening." I watched her stride confidently my way, and felt a lump in my throat forming.

"A dance?" I was numb, not thinking at all about dancing. "But we weren't going to dance at the Formal."

"So?" Her eyes lit up as she brought herself closer to me. "I was planning to myself, in some way tonight. How could I resist sharing another dance with you?" Man, she was trying to flatter me with such compliments, buttering me up. I tried to shift away from her.

"Rory, it's all right, honestly. I don't have to dance with you..." I felt cornered, and very turned on.

"Lose the shoes, Par-Bear." I began to moving closer. She was bringing me out of the shyness I tried to maintain when she had the upper hand. "Your feet must hurt, right?"

I nodded, my heels were indeed painful. I stepped out of the shoes slowly, and the temperature of the cold wooden floor when I stepped onto it sent a shock up my spine. "They're also going to be cold though."

She slowly approached, beginning to undo the clips and barrettes holding her hair in a bun. Like I did earlier, she knew how much undoing her hair weakened me. It's just something about the setting, going from the stuffy ritualistic setting of the Formal, where we have to act and behave a certain way. There's nothing we can do in that situation, besides undress each other with our eyes and peer through the walls of sexuality set up by tradition and community.

But here, it was just us, alone. If we felt the need the music could be bluegrass or that Misdemeanor Elliot woman talking about rain or something while cursing out guys who could only last a minute at something I'm not sure of. Sex, maybe? Or was it watching soap operas?

Yeah, I wasn't dwelling on that as her eyes shone with want for me, and I took her into my arms, trying to find a rhythm with the unknown music. I was sort of wishing that Rory had been as resourceful as when she brought Eternal Flame with her, but it was spur of the moment.

"Still cold?" She looked down at me as we stepped carefully, doing a slow waltz.

I smiled towards her, her body heat and fragrance intoxicating. "Not really." To begin with we started out with uncomplicated moves, letting myself get used to the resumption of physical activity. Soon, the rhythm of the song picked up, and we became more daring.

Not so daring that we were throwing each other around, but enough to show off the purpose of each of our Formal dresses, to lure each other in. I twirled her around, out from me, my hand holding hers tightly. She twisted back towards me in a slow revolution, and back against my body. Then, she brought me into my own spin, and though it didn't come off as professional as mine, it was just as comparable. The fabric of the bottom of my dress spun up from the revolutions, showing off a little leg to her. I tried to keep my focus on her, and her attention wasn't wandering off from me at all. I then spun back towards her, as she guided me perfectly into my arms, my back against her front. The fabric of her dress was so flattering against her breasts, displaying her cleavage in a way suggestive of a long ice cream dish from her pale skin.

I was amazed with her footwork, despite a month having passed since the marathon. I still remember that I ditched my shoes towards the end, but she didn't at all, going on and on in them. But watching her own feet bare against the smooth hardwood of the former rail depot, I could see she wasn't forgetting those steps at all.

"You know, I really did want to dance, show you off." I continued to be under her spell as the beat picked up. "When I danced with Dean, I could never be in any way daring, or blatant. I even tried pushing myself against him once during a Stars Hollow dance, and he pushed me away, as if my trying to feel him against me was wrong." More spinning, quick steps, close blatant touches moving lower and lower as the song went on. "My first thought when I saw you was that you looked so beautiful and graceful. That finally, you know that your mother has no business telling you how to look, and you are sexual on your own." I felt so flattered as she went on and on, describing how the bright satin green brought out my eyes, and the sheen of my hair further. "All that jealousy building built in me as you danced with Jamie, keeping him arms length from you. Yet I knew that you could be doing so much more in this dress.

"I wanted to watch you do what you did last month here, in that halter dress. You were so beautiful in it, your skin looking perfect within it, your long legs distracting me often." Another twirl from my end. "By the end of the marathon, I knew that I wanted you even more than anyone else. You were so beautiful and confident, drawn out, having such a good time. We were both competitive, and it was such a turn-on. To see you competitive, whether it be dancing...like this..." She pressed herself close to me as the song's bridge ended. "Or you're on that stage, hunched over, not even paying one mind to that index card sitting in front of you, speaking into that mike. It's suggestive, full of innuendo, how you work your mouth to speak, shout, cry out to make your points. It's so wrong, but like I said earlier, I get off on you being aggressive, fighting for a victory. I picture the way the microphone vibrates as you speak into it, thinking of those tremors against me."

I began to tighten up, like I had earlier, but which dissipated as I brought the focus towards Rory frigging herself from my words. My legs, rubbing against each other, felt slick, wet between. The sinful slit in my dress made me feel so exposed, showing off my right leg up to almost mid-thigh. I continued to dance with her, feeling so wound up, turned on. Rory's hand, pressed provocatively against the curve of my ass, her eyes lowered, knowing now that I never wore underwear during social events. God, if we ever bumped into each other at a party Emily threw it would be a hard night to get through!

I love her voice when it gets so suggestive and deep. Gone was her usual small-town squeak, the sense of whimsy and mischief she had in common with her mother. Instead, it was even and targeted, the way she speaks in desperation if some smug ass just tried to make a point they thought she wouldn't top.

There began to be an overriding sense that this was just some kind of foreplay...

"I can sense there's a change between us." I could no longer hear the music, which was fading into the background. "You looked so let down tonight, and my conscience nagged at me that I was bitchy in my reaction. And I was, so much so. You could've gotten revenge by getting dirty with Jamie on the floor tonight, but you kept him away. Like you wanted me to cut in and show everyone how it's done." My breath became shallow as she read my mind. All night, I had been anticipating her bringing me under control, deciding all the sudden to fuck her book, slam it down on the chair, and bring me into a close dance as Jamie watched us, stunned and frozen in place while Rory had her wicked way with me.

Her hand was moving lower...

"You can't resist me, baby girl; I see it in your eyes." To be reminded of the 78 days separating our births through her new nickname for me, it made me feel even more wrong for being just that much younger than her. That my brain might top hers, but physically, she has a few more days of experience than I do. "I bet when you drive off at night from my house, you just feel so hot, getting to reduce me from quick and witty to hot and all wound up. You love to be so blatant, caressing my legs, leaving me notes within my margins, giving me phone messages that remind me how much you care for me. I've been astonished at how you prove you enjoy being my girlfriend. It's so sweet and unexpected, beyond how I ever thought things would be between us."

Lower again...I was gritting my teeth. Another whirl around the center of the room. "I remember how smug and righteous you were the first time we met, trying to prove you wouldn't let anyone get to you, including me. You closed yourself off, scared of being hurt, or taking a risk that didn't fit The Plan. Of how you would use space to keep us apart, be it at Chilton or Harvard, and that until I proved myself, I would never be an equal to you. After a while, it got to me, and I began to prove myself. But looking at you each time Tristan mucked things up, I hated it. Hated seeing you leave me because of something so stupid, with someone I wouldn't ever see as more than a nuisance."

Building up even more, I felt with each step the friction dissipating, replaced with a slickness. My throat tightened as she speeded the steps and moves, faster and faster. Her cadence remained straight all through, her speech still strong-willed. "But I saw through that hurt. You might think until the moment we first kissed I saw you as the Queen B, never to be taken. You would never fall victim to anyone, nor would you surrender anything to me." She moved her mouth closer to mine as I took her in, the strong chronology defining what our relationship is. "I just saw you though, a little girl lost, knowing what you wanted in everything except your heart. I hated seeing you hurt, and that you would live with that hurt, it made me see you as more than just a bitter classmate, or someone cannot handle pain well."

Her hand came around my backside, moving against the top of my thigh. Closer...closer....

"I could just stand here all night just looking at you," she said, her voice deep with want. Soon we were slowing down, and she moved her free arm up to brace me. "Looking into those beautiful eyes, finding myself enchanted with you. You are indelible, and I can't not think about you anymore." My breath quickened as her hand slid down the material, and she brought me into a dip.

"You're so beautiful to me, and all I can think right now is that..." she wandered off, letting me fall against her hand along my back, while her right hand slid beneath the daring slit. She pushed up the material as she brought it higher along my thigh. A breeze went up through the dress, and suddenly I felt exposed. I closed my eyes, feeling a straining cry involuntarily emit from my throat. Surely this wasn't the innocent girl I thought would leave Chilton in less than three weeks after her arrival.

Such a tease...such hands...sliding up towards my center, the slit pushed up so high there was no hiding the red ache between my legs any longer. I was losing my mind, I was sure, as she brought her mouth to mine...

"I need you to get a blanket."

I couldn't have heard that. No...she was beginning to pull away, what was happening? My mind was in a panic.

"A...a blanket?" Maybe she sensed something in me, the panic, and it projected.

"There's some in the emergency locker in the supply room." Her voice was returning to normal as the music faded out. "I did say I could stand here looking at you, but I want to relax a little. We have time. I'm going to grab a few mats for us to lay down on." She broke apart from me, and I thought I could tell that there was a little bit of revenge thrown in from my car play from earlier. I was stunned, trying to regain my bearings as I realized that the music and the dance had an intoxicating effect on the both of us.

Yet, I did shudder for a moment. Not at the insinuation that she wanted me to relax, but something else that I had to do for my own sanity.

"Uhh, umm...do you mind if I grab two blankets?" I asked, feeling a bit freaked. "I don't want to insult any of your fellow townspeople, but I do have a bit of mysophobia, a fear of some germs. Even if they're dressed, I just feel odd, you know?" Why I was so unfocused, I didn't know, but I felt like a freak in that one moment. I'm not extreme to the point of washing my hands raw or anything, but beyond the privacy concerns I have in public showers, I also tread lightly because of how icky locker rooms are.

Yet, Rory understood, which surprised me. She looked towards me and smiled, completely open to trying to make the situation as calming and centered as she could make it for me.

"If you want to, we can lay on our jackets too," she responded. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable." She laughed a little. "It's OK, go on."

"Um, thanks," I said, relieved that I could keep clean. I really felt as if I couldn't insult the town anymore and tried to make sure I didn't, even through something as little as contact with a gym mat. I breathed out calmly and proceeded to the storage room as Rory made her way over to the pile of mats on the other side of the room.

Still, I was a bit unsettled. Thinking about what else went on all through the night with the exception of the incident in the town car, I thought we had blown any chance at intimacy. You cried when she brought you down, I reminded myself internally, even without any fault on my end. I didn't stop a thing, so I thought to myself that I deserved such punishment. I had refused to listen to my own advice to discount my mother, and I was paying for it now, with Rory stopping me before things got hot.

Opening the old surplus locker, I found a some pastel-colored wool blankets, meant for a king sized bed, thinking about how tired I was indeed. It had been a long night, first with the two hours with Jamie, then the hour and a half settling things down with Gilmore and eating.

Maybe I did need to settle my hormones a bit. After all, three weeks before, I was content with the occasional touch and fondle of her, and the same on her end. A few days after, a call triggered a rush to be erotic, and I felt myself losing control of my inhibitions. Mind you, I didn't take a sex before marriage pledge, mainly because I thought I wouldn't even have sex before I was married in any way. In the months after Tristan left and before Washington I had enjoyed being a single woman and not giving a damn about anyone's pleasure but mine. It was something I didn't need to deal with. I mean doing 'it', my mother makes it out to be this big thing with fireworks and multiple orgasms and the like, and my first time must be like that, period. My father comes more from the school of denial and went with the idea that sex is fun, but full of a minefield of consequences.

Sometimes it seems much easier when your only sexual partners have been the vibe stick in my dresser drawer, or my hands. I knew myself, and in reality I've had a fear of someone else touching me. I made progress on that through the weekend during the sleepover with her rubbing against me and her oral exploration. But the first time, I was still covered by underwear and still had the cami-bra on. I was covered when I took her virginity.

I looked down at myself, examining my body, feeling so weird about her seeing me fully nude. It always comes down to that fear for me, that she'll think me unworthy. I am fine with my own nudeness, but scared with someone else. There's only six others who have seen me fully nude outside of a locker room, including my parents, Fran, my pediatrician, and Tristan, who did so when he was five and we were playing doctor.

Louise has, but I'm uncomfortable sharing exactly why. It was a friends thing, and it wasn't in ill will, that's all I can say.

I closed my eyes, remembering my acceptance of Rory's 'crooked' lips (which are not). I don't know if I could deal with her judging me in that way.

No, I am not nervous, I told myself, shaky confidence breaking the statement a bit. You do love her, and if she wants you, it's because she loves you too. She's over the hurt of earlier, and I should not be scared to share anything with her, even if my body isn't much to look at. I took the blanket into my hands, sucking up all of the fears I held.

After all, we were just going to relax and look into each other's eyes, right?

However, I had no idea of how this dance studio figured in Rory's past as I left the storage room, blankets in my hands. It was a hidden part of Hollow history she hid behind for so long as I walked out to watch her, slowly moving towards me.

In the time she had left, she had used the washroom and washed her makeup off, leaving only her true natural beauty. The uniform paleness of her face was gone, replaced with freckles on her cheeks, messy hair, and a casualness to her steps that was unlike her stiff formal stride of earlier.

The only time I saw her this way was six days ago, when she woke up...

She was walking towards me, and ready to share once again.

"Par, there is a reason I asked you here," she started, looking at me straight on. "The last few times I've been in this hall outside of town stuff, it hasn't gone well. Over on that table over there, for instance." She pointed towards the 'platform' she laid on during the play rehearsals. "We had to deal with an inattentive Louise, and an ambivalent Tristan only bent on playing on your last nerve, along with my boyfriend. I didn't want him here, nor you, because I knew there was trouble ahead. Yet, we went on, and thankfully we had a miracle where everything fell into place."

She pushed four light yoga mats together, layering them 2x2 on top of each other with our jackets to the side so I could layer a top blanket on top of the mates. "But we're not here to talk about that." Looking down at the mats, she brought up the worst day of her life as I spread out the blue blanket to layer over the mats. I was glad to see them covered up as Rory then put the jackets on top to complete the safety net I needed for our impromptu bed.

"The night of the Formal in our sophomore year, Dean and I ended up here, talking and flirting. I thought then he was truly the love of my life, that he would be mine forever. When we came into here to browse the room and talk about nothing and everything, I was under a spell with him. He was influencing me, and even after the fight with Tristan, I still wanted him. Dean...he was the one for me, and the town at first hated him, but eventually found him perfect for me."

She continued down, as I lay down on the mat, my eyes feeling heavy. "At first, things were relaxed, wonderful. We were enchanted and lost into each other's eyes. And that night, I was curious."

"Curious?"

"I had been finally glad to have some kind of relationship with someone who didn't immediately find me to be a pariah, or untouchable. Dean had no idea of my past in Stars Hollow, about how much school sucked for me. He was a clean slate, and didn't give a damn about the gossip at Hollow High. I was beginning to fall for him, and in turn, I was curious." She lowered her eyebrows. "I had been having dreams of him. Not innocent dreams. But sexual dreams of the both of us. We were together, and we had sex. Sometimes, the dream would end in a nightmare, but usually it was a happy moment."

"Why tell me this?" I asked, inquiring as to why I was being told all of this.

"Because...I need to be open and honest with you," she said, softly. "I don't want to do anything more with you until I get this out. To scare off the demons of old, and let you in fully." She unfurled the blanket next to me, and laid next to me, as we looked at each other face to face. "What I'm about to say, there is no one who knows about this. Nobody at all. Not Lane, not my mother, not even Dean himself, at least how I felt after. If I ever said a word about this to anyone, I don't know how anyone would react, beyond rage and hate for what I did, along with a sense I'm making things up to justify why I eventually broke up with him."

"And if I get mad?" Suddenly, I was finding myself fearful that what she was admitting would change my worldview of her in a whirlwind.

"Then you get mad." She paused for a few seconds, and gathered herself to let everything out. "But if I don't say anything, you'll find out from Dean whenever we come out, and his spin won't be the truth."

"It isn't..." My mind spun into negative things. "He didn't, did he?"

She shook her head. "It's more like what I did." With that, she told me what happened that night, describing it as a three hour period before Ms. LaCosta and the Morning Yoga group found them. "We were just two teenagers, finding ourselves enchanted with each other. I had gone into the date thinking that he wanted something for me, and the nights before after I asked him out, I prepared myself for the possibility of Dean asking me...asking if we could be more than steady."

"So, what do you mean?" Her eyes told me the guilt she had.

"I was ready," she stated, without ceremony. "We had been seeing each other officially for a couple of months, and unofficially a couple weeks before then. I felt as if I could handle things, that I could want him that way, and I felt I couldn't get pregnant at that time." She held up her hand to stop my objection. "Yes, I know how I came into this world, but I know my ovulation. It couldn't happen at that time and I was going to do all I could not to.

"The entire night, I was nervous, thinking about how to tell him that I was ready." I was stunned that I was the only one to know this. "No one knew, not even him." A breath. "Remember when we went to Providence during the field trip to see that play, the week before?"

I nodded, the field trip foggy beyond the destination. "Yes."

"When we made the lunch stop in Cranston, I ran across the street to that mini mart under the assumption of picking up a ProJo. Really, I was hoping to find a condom machine. Thankfully, there was one, and it went in the disk pocket of my backpack." It was a surprising revelation from her that she wanted him that way so early. She went on further.

"When we arrived here, after a bit, we fell asleep for an hour. I had the condom in my bag, within my wallet, beneath my Social Security card." She struggled a bit to get through. "When I woke up, I was staring at this handsome boy, looking so peaceful, probably thinking about me next to him. It was dark in the room, 2am in the morning. And the closeness we shared, it was so overwhelming."

The details to come were shocking, but in the manner of something unexpected. "We had been touching each other, doing silly things that kind of stuff. And all I could think about since the moment I laid down with him was how it felt to...how it was to touch...touch...it." She was ashamed. "Everything in my mind, and I was thinking about his cock. How it would feel, if it was really as wonderful as advertised. How I eyed it up blatantly when he wasn't noticing, through his pants. I had sexual thoughts about him, wanting to feel him inside. I flushed each time I thought about it, but I was turned on by it.

"But I had issues in the past about masturbation, wanting Dean in that way and getting myself off. I was so ashamed, dirty thinking that way. With my fingers, thinking about him, of him inside of me. My fingers, and an old curved highlighter, the only things I used. I was just then getting over my fears, and the morning before the dance, I had an erotic, bed-soaking dream about him. I wanted to be with him that way, that night."

She went on to describe what she did as she woke him up, with a deep kiss, pushing herself against him. He woke up, surprised that Rory was acting this way, but joining in on it anyways. Describing the process of sharing a mat with him, how hot she felt around him, and wanting for him.

"Eventually, I was cavalier, telling him how much I wanted him. He voiced out nervous concerns about my mother, but I assured him they'd never get back to her. I told him how much I wanted to feel him, that I wanted him so bad." She felt odd admitting that. "I told him that I was ready for him, no matter what everything in my being was telling me, that I would regret it eventually.

She shared more details, about how she undid his pants, exposing his briefs and so on, until with his permission, she began to explore him. At first she thought it big, but now she knows that his endowment was average sized. She stroked it through his underwear, being slow and teasing, like she read about. Rory watched his facial reactions, and at first was just intending to get him hard enough.

"But I was intimidated suddenly. I felt like I didn't want that in me, at least not without practice. I felt sudden pressure upon myself to deliver, and that maybe I'd be lousy. But he surprised me, telling me it was all right if I could just do a hand job."

I felt flushed as she went on and on, describing her slow stroking of him, until eventually she felt comfortable and slowly eased him out until she began to stroke him with the condom (good thinking). She described him as so pent up with frustration and wanting, and that she continued to go slow, until eventually, he came, breathing in and out heavily.

"It looked like he was quite satisfied, and he came well. I thought I had satisfied him and given him something he dreamed about..."

I was expecting her to say something positive.

She frowned at that moment. "When I asked him how it felt? He didn't say a word. Nothing, at all." She frowned. "He kissed me, smiled, disposed of the condom discreetly and went back to sleep. That's it."

"Oh."

"But that's not it." I then became privy to information never shared by her before. I could see that she was sad, frustrated with her confession, and I had no idea what she'd admit.

"I stayed awake next to him, just looking at him, watching him sleep, falling in love with him with each passing minute. Until..." She choked back a tear. "Until he began to have a dream. An erotic dream, right next to me." I couldn't understand why she would be crying about that. It seemed like a good thing, like my sleep talking during the summer. Dreams are good, right?

It was then I found out why she could never truly trust Dean to be her first, even as her mind and the entirety of the Hollow unofficially proclaimed Dean to be her soulmate.

"Par..." she grasped my hand. "In all of my time here, you are the only one I know of who has actually thought of me sexually and erotically, and wanted to push those feelings upon me. I know he dreamed of me that way, he just didn't want me to share in them."

I felt stunned in place as she brought the conversation to a head. "He never got over Beth."

"Beth?" Who was she?

"His girlfriend in Chicago." She felt pain go through her, saying the name. "He never really thought of me sexually in reality. Next to me, he redreamed my handjob as if Beth did it."

I thought she was just thinking oddly; there was no way that Dean would be with this beautiful girl and ever want to think of anyone else. "Rory, I'm sure he didn't mean it--"

She interrupted me, quickly clearing things up. "He said in his sleep, 'God, you stroke me better than that girl in Connecticut! Beth...oh Beth...Bethy!'" She was crying. "And he went on, saying he was in love with her, still."

"What does this have to do with me?" I asked, pulling her close as the silk lining of my jacket felt luxurious against the both of us.

"Because," she gathered herself up for the full catharsis. "I grew to find you attractive, mainly because Dean has been hiding things from me. I was clueless for all of these months. After he said that in his sleep I assumed that he was just thinking of us in a kinky sense, but as time wore on, it was getting to the point where he thought of himself petulantly being pulled out of Chicago from the love of his life and having to find someone new that was unlike his first love." She snarled her lip, as I found myself dealing with something no one should ever deal with.

"He might have loved me here," she said, "but never really ended it with Beth."

"What?" I was...I didn't know how I felt, beyond numb. "How do you know?"

"Because, I borrowed his computer when school started a couple of months ago to Google something when I was over at his house, and an IM window popped up with 'Hey there D-boy ;)'. The guy's an idiot and doesn't know how to work anything to keep secrets." Everything I despised about him began to multiply quadfold. "He has a hidden Yahoo account he uses to talk to someone who just happens to look like a teenage girl in Winnetka. They talked daily, and according to the transcripts I could find on the PC while he was out of the room, they were doing more than that. The chats were extremely specific to saying that I wasn't in the picture at all, beyond being 'that girl who likes me'." She continued on. "There was cybersex in them. Something I tried myself when I was in the mood, but could never do with him because he said 'POS' like it was his fucking catchphrase; mind you his house's computer room is in a locked office! It was specific and dirty, and I just...oh my God, I found out about all of this days after I came back. I had tried to do something with him when he came back, but he refused me, and it was then that I knew why.

Her jaw clenched as she described the secrets Dean was hiding. "Apparently, him and Beth renewed things the moment he got back to Illinois, and the reason why his postcards to Washington always sucked and he didn't share much was that him and Beth were too busy this summer in bed with each other when he went back there to see his grandparents!" She was beyond pissed, as I took her into my arms. "He's always pushed off every sexual advance since I gave him that handjob, because apparently, I suck at bring a girlfriend! He said he loved me and everything, but just not enough to get him off." She hyperventilated, beyond tearful. "I read through that month of chats, about how he said he missed 'her loving'. I didn't know before then that I was with a cheater, and...and...and..."

"Before you found out, you sacrificed your feelings for me so that you could love him." I was matter-of-fact, very sympathetic to her. "You thought the dream was a slip of the tongue and lived with his lack of anything sexual involving him, but it was because..." I was just stunned. "He never really broke it off with Beth."

"Not for a moment." Rory hated herself for not seeing the signs. "I didn't want to confront him because I hate conflict, so after that, I decided to hell with what he wanted, I wanted you. I gave him the cold shoulder after I found out and only allowed him to kiss me, that's it. It make my skin crawl each time he touched me or said he loved me. I looked for any excuse to ditch him, and thankfully Dwight's sprinklers came into play, so I was able to break it off without telling him I knew he was a cheating bastard. I laid into him with everything I had, but I didn't say one word about knowing he was fucking Beth, or that he still talked to her. I just told him what was also a truth; I couldn't stand him and I was sick of him treating me as if I'm fragile. I mean, in what world does it make sense that you're cheating on a girlfriend really there for you and willing to love you, but you're getting your rocks off through some chick typing on a keyboard or doing God knows what on a webcam? I didn't check that, because c'mon, I don't need to see that!"

"Rory...Rory..." I slid my arms around her. "Settle...please, settle down."

"Am I really that repulsive?" She was in a panic. "I went through a few days where I considered not eating because I didn't look like Beth, slim and skinny Beth! I thought there was something wrong with me, that there was a reason he hated to see me sexy, and that I was abnormal. I always thought I was loyal and cute, and that I'm definitely a get. I thought when he gave me the bracelet for my 16th, Beth was just a girl in his past, never to be thought of again."

I couldn't believe that she ever thought about herself that way. All of this insecurity bubbling up within her, the betrayal that was put over her for years. I always thought the guy was a jerk for being so controlling, but this topped all. He messed with the heart of the woman I love, kept her in the dark.

"I screwed up...I wasted two years of my life on a first love who never loved me! He said he did, but I was just a stand-in until he could get back to the Windy City. He said he's going back to the Chicago area to attend the College of DuPage as a jump to get a hockey scholarship at a WCHA school, whatever that is, but I don't believe that for a moment. He's...he just gets by, and..."

"Shh, hon, don't get wound up on him, please, don't do it." I shifted over, massaging Rory's scalp as I brought her close to me. "Why did you never say anything?"

"Who would believe me?" She was crying, and it was then I could see the exact reason she reacted so violently to even the inkling of me with another man. No wonder she cut into you deep, I thought to myself. The way he treated her within that relationship, there's so much hidden hurt within her.

I wanted to understand her, and I began to see her insecurities and drive as more than just avoiding her mother's errors (I can't use the 'm' word anymore, because without it, we wouldn't be here). She has so many complex problems that I don't know about yet, and though when she came into Chilton I only saw accomplishments and GPA numbers, there's much more than that with her.

"I would have believed you," I said. "People in this town, beyond a few, are obviously stupid if they thought you two were ever right for each other." I rubbed at her neck, playing with the silver necklace adorning it. "I always got this sense that he was possessive over you, and one day I'd either see you fall apart before my eyes or just resign and give up under his pressure."

"Par, you couldn't have known. It was demeaning to be with him. The day I got some Harvard materials in the mail, I wanted to go over them at my own pace, slowly, just enjoy the crimson printing and class descriptions. But I had to push it off a couple of days because he wanted me to come over and bond with him and his father over an American Chopper marathon." She slowly begins to calm down. "I mean, modifying motorcycles? I had to watch this for four hours and to watch these guys bicker on TV about brakes and tires and throttles, it's like who cares? And all through, they thought they were teaching me that motorcycles are cool. They aren't!"

"Not that kind at least," I mused. "I respect Harleys much more myself. But I'm more about speed bikes."

"Huh?" She looked at me, confused. "You're into motorcycles?"

A crooked smile from me, as I was glad for a distraction. "You haven't lived until you've taken a ten mile stretch of Sunrise Highway on the Island at 115 mph, the only thing keeping you alive being mere inches of rubber, a circumference of fabric, foam and hard plastic around your head, a padded suit, and a metal guardrail. I hate the 'manly' type of motorcycle, the one where it's just this huge mess of metal and chrome in front of you. I prefer speed and something that says 'stay out of my way'."

"Why, Paris Gellar, I do believe you're full of surprises," she teased. "All this time I was stuck watching that, and I could've been riding with you?"

I disclaimed a wee bit. "Actually, you'd be my first ever passenger, I've always rode alone on my Ducati. But if you want to, and your mother trusts me, I'll take you on a ride sometime in the spring or the summer."

"I would enjoy that." We stayed close for a few moments, my hands still in her hair, mine against her back. "What didn't I see in you before Tristan left? All of this time, we had all these things in common, and uncommon things I'm interested in, and we kept apart. And for what? For your mother to set you up with duds, while I stayed with a guy still pining for his first girlfriend." She hesitated, closing her eyes and trying to come up with something. "Men are just trainwrecks."

"Not all men," I corrected. "My father is wonderful. Luke is great, if a bit surly. And Brad, Madeline describes him as a true gentleman." I smiled at her, trying to cheer her up. "I just think it's the way things went, that we were not meant to have the best luck with guys."

"I know, but there was Jess. I think if I had found there were sparks there I might have gone for it, but when we kissed, it just felt as if I was Marcia and kissing Greg." She laughed nervously. "It was a good fairy tale moment, he swept me and it was sudden. But it was just too friendly, and we're on two different planes."

"It was the same with Jamie outside of the restaurant in Washington; I just didn't feel a thing. I was prepared to, but there wasn't that sense of building tension and want that we had when we first kissed. We had an entire summer to build up, and then two months after, and it came to a head on the couch, when everything was just right, I looked into your eyes, and saw that there was something there." She bit on her lip, as our eyes met together. "The countdown to the inevitable, that we shared something beyond topping the classes. I remember that moment right now." She was breathing, in and out, deeply, the moment flashing around us, along with the notebook list. How I fell for her slowly, and closed the distance with her. That wobbly feeling of excitement of jumping into the unknown came back to me.

There was still an open matter that we had to deal with before the night ended, that white elephant with the floppy hair that kept us apart for so long.

"Are you sure you're not mad at me, about Dean?" Shyly, she pushed herself away from me. "You have every right to, considering how I treated you tonight." I hated that she was doing this to herself, beating herself up over something that never should have happened.

I sighed, and watched as she got up, to sort out a pain in her back. I then rose up, sitting with my knees across. "I'm not going to dwell on your past. You've justified to me that he never deserved you, but we're together. That's the important thing for me." I slid my fingers through my hair to smooth it out. "How many ways do I have to say it? You have nothing to apologize for."

"How can you be so calm about this?" she argued. "You're taking everything well. It's odd, and I expected a fight." I asked her why. "Because, that's how you always dealt with problems in the past, we talked them out and threw words at each other until we both left in angry huffs."

"Ror, that might work when you're trying to squeeze your story onto page two, but when we're together like this, we need to just look at situations one at a time. What happened between us, it could be dealt with rationally, so I went about making you see things in a sane manner. I wasn't going to argue with you because the only thing that does is further the rift." I looked up towards her, suddenly having a carnal feeling rising within me, being able to look down her dress. "If I had to, I would've pulled another 4:30 visit to make you see that I didn't want Jamie." I looked up at her. "I only want you."

"Paris." She was taken aback as I focused in towards her, making it clear I wasn't going to let her go. "You...you would've come back here?"

"Anything for you. If I had to, I'd have sent you a multitude of flowers asking for your forgiveness tomorrow." I lay back down on the mat, looking up towards her. "The only problem with the whole sneaking into your room plan now though, is that I can't stop thinking about undressing you in bed."

With a chuckle, Rory let herself stretch out, the hem of her dress rise up, giving me a view of her legs up to mid-thigh. "You don't know what that thought's doing to me right now." She was flushing. "It's enough that I got off to your voice in the town car earlier, but somehow I still don't feel sated enough." Slowly, she began to re-approach. "Thanks to you, missy, I'm down to panties and tank tops in bed, and the top's off by my first bathroom break of the night!"

I felt overwhelmed by that image. "Have you been dreaming about me in your sleep?"

"Maybe," she spoke, her voice tinny. "Can I plead the Fifth on sharing that information?"

"Absolutely." I decided to rile her up a little more. "However, I will waive my own and tell you that my laundry costs are rising."

"Oh, I'm sure they are, hon." She spun around to give me a teasing twirl. "I may not make it to laundry day myself."

"You are gonna kill me, I swear." I shook my head at the idea of her fully bare beneath her uniform.

Little did she know, that all through baring her soul about Dean, in the back of my mind I had been preparing to give the mats below us a true blessing. Our legs had rubbed together all through her talk, and the more I thought about it each moment, I felt my wanting to hold back from her slip away. I had given her a true way to remember Monday morning next to the pond. But I had continually dwelled on knowing that I was ready for her myself, fully. After admitting my love, it was only a matter of time. The only thing was I needed to find the perfect moment to do so.

But as I lay down on that mat and the blanket and jackets, all the nervousness seemed to melt away for me, about being fully intimate. Her hands had wandered me throughout, and as we grew closer the fear I felt at her seeing me nude was disappearing. I felt easy-going and comfortable, less nervous than I did a month ago where just the very insinuation by her of taking off my clothes, even something as little as a dress knot, scared me.

I looked into her eyes, trying to muster if this was the moment I was looking for. Rory had just admitted her experience with Dean was worse than I feared, and to take advantage of that in a contest sort of way, to assert sexual control over her, made me feel uncomfortable.

"Paris?" She mustered a sensual whisper in her voice, and as she moved towards the center of the room, I could sense she was nervous. About what exactly, was unknown to me. I asked her what was wrong.

"How did you hold back on doing anything in the towncar while I was stroking myself from your voice?" Slowly, she walked back towards me, her feet softly padding the hardwood floor. "That must've taken some tenacity."

"I--I was fine," I said, watching her approach. "I was too stunned to have any reaction beyond babbling about self-loving lingo to hasten you on further."

Rory stopped, letting her feet rest evenly. "You looked like you wanted to do something though. Somehow I think I stole your thunder." Smiling, her right hand moved towards the left strap of her dress. "You were so apologetic about everything, but behind it, I could tell that my being stubborn was doing something to you. You kept staring at me from the floor, as I read my book. And then trying to get out of the ride, you were just waiting for me to realize my phone was missing."

She took the thin ribbon of silk between her fingers. "I know you, baby girl. Inside you were a panicked mess of nerves, angry at me for being so obstinate that you and Jamie were together, even if there was nothing going on. I could sense that stare a few times, those deep browns of yours fired up, making it clear that if I moved from that spot, I would not leave the floor alive." She pushed the strap from her shoulder, slowly, teasing me with the bareness of her freckled shoulders. "From the moment you woke up this morning, I know you had one goal in mind." Another slow step, as she blatantly bent down to work her way out of the strap. "We talked a few hours before the dance, teasing each other about what we would wear. I was willing to share in full detail. However, you wouldn't, because you wanted me to be surprised. Which meant I had a very boring shower, and it left me in knots, trying to figure out what I'd see you in."

She ran her tongue along her mouth, and tossed her hair back, a mess out of her intended hairstyle. "All through the ride to the venue, I kept thinking about what the mystery was as to why you were hiding your dress from me. I thought you'd go conservative just to get me all hot and bothered, something tight that hugged your curves, but didn't show anything off. Boy, was I wrong, and I'm glad I failed that test." Her other hand moved towards her other strap. She eyed me up, her eyes trained blatantly on my generous breasts. "While I was on that sideline, watching you dance, I was so pissed I didn't get to be right next to you. Still, even though I swore that I'd never speak to you again, I still stared, your legs looking delicious in my view. Watching the curve of your arch as you spun on your heel, the classic symmetry of your body, and how I was able to sneak a look at your tattoo, knowing I was the only one who knew the meaning. I wanted to be on that floor, doing a risky tango with you."

Down came the other strap, in such a sensual and erotic way, her eyes steady against the leg bared by the slit. "I just wanted to walk on that floor and show everyone exactly why we won the dance marathon last month. Sitting there, stewing, wishing I could be at your side. My stomach still felt dizzy though, just watching you dance, and I knew more about you than Jamie could ever bear to take in."

The bodice of the dress was only hanging on against her bust from gravity and friction. I sucked my stomach in, anticipating the fall of the article. I took in her words, softly spoken, the bitterness of earlier gone. "And through all of that, I could've been reading my book, but instead I was thinking about Monday morning, how everything felt between us as we flirted throughout the morning, until it all came to a head in the back of your car." Smiling down towards me, she held up the dress as she used her other hand to create a teasing path towards the back zipper. "I've thought about it all week, how wonderful that you made me feel, seducing me, making me feel wanted and beautiful. When I was at Hollow High, I was none of those things to anyone. I was either seen as a She's All That-type nerd meant to be the prize of a dare, or else the date of someone willing to settle. I never felt prized, special. I was treated like crap, and the entire experience almost turned me off to guys. If not for Dean, I would still be single."

She reached the zipper, as I began to feel myself slicken up, so turned on by her voice myself. "It was the same when I started Chilton, even with Tristan thinking I was the hottest thing in saddle shoes. I actually had dreams of him and I together, but I just felt...I don't know. It didn't fit, the two of us. He got me mad and I didn't like him, but to have him as a sex partner, it wouldn't be the worst thing. I mean in the two months before he went Duncan and Bowman's way I admit I had sexual dreams of him. But it never felt right, because you were there first, and I was honing in on your turf. When you cut me off, it did hurt that you believed the gossip about the tickets. I was glad we fixed things though, and after he left, I began to feel more comfortable, able to express myself. I no longer had to think about any kind of distraction, beyond you at Chilton.

"Except when he was finally gone..." I heard the zip begin. "I was finally able to let myself relax around you. I noticed you more, beyond being a taskmaster and someone looking to put her stamp on everything."

She began to fall down to her knees, in front of me, releasing her hand from her dress so she could continue the sweet torture. I was getting so hot, turned on, the entire night beginning to come to a head. Her curled hair cascaded down from her beautifully bared shoulders. "It began during the performance, and went further from there. My eyes would wander from the material in class, towards you, so stiff and regal in your uniform. Yet, you knew how to tease me. Those long socks, for instance." She scanned down my legs. "They drew me towards your beautiful legs, a wish to see them bared. I would have these dreams of working them off, and the day you came to school only wearing the short kind, I knew I was in big trouble, because I couldn't help but be distracted." She continued to ease the zipper down, her breasts slowly inching out from the bodice.

Truly, I was caught in an odd position, with Rory seducing me. My brain was addled, worn out from everything that led us into the empty depot. To know that she had tried something in that room before and was deemed a failure, she didn't have to share anything involving what I thought would be a guy's dream come true. Recalling, I put myself back into the dream situation she described over the phone, of us here. The irony of living out that fantasy wasn't lost on me at all.

She lifted the hem of her dress above her knees and pushed towards me, those cerulean eyes of hers clear as turquoise. I felt them weigh down on me as she continued to talk and show off what had to be the most understated burlesque performance that can be mustered.

"I have no idea why the simple things you do attract me. When we were doing the layout for the last paper of the year and graduation extra, it was a hot and miserable day, leaving you in the newsroom with rolled up sleeves and an undone tie around your neck." I closed my eyes, remembering the setting, the hot newsroom lacking air conditioning easily remembered. "Your prescription anti-perspirant failed, and you sweated, no matter how many bottles of Poland Spring you drank.

"I looked at you when I could, hot myself but cool because I decided to work in my undershirt, dress code be damned. Biting down on the cap end of a pen as I scribbled changes and typed in tags for the online edition to organize it, you sat there, worn out, hair thrown in a damp ponytail, dunked in water from the darkroom sink in a desperate attempt to keep cool." I could sense her heat moving towards me. "A half-hour later, your tie was still hanging around your neck, two buttons undone while you complained about the inane notes in a piece you wouldn't use in the extra. Your shirt untucked, bent over your desk with your glasses on and a magnifier in one hand because Farley Coles enjoyed typing his stories in 8-point legal type."

Her left hand caressed my right foot, softly. "You were doing so much for me during those afternoons, keeping me sane and collected, showing that even you were distracted by the heat."

"Rory..." I gulped, the flashes of those days coming back in the aftermath of the election win and the recognition that Rory would be at my side for the next year. My hormones were in flux, and I awaited June 11th, the day of leaving with anticipation.

"God, if you could be in my shoes through those days. All wound up and wet, frustrated. The back of the skirt sticking to your legs, your hot leather work chair definitely the worst place of all to sit. Yet there you were, working hard and proving you were the best, driving me in turn."

She moved up my body, hands drifting across my knees. "When I came towards your desk while you proofed and did layout, I saw you there, looking so beautiful despite the heat. You didn't let it get to you, and you had no care to leave for even a shower because it would kill your preparation. You wanted to finish your job even if it led to a heat stroke."

The vivid images came back, in a new light not seen that day. She described the frustration I felt during those afternoons, how I felt so uncomfortable in the newsroom that even a fan at my side didn't help, blowing warm air into my face. I thought I would never get anything done and by the second day I was ready to just go home and finish up layouts and my editorial for the Class of 2002 from the comfort of my own laptop.

There was another reason that I felt uncomfortable. Having to watch Rory in only a blue babydoll shirt with the Chilton Blue Demon logo on the front, I was distracted and extremely nervous, and I actually yelled at her a couple of times through the afternoon to put her blouse back on in at least an unbuttoned state. I thought it would help, but inevitably after fifteen minutes the blue Oxford shirt was once again draped across her chair. Coming off the election our bond had deepened further, more so as we talked more on the phone to plan our packing and such. I couldn't stop staring at her, and I would peer over my light brown horn-rimmed reading glasses, lowering them down just enough to keep my 'focus' on the material, but my eyes upon her from across the room. I kept thinking of her stripping it off. I would distract with another story and grating grammatical error, but sooner or later, my attention was back to her.

"You brushed off my help, but I was tenacious, standing above you and just enjoying the way you looked over your corrections." I felt glued to the mat, stilled by the seduction. "What drew me in more though was your scent. Dripping in sweat, your hair damp, mixed in with the spare body spray you spritzed on before the start of the paper layout. I let my nose take in your fragrance, perspiration mixing with lavender. I couldn't help but want to stay near you, because you were just that irresistible. I was pulled in your direction and couldn't leave your side."

Her hands drifted along my legs, reveling in the feel of the dress fabric. "In that moment I thought you looked so beautiful. I didn't know why, because at the time I had my feelings for you really hidden, far back. I thought you'd never be interested in much more than a grudging friendship." Rory's voice cracked, the emotions of that period of time raw. "I mean, when you had me run for VP I thought you were truly just going for the 'hot girl next to the nerd' thing to draw voters in, because I was approachable, and you were cold." I kept my mouth closed, knowing that this seduction wasn't going to be so plain by any means. "But I had time to think about everything, after the kiss with Jess, the election results, being pulled away to Washington for two months. There were all these people concerned about my well-being while I was gone, that leaving my sheltered town was taking me away from them. I was scared to leave at first because you'd be the only familiar face, and I'd have to be around you for all this time.

"I had to deal with my mom making bad Marion Berry and Lewinsky jokes, while my grandparents told me I should use the trip to find political and college connections rather than have fun. Dean, you know how he felt, and Lane had jealousy because we wouldn't have a summer. I was ready that afternoon to ask you if it would be OK to not come with, just so I could spare everyone else's feelings." Slowly, her hands slid up, and she moved her legs between mine. I kept my eyes on her, trying to avoid a blatant stare into her dress, falling off her at a slow pace. "I was going to say something at that moment I approached you for help, hopeful you'd take it well."

Then she sighed, looking down at me, so much desire in her eyes, and her cheeks warmed. "But when you turned around and asked 'Gilmore, can you get me another bottle of Poland Spring from the mini-fridge'..." A pause as her fingers slid up my arms. "I laid my eyes upon you, damp, sweaty, your fingers stained with black, blue, and red pen ink, eyes tired within your beautiful glasses and with that annoyed scowl from knowing I was the only one who could understand you. I saw the year flash before my eyes, from the moment you told me the wrong time to come into the office for the first meeting and that I was so pissed off at you, to coming into town for the Dinner and the story idea, your grade panic where we had the sleepover, along with the aborted night of celebrating when I was introduced to my father's new girlfriend. I saw it all, along with the feelings I had growing for you that I wanted to deny, throw off to the side, because Dean was it, he was the one for me."

She brought the back of her left hand up to along my neck, caressing me softly. "Looking at you in that moment that should have been your worst, tired and defeated, something sparked, made me feel winded. Just staring into your eyes, seeing that you were ready to give up and head home to finish because you were so stressed out. That was when my mind...when I thought..." Rory began to lose her train of thought, afraid to admit what she wanted to.

I took her other hand at the wrist, and circled the heel of her hand with a finger. "Come on, go ahead hon," I intoned, softly. "I'm not hurt."

Rory took a deep and calming breath, girding herself to finish out the situation. "OK, here goes." She closed her eyes, and then laid herself against me. "The thing is, as junior year drifted on, I had dreams about you. The sexual kind, of course. Before then it was all you being a terror, but February on I began to think of you sexually. I attributed it to lack of progress with Dean at first and ignored them. Well, beyond the sweaty ones where I woke up in a cold sweat. Heh." Laughing nervously, I was fully invested in what she had to say. "But as I had the dreams, more and more I looked at you. I tried to avoid what arose in me, that it was abnormal and wrong, against society, I couldn't think of you that way. You'd kill me if you ever knew and be offended." I tried to speak up, but was stopped before I could say anything. "I felt weird, and thought if I just could stay in denial, I would be able to stop feeling how I did. And if I could find an excuse to not go to Washington, I could forget all about it by the start of school."

Her face below mine, she told me what that moment did to her. "I was about to tell you I wasn't going to DC, but then, seeing you like that, I saw us together, just like this, in a situation where we were utterly and passionately inseparable. Both of us drawn together to be the sane forces in each of our lives, me with too many noses in my business, you thinking a 93 means a failure and scorn from Sharon. I stared into your eyes, and for the first time, it was clear. I could avoid what I felt and wish for what might have been..." Small tears fell from her eyes. "I could avoid these growing feelings, these thoughts that to me, you're the most beautiful woman I've ever known, that I see through the layers and know you for who you really are. I could leave you lost in the federal city all summer, your heart broken because I couldn't stand even one evening with you in the same room, much less eighty of them. I could be back here, with Dean for all the wrong reasons, or Jess because of our thread of a literate connection, while thinking if I didn't go, I would never be so kindred with you. I was ready to leave you behind, Paris. We would have never been in this room right now, much less on that dance floor."

Her hand moved to the back of my dress, locating the zipper. "I could have said no and let this all never have happened. There were 381 reasons that would have kept me in Connecticut all summer. All not mine. All of them would have not followed what my heart wanted."

I was losing my breath, Rory's fragrance overwhelming my nostrils, her words perking my ears solid. My body was completely still as the teeth on the zipper grinded down, the only sound between us. She was face to face with me, mere millimeters keeping us apart.

"But in my heart, the only reason I needed to know that Washington was right. Not for the contacts, or the learning experience, or going to all those meetings and getting to know these politicians. None of that mattered to me. Looking at you, I knew there was only one reason I needed to go. If it was slow, it was slow. If it was fast, we'd go fast."

I felt her breath against my lips, her eyes upon mine. The zip of the dress, as far as it would go. I didn't even know where I was physically anymore, beyond in her arms.

"I went for you." A bare whisper. I couldn't say a word, my mind stunned.

"Just for you, Par. My heart told me we were meant for each other, and I've never found it to guide me wrong. It's saved me from going further with Dean, from anything with Jess, to abandoning Chilton when you were at your worst or when I learned my grandparents would pay my tuition in exchange for regular meetings with them. My heart guides my decisions, and it told me I would be gravely wrong if I left you behind."

She laid a soft peck on my upper lip. "My heart told me to listen to you when I found out about Jamie. My emotions shouted it down. I should have listened to it to begin with, but I thank God for your forgiveness."

I felt her pulling the dress down from my arms, so it came down just above my breasts. The flesh where my heart was bare, exposed, and she placed her hand on it, feeling the hard thumping against my heated skin.

"It was that afternoon that led me to know that I could possibly love you, one day."

I placed my own left hand upon her chest, on her heart.

"And now, I know I do." Her other hand, rested upon my back. I felt closed in, intimate and wanting. My world at that moment was just her. My eyes watered, her beautiful words making me feel so...so...

I need not speak any further on, for Rory Gilmore's next words to me broke through my barriers, fully and without any resistance.

"Eu te amo, Paris Gellar. Com todo o meu coração, eu amo você." (I love you, Paris Gellar. With all of my heart, I love you.)

I couldn't say one word at all. Not one. If I had expected the three words, they would have been in English and said with overwhelming passion. My breath stilled, and I swear I could feel my heart suddenly stop for a couple of beats.

I had dreamt this moment in hundreds of my dreams, all ending in 'I love you' before the cruel reality of the world came back to remind me that she really didn't. Against walls, in beds, falling asleep in desk chairs and couches or in cars. The words never changed, the feeling behind them never overwhelming.

But to be told I was loved by her in the language I grew to love and treasure, the one of the woman who had raised me to believe that the horizon was limitless and to never surrender hope. All of the dreams I ever had, the moment she said it, it wasn't the reality. It was my fiction, and I was ready to accept it as it was.

She would not. The words were meant, the passion within her throat. Her translation of the words was pitch perfect. She spoke the language like I did casually, there was no fault in her words at all.

The events of the rest of the night were now forgotten. In that moment, I could only say one thing, my voice disappearing with each syllable.

"Eu te amo demais, Rory. Está lindo, suas palavras são bonitas." (I love you too, Rory. You are beautiful, your words are beautiful.)

I was afraid she wouldn't understand the last sentence.

"Você é bonito também." (You are beautiful also.)

Usually, I'd ask how she learned Portuguese within the space of a month in detail.

That would not happen, as we shared the softest and most tender kiss we've ever had, both of us to lost within each other. She tipped back my throat and we just fell into the moment. I was enchanted, the hours before with Jamie seeming to be within another generation entirely. I felt my body respond, hungered from the denied touch of her over the last five days. From my throat, to my lips, and then my forehead, she circled my face with touching busses. Kissing my eyelids was so intimate, along with her whispers that I looked so elegant, with or without the makeup. I could barely breathe as the ice around my heart melted, and I opened myself completely to her.

I can truthfully say I enjoy the intimacy, but the kissing and petting which leads up to it makes it all worth it. Hearing the rustling of the blanket below me, and the slight groan in the distressed old floor of New Brunswick maple it rested upon. The atmosphere was perfect, quiet, close. The large space could not dissipate our intimacy.

I slid my hands onto her arms loosely, letting her determine where things would go. I felt safe with Rory, perfectly guided. I then reached behind her to finish the undoing of her gown. The bodice of the dress fell to her hips and hung loose, giving me a true view of her flat stomach, the pale skin of her torso, all the way down to where the dress hung tantalizingly at the bottom of her abdomen, making me imagine what was lower. The hair along my arms stood on end as her hands trailed down to hike up my dress and she began to slowly undress me.

"I love you in green," she husked. "This especially, showing yourself off. You're really coming out of your shell." I felt her lips move down from my mouth, small kisses trailing along my right cheek, and lower. I seemed to idle, still overwhelmed, falling deeper into the chasm. I closed my eyes when I tipped my head back as I found them dead-on with a ceiling fixture.

With a sense lost and taste not in the mix for that moment, the other three amplified. I could feel more air stream along my legs as she pushed the dress up as her thumbs circled out and then in along my thighs. I moaned softly, letting her have control. Along my neck, my legs, she touched softly, exploring and familiarizing herself with what got me hot outside of the rushed situations of last weekend. There was no hurry or a sense of time, and I was astonished by her assertiveness over the situation.

That included slowly sliding off the thin garment that made up my dress. The zipping from earlier may have been speedy, but the rustling of fabric was very soft, as if it was...being centimetered off? I know the term is inched, but an inch is such a large measurement. She was being purposefully slow and teasing, sliding the straps down first, and then the bodice, leaving soft kisses down the middle of my chest with each new piece of exposed skin. I stayed still beyond my lungs filling and emptying, thinking about how this was going to happen.

The air in the room was cool, a side effect of the large space and being in it after the usual heating hours. However I felt warm enough. Her hand pushed up the blatant slit of my dress, taking in the strong curve of my leg as I became lost to the situation. My building doubts about my body image seemed to be knocked down with each new compliment from Rory.

"You're so smooth, beautiful." I love the sound of her voice when she's in passion, a deep timbre rarely heard by anyone else. I wish I could have a guidepoint to compare it to, but I guess you could think of a singer with a throaty voice. I was so dizzy from what she was doing.

"Ror...lower." I was failing to find words to describe what I wanted. Her hand slowly exposed each of my breasts from the cups of the dress. My skin was warm, my nipples hardened from the slow torture of the entire evening, of having to watch her work her clit in a circle as I talked her through her orgasm.

The image was ineradicable in my mind as her tongue took in my taste. The thin wisps of brown curls in a neat sort of inverted pyramid, surrounded by reddened and pearlish tissue glistening in the spare city lights as we headed south on Berlin Turnpike. Small fingers circling counter-clockwise, occasionally venturing in and out to hasten her fulfillment, her deep moans reassuring me that I was giving her the fuel she needed to spill over.

Her nose brushed against the sensitive tip of one of my nubs, and there was a violent upheaval within me as I grasped the mat below suddenly, seething out a profanity, begging her to further. Everything from thereon out seemed to be beyond indescribable. Indeed, my wont to describe every possible action she instigated in the hour seemed to disappear as image blurred into image, kiss into kiss, and each new touch became a part of another touch. I was now feeling what she was within the Jaguar, that first sense of knowing your lover, what they want to do, how they want to make you feel good.

I can't understand why she enjoys my breasts so much, but I know I shouldn't be complaining. Her mouth around each nipple as she went back and forth, her hands caressed them in a slow and aching wander. Her nails scratched across the outer circumference of each one. I shrieked aloud as the effects of the cooling saliva that was a remainder of her kisses pushed through me.

She slid down the dress from my legs, making me nervous. Her lashes fluttered as she took me in, and there was an urge to shift my arms across my breasts while shielding myself with a hand as if in the Venus de Milo. I felt exposed to her, all of my faults out there to see.

My inner dialogue built my doubts further. God, I need to lose ten pounds for sure, she doesn't seem to approve. The rhythm of my heart accelerated as I felt her sparkling blues rake over me, taking in those imperfections of mine. The dress was dragged over my feet, and then softly set aside at the foot of the mat.

My conscience became the Jewish mother I never had. She does realize her ex was at least built, right? What is she doing with me, thinking I'm sexy? Looking at my face, sure, but the only thing I've done is tease through shirts and pants. I don't have a body like Louise's by any means, and I'm so shy...

Rory took me in from above, and if I was afraid that would be the point of rejection, I would have been disappointed. She moved up to meet me at eye level, perusing my curves, taking me in as if I was one of those lollipops with the chocolate center. The raspberry kind that unlike the owl says, takes 493 licks to get to (as revealed by Madeline during a ninth grade science project).

Smirking, she let her hands wander across my waist, her hair cascading down, while she positioned herself so that we met face to face, while her legs brushed against my ankles.

How did I feel at that moment? With my lover on top of me, internally a mess from the emotions of the night, but probably for the first time not running away because I held her back from doing so. She was a runner, scared of conflict, and even tonight in the bathroom as she confronted me over Jamie, angered and pissed that I wouldn't say anything about him to her, I still saw her fear. She was closed off, prepared to end things right there to spare her heart.

I blocked her way. I put my heart on the line to save the relationship, but even I didn't think the result would be this. She, against me, in the same place where she realized Dean and she were compatible, but not sexually. Bringing her anger out, the betrayal she felt towards Dean, the scars he left with her that she wasn't to even utter 'fuck' because that would ruin her china doll image, leavened with a bit of acid towards Sharon.

Her eyes weighted down on me, as her hand slid down from my stomach, and towards the strip of hair, all that was between us and knocking down that last fence protecting the line between friends and lovers. If the person above me was Tristan, I would have probably been scared. Not just shitless, but paralyzed and unable to move. My mind would have been a spinning quagmire featuring a calendar and a timer stating when I took my last pill, a fear he would push in too fast, his dirty talk sort of offensive as he'd probably say something like he'd want to suck my breasts, but they'd be described in a crude plural term that rhymes with 'soccer' or 'mitt'. Of him spilling into me within a couple minutes, not even getting me started. Not to even mention that my first destination after his come would be the shower because his musk would be all over me, the signs of what he did all over, with bruises and pain. Fears that it would just be sex, nothing more, something I would remember forever, but he would recount I Love the 80's style in front of a bluescreen as part of a countdown, between Denise Terreo and Lemon Vermouth.

Like Rory said, sex with Tristan would probably be wonderful and fulfilling, and I dreamed about it many times. But in the end, looking back, I'm content I made the right decision on shutting him out after his ticket ploy and never sleeping with him. When all is said and done, I don't regret anything. Tristan will be happy with someone else, while I can be happy with Rory.

Very, very happy. Oh dear, I must be sounding a step above demented...

Her thumbs brushed across the sides of my breasts as she took me in warmly, with the nervousness of the week gone. She felt confident in her own skin, her eyes not displaying any kind of fear towards me, lips pouted, nostrils flared. A lump in her throat, I could tell the only thing on her mind was my pleasure. I felt my throat squeak, a bit intimidated at watching her above me. There was that fiery confidence in her that always comes through at the right time.

Brushing against the lower part of one, I flinched, kicking up on reflex, shocked. I knew where I felt turned on but wanted her to be surprised. I moaned her name out, and she felt encourage on further. I let my hands settle at her waist while my thumbs rested on the top of her backside.

Slowly I found myself coming into my own and willing to let her explore. She was caring and deliberate with her touches, kisses along my cheeks, her words softened. The bitterness of earlier was replaced with wary caution to turn me on but know that I didn't want rough play. I wanted slow, and she was great in that regard. I heard her whisper nothings to me, mentions of the taste of my skin, the scent of my perfume, how silky my hair felt. Admittedly I was clenching my fists at times and trying to hold back, but relaxation came quickly with loving strokes.

It took a while to warm up, as she concentrated on finding my erogenous zones, especially my scalp and the small of my back, and including my stomach. She spoke about how beautiful I was nude, how natural my beauty was. "I could just stare at you all night and be fulfilled," she said softly as her hands explored my curves. I felt her against me, her nipples as hard as mine and pushed against my breasts, occasionally brushing at my sensitive nubs and causing me to react with a seething call of her name out loud. The mat was about the only odd thing in the whole setting as I felt myself sticking against it, but it was a little thing.

She lavished my breasts with touches, kisses, and then moved up towards my neck. She fit perfectly against me, and as the minutes passed the anticipation built. Her hand would slide down to occasionally brush my sensitive clit to tease me, the reaction seemingly pleasing her. In the periphery of my vision I could see what began as dark red marks, fading out as her lipcolor dissipated along the swell of my bust. As she went on, she would pull her hand away to slide across my stomach, but circled lower with each new tease.

Lower, lower...its odd how I enjoy her nails only grown out an eighth of an inch. They aren't long, but they're just enough for me, so perfect. She curled them down my center line in a tight three pattern along the edge of the indentation to start out with and as she moved down opened the stroke to be more of a nine with a small loop. My insides were gel and I was reacting involuntarily to the touch as it began to approach my hairline. She kissed my eyelids as the circles drifted ever lower as she switched her strokes to counter-clockwise sixes. My breathing was ragged, thoughts about her preparing for this with herself for so many months running through my mind.

"Want you, all for myself." She tucked my hair behind my ear. "Want you, baby girl."

"How much?" She was beginning to position herself above me, sensing where things were going.

Chills went through me when she answered. "More than Harvard." She instigated another deep kiss and I was too far gone to even answer. My body began to respond as I pulled her down a bit, her hand just over my clit as she attempted to tease.

I wanted this so much, there was no doubt about it. I was soaking and so turned on by her seductive moves before all of this, and we now knew each other more than we could have ever fathomed before I discovered the notebook. There wasn't a need for permission, a moment of pause where I had those second thoughts before reassuring myself that I wanted this. My eyes said it all to her, wide and watery, begging her to make this the moment the little Jewish girl finally let herself be a woman.

"I love you." Those were my last words before her hand breached me, and I lost all conscious thought as she took me to a plane I know that nobody else could have ever taken me. I could describe everything in agonizing detail, but I also forgot so many of them because I was so overwhelmingly turned on and hot, each memory only there to further the moment on. Suffice to say she didn't tease, nor did she hold back at all. It was long, it was agonizing and beautiful. The way she took me was beyond how I could've ever dreamed it, her thin fingers carefully sliding in. One first, then two, and then, finally three, with her thumb manipulating my clit. My fear that Rory had no idea how to make love to me was instead replaced with a thought that I don't know if I could live if we couldn't be together like this ever again. My throat was ragged by the end, my hair ravaged and my body...a good kind of hurting going through my bones from her passion.

I could've never dreamed that by the end of this evening I'd be giving the most precious thing I bear to the girl I loved in such a way, after going through so many obstacles and hearing how her devotion to someone has burned her before. A memory she wanted to forget and never have reoccur.

Well I can tell you right now despite how vocal I am in my sleep talking, the thought of Tristan, or any man for that matter, giving me the passion that Rory did in the time that passed after is hereby impossible. The way her fingers slid effortlessly within me, how she knew where I wanted to be touched, and how it naturally went from a focus on me to lovemaking between the both of us in every sense of the word, there wasn't anything that I wanted to change at all. Even the argument in the bathroom and the coldness of the Formal is something that has strengthened us further. We both learned tonight that we have to share how we feel, that we need to defend each other and prepare for any kind of suspicion, and reassure each other that the words we said tonight will remain the statement that defines us in the future, not something that's said due to chronological convenience or a panic.

We're both just settling down now from the outpouring of passion and lust, my body against her slim form and fitting within her perfectly. We're both so damp, and I feel limp as I look at her about to close my eyes. God, I want to get up, but how can I? Can I really justify moving away from Rory when my heart is yearning to stay so close? The blankets are loosely wrapped around us, the lining of my jacket sticking against me, everything which had been on our persons thrown haphazardly around the mats, and my rationality is telling me to get the fuck out of here lest we be discovered...

But my hand is clasped in hers, a warm, secure feeling, and her dimmed eyes are telling me I can't go, along with her quiet voice, reassuring and calm. That small-town squeak within it catches my breath every time.

"You know, you've just guaranteed I won't be out of bed until one o'clock." Her legs brush against mine and she brushes a buss across my lips. "Who would've thought you'd be the one to ruin my highly organized Sundays?"

"I'm sure Lorelai appreciates it," I noted. "I'm just glad that we got to this step without any kind of pro-con list whatsoever."

"Hey!" She slugged my arm. "I'll have you know, missy, that I still had a plan in my head."

"A plan sidetracked by my mother, so you had to improvise." I smirked. "You had to scramble after I made you see that your cell was at home."

"How did you know that anyways?" she asked.

I tried to avoid the truth. "Just an educated guess that somehow my messages went unheeded."

"Riggght." She shook her head. "I'm pretty sure that you checked with my mom before you went with your plan of attack."

"Perhaps I did. But even if I didn't it would have been 50/50 that you were without your phone." I decided to tease her a little bit more. "I suppose then you totally missed the other messages I left you before Sharon sprung Jamie on me."

"Come to think of it I left it charging since last night." She was visibly annoyed as she realized her absent-mindedness. "Then again I was sort of forgetful all through the evening; my mind was elsewhere all through dinner with the grandparents."

"Really now? Was it about the test Mercurio has us taking on War and Peace Tuesday morning?"

"No." Pushing closer to me she let her hands settle against the small of my back, making herself comfortable. "I...I kind of had to go upstairs after only finishing half my plate."

I didn't understand the lead of the conversation because her voice seemed unsettled. "So?" I saw her sigh and smile weirdly at me.

"So, I can't stop thinking about you! Grandma going on about my refusal to get a Yale interview in before December ends, Grandpa going on about Yale traditions, and Mom arguing about Yale with them, it was pretty much an all-Yale dinner. It made me feel sick."

"I'm sorry. God, you really just need to burn a Yale jersey or the Daily News in front of them just to get the point across." I felt so much sympathy for her having to go through this stupid debate about a college which isn't where she wants to be. I kissed her forehead and then rested in the crook of her neck as we began to talk ourselves asleep.

"And that's why I said I was sick and wanted to lie down, I needed space from them. I needed space from their pre-ordained idea of life for me. I escaped up to my bedroom at the mansion and thought of the both of us, like we did, making love. I still had your scent in my mind from hours earlier, along with the anticipation of seeing you tonight, and I just felt...so overwhelmed. Like I can only think about you."

Trembling against me, she was emotional. "I don't know why I've fallen so hard and so fast for you, Par. I mean a month ago when I could only watch you I thought I could keep everything in control, stay focused and not have every moment I could spare result in thinking about you. I just was under this mindset that if we were together we'd end up moving at the same speed as I did with Dean. That it would be...sane." She looked down.

"You forget though, love is the least sane emotion of them all." I ran my hand along her back. "I understand much more about why you stayed with Dean now, even as you were pulled towards me. He offered you so much safety, a bit of control to keep yourself from heading off the end, and that's why you always had that sense in your mind that your 'I love you' to him in the courtyard wasn't what you really felt. You did love him, like I did Tristan. It just wasn't a kind of love where you gave him your heart and soul, you didn't let go of it because those thoughts of Beth were always with you."

"That's why when he said it in the junkyard, I couldn't say it back," she explained pensively. "Did he really mean it? How could he know that he loved me after exactly 90-92 days of dating? I mean if he said it before then or didn't bring it up until later, I wouldn't have held the doubts about Beth because I knew the words were true, from his heart, not pre-conceptions."

Pausing for a moment, she seemed to be lost in thought, going back to something in her past. After a bit of searching, she found what she wanted to say. "I've never said this, but I regret telling him I loved him." There was no hesitation in her words, and I was surprised by her tone.

"But you did," I said softly. "Why would you?"

Rory, staring at me with those eyes so clear, brushed a finger against my cheek, and with her soft voice, melted my heart. "Because he didn't treasure the love I have for another like you do." I was stunned, my emotions completely stunted by her confession. "There were times where I knew he meant it, but it was always when it was expected, when he was at my house and in front of my mother. He would never say it when I visited his house, or when I met him in front of the high school after an early dismissal, or just because. It was just a suffix to his goodbye, something familiar he knew I'd never question." She sighed, and then made the ring motion with her index finger around mine. "If I would have known that his love would be so boring I would have broken up with him."

To add finality to how she stood with me, she reminded me of what we went through tonight. "I could have lost your love tonight with that outburst in the bathroom, and rightly so. But you weren't like Dean. You didn't act like a five year-old and wait for me to come around and apologize. You decided to be proactive and you made it damned clear that the only way you're going to lose me is in a way that's beyond your control. And even then you'll continue to fight for me until you can't. You love me, Paris, and I love you. I know others would think that we're acting too fast, we're irrational, and that we have no idea how to love or be in love."

She quickly paused to catch her breath within our heated embrace, the words coming out in a rush of emotion. "But I look at it this way. We're perfect for each other. I was stuck in a two year relationship that wouldn't budge beyond puppy love, no matter what I tried to do to make that clear to Dean, who I just could never see as really wanting me beyond a replacement for Beth. You, on the other hand, you've wanted a relationship for so long, on your own terms, but you haven't been able to. Tristan, whoever Sharon pushes off on you, along with Louise trying to force you to think that the sex beyond everything else is what makes a relationship great. It just alienated you from even considering one. We want someone we can love on every level, be passionate with, share everything and anything. We have that in so many ways, and..." her voice finally faded down as she began to feel tired. "I love you for everything you did tonight. For thinking fast and getting me in the town car before I almost ruined the best night we've had so far before it ever started. For being there to hear me out, my worries and doubts, and letting me be there to comfort you when your mother's intentions became clear. And for letting me bring you here, a place that holds so much meaning for me. I can never forget this night."

I touched her side softly, crying as everything she said overwhelmed me. I couldn't really put how everything affected me into words, everything she said. All I knew was that I wouldn't forget tonight either. Kissing her softly, I closed my eyes and whispered how much she meant to me.

"Thank you for coming back, my love." I pulled up the blanket, brought her close. "If we can get through something like what happened with Jamie, we can get through anything."

"I love you, Paris."

"I love you too." I smiled, and then brought everything to a close. "Do we want to get up? I don't know that I can after...that."

"Miss Patty has no Sunday yoga tomorrow as far as I remember." She curled up against me, ready to rest.

"Good." With that, she began to fall asleep, and I began to think of what this night resulted in, beyond no longer having to carry the Mary tag silently within Chilton.

I lay here, about to fall asleep, thinking about how much Rory has confided in me, the way she trusted me with all this information about how hurt she was in the past with Dean. How simple it was for her to apply a fictional veneer to her small town life that showed that she was an unhappy part of a happy couple. It makes me consider what could have happened if somehow Tristan would have found cause to get together with me.

What was I thinking at that time, honestly? He was just coming off that relationship with Summer and I'd be the girlfriend to set him straight? Really I'm glad all of my delusions of his not wanting Rory were gone with the kiss in the music room. I don't regret the way things went after the date, but if I would have known Rory was telling the truth I know things might have gone differently.

Like for instance instead of hearing about Deano's front drive foray from Madeline, I could've been there to try and avert it from ever happening. If I knew then what I knew now I could've announced to the world that his jack-off material consisted not of my brown-eyed beauty, but some assembly line richie from the North Shore. How he could choose her over Rory, I don't think I'll ever know. But Rory knows I never liked him to begin with. He was an idiot, someone who's the nice boy and doesn't ruffle any feathers at all.

Much less a bra strap.

But I'm getting the last laugh now. In the same room where two years ago he had his chance he blew, the girl who was to love him left him completely behind, telling me she loved me. Then of her proceeding to make love to me in a way that turned my dreams from vivid and color to dull and sepia. The real woman, with the real heart and passion, has overtaken the girl I thought about for over a year doing these things.

She looks so beautiful when she sleeps, and as I let my eyes close for a quick nap, I can't help but think that maybe that pink sky out there was a foretelling. Her mother has always said that 'wonderful things happen in snow'.

I don't know if it is for sure, but If there's flakes falling, I think my opinion of snow as an annoyance may be changing...

To be continued...