Archive of Our Own

It was absurd. It was absolutely absurd, and if you were to ask Paris, someone must be out to get her. There was no other reason why she would happen to wind up sharing a room with none other than Rory Gilmore, and to make matters worse, they had been booked for a single.

As in a singular room, with one bed. One.

Sure, she and Rory are the only girls on the debate team, and yes, their last names both start with a G, but honestly. It’s just Paris’ luck that she would have to share not only a room, but a bed, with her self-proclaimed rival. She had shared a room with Rory before, this past summer in DC. Yet somehow this felt different. Rory was her vice president. Of course they would be sharing a room then. Now it just felt excessive.

Paris dragged her suitcase into the room, her over-stuffed messenger bag slung over her shoulder. Pulling the bag over her head, she sat down in the swivel chair by the desk. If they were going to beat the other high school, Paris needed to work on her openings. It was idiotic that they wouldn’t tell them if they were debating for pro or con until an hour before the actual debate. She took out a folder marked “Pro” and began reading over her opening argument, reciting the words quietly to herself. She made sure to speak slowly, and made an effort to put emotion into her voice, (Mr. Hunter had told her last debate meet that her voice was monotone. And while Paris didn’t have particular respect for someone who thought it wise to assign a “group essay” on Othello, she had lost points in the previous debate for her apparent “monotonous, toneless cadence.”) 

“Paris, is that really necessary?” Rory asked suddenly.

“Yes,” Paris looked up at Rory briefly before returning to her paper. “I have to review. Those Greenwich kids may be idiots, but that doesn’t mean we should be as well.”

Rory rolled her eyes and began moving towards the windowsill.

“What are you doing?” Paris snapped.

Rory sat down on the ledge of the window and gave Paris a funny look. “...Sitting? There’s only one chair in here.”

Paris looked up as if suddenly aware of her surroundings, “Right. Of course, not only would they give us one bed, but we only get one chair as well. Checks out. I suppose there’s only one towel as well. Why did those idiots give us a single room?”

“Hey, I’m not too thrilled about it either.”

Paris scowled before returning to her folder. She pulled out Rory’s closing argument. “Here, I went over your speech. I made some notes, you should practice.”

Rory took the paper and turned it over in her hand. Nearly every sentence was highlighted and scribbled on with red ink.

“Geez, Paris. When did you even have time to do this?” Rory asked, staring at the tiny letters written on the edge of the page.

“Well, when you were on the phone with your mom, or Farmer Boy, or whoever, I was actually being productive.” 

“I broke up with Dean a while ago. You know that.”

Paris didn’t answer, and instead began to flip through her folder, “Have both the pro and con speeches fully memorized. I already memorized my speeches, I’m just working on the recitation now. I’ve memorized most of the articles we found on the con side, but I haven’t gotten to the pro yet. Do you think you can memorize those by tomorrow?”

  “Okay, Paris, you need to chill out. Like, a lot. I don’t think anyone is gonna ask you to recite thirty different articles word for word.” Rory said, giving her that same strange look as before.

“How do you know?”

“Well, for one,” Rory said, “The entire debate is only 90 minutes.” 

“And?” Paris demanded.

“And, I don’t think it's possible for both teams to recite every article ever written about euthanasia in 90 minutes.”

“Anyway, your closings needed work. I gave you some notes.”

“Some?” Rory muttered, before sliding off the windowsill and walking over to the bed, taking the criticized speeches with her.

“What are you doing?” Paris asked, turning in her chair to face Rory.

“Paris, you really need to calm down.” Rory said as she sat on the bed, “I’ll go over the closing arguments. I just wanted to sit on the bed.” 

Paris rolled her eyes before returning to her work. She just needed to read these speeches one more time, then she could begin going over the articles. The only problem was she couldn’t seem to pay attention with Rory sitting so close to her. There must’ve been a good three feet between the desk chair and the bed, and yet Paris could swear she was breathing in the same air Rory was breathing out. She could hear every move Rory made as though it were being blasted directly into her ears. Every time Rory shifted on the bed, or turned over a page, Paris was drawn away from her work. Eventually, Paris opted to stop trying to work, and instead to just stare at Rory.

Unfortunately, it didn’t take long for Paris’ thoughts to drift from hatred and annoyance to, well, something else. She found herself caught up on just how much Rory looked like a Disney princess, with her doe-like blue eyes, and the permanent innocence painted on her face. Paris shook her head to rid herself of these nonsensical thoughts. She wasn’t thinking about Rory’s eyes and lips, she wasn’t. Paris reminded herself that she hates Rory, that this is her number one rival, and that Rory was possibly the most infuriating person on Earth. Still, that didn’t stop her from getting strange flutters in her stomach when Rory looked up at her.

“What?” Rory asked, furrowing her eyebrow, “Why are you staring at me?”

“Stop being so self centered, Gilmore.” Paris said, “Not everything’s about you.” Partly embarrassed at having been caught, and partly miffed at having had her staring  interrupted, Paris returned to her work. 

Rory rose from where she’d been sitting,

“Where are you going?” Paris asked, glancing over from the desk.

“It's 8 o’clock.” Rory answered as she zipped open her bag and began rummaging through. “We’ve been sitting here for almost two hours. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

“Oh, okay.”

Rory grabbed a pair of pajamas and a toiletry bag from her duffel and to the bathroom. Paris heard the shower turn on, and a minute later the door re-opened, and Rory poked her head out.

“Good news, Paris! There’s more than one towel!” Rory said before shutting the door again.

Paris smiled to herself before returning to her work. Some undefined amount of time later (Paris never had a good concept of time while she was working), the shower shut off, and Rory came out of the bathroom, steam following behind her. She was dressed in pink pajamas with cartoon dogs, her wet hair dripping onto her back.

Paris quirked an eyebrow at her, “That’s what you wear to bed?”

Rory squeezed out her hair, letting the water fall onto the carpeted floor. “I’m allowed to wear fun clothes to bed. Embrace the whimsy.”

“Are you done with the bathroom?” Paris asked, unimpressed.

“Yeah, you can go shower now.”

So she did. Paris got up from where she had been sitting for almost three (?) hours. Carefully, she pulled out the packing cube in which she had packed her nighttime clothes. Then she took her shower stuff, and her towel before heading to the bathroom.

“Are you kidding?” Rory asked from behind her.

Paris turned around, scowling. “What?”

“You went off about the amount of towels they would give us, and this whole time, you brought your own!”

“Hey, I don’t trust their towels. That doesn't give them the right to provide only one.”

Rory gave her a half-smile, and Paris went into the bathroom. The floor was wet, and steam covered the mirror and walls. Carefully, Paris hung her towel, before placing her shampoo, conditioner, and body wash on the ledge of the tub. She took a few breaths, trying to ignore the fact that someone else had used this shower (the fact that that someone had been Rory didn’t seem to make her feel better about this particular fact).  Paris has always been very particular and very sanitary. She didn’t care for sharing a bathroom. Still, it wasn’t all bad. The water was hot as soon as it was turned on, which meant she didn’t need to stand around awkwardly waiting for the water to heat up. 

Paris allowed the hot water to wash the tension out of her shoulders. Well, most of it anyway. Paris was never entirely tension free. There was way too much to be worried about for complete relaxation. The burning water also did a good enough job of distracting her from the slight problem that was Rory. Since Rory had arrived at Chilton, she had irritated Paris to no end. She’d ruined her project on her first day! That’s enough grounds to be enemies for life.

Still, no matter how cold and callous Paris was to her, Rory always seemed to forgive her. She had set her up with Tristin, which she had no reason to do. Sure, that had been an absolute trainwreck of a date, Paris found the idea of Tristin much nicer than the real thing, and Tristin apparently thought that Paris was absolutely undateable. Still, it was a nice thing to do. And all the same, Paris couldn’t think about Rory without feeling a rush of red hot blood she’d marked as anger, because she worried if she thought too much about it, she wouldn’t be able to dismiss it that easily.

Somehow, Rory always managed to find her way inside Paris’ walls, which until Rory, had been pretty good at shutting everyone out. Even Madeline and Louise, who she’d been friends with since fifth grade, couldn’t seem to really break through to Paris. Yet, after only two years of knowing her, Rory seemed to affect her more than anyone else.

Paris went through her shower routine before finally shutting off the shower. Without the sounds of rushing water, Paris’ thoughts suddenly seemed a lot louder. Not that that was unusual, more often than not Paris found herself in some sort of anxious spiral. Stepping out of the shower, and wrapping her towel around herself, she grabbed her brush and began combing through her hair. When she was very little, she had tight curls, a trait she had gotten from her Jewish genes. Sometime around puberty however, her hair had straightened out entirely. Still, if not frequently brushed, it got matted way too quickly.

She went through the motions of getting dressed somewhat robotically, mind occupied by other things, (most notably, Rory.) This resulted in Paris putting her pajama pants on backwards the first time, which she scowled at herself for before fixing. Dressed, Paris left the bathroom, where she was met with the sight of Rory sitting on the bed, flicking through the channels on the TV.

“Hey,” Rory said when she noticed Paris, “Looking for something to watch, but basically every channel is news.”

Paris sat on the bed hesitantly. “Maybe they know you should be working and not watching television.”

Rory shot her a glance, “C’mon Paris. We’ve been practicing for this all week, plus we just spent three hours reviewing. I think we’ll be fine if we take a break. Oh! Ally McBeal’s on!”

So, Paris resolved to take a break, and let Rory explain the complicated backgrounds of each character. 

Rory woke some time in the middle of the night, suddenly very thirsty. She groaned, and rubbing her eyes, turned to the little clock on the bedside table to check the time. 2:47. Rory went to take a sip from the cup of water she kept beside her bed only to find it was empty. Damn it. Groggily grabbing the cup, Rory headed to the bathroom to fill it up. She was pretty sure she could drink the tap water here. She pushed the bathroom door open, and then immediately shut her eyes against the bright lights. Waiting for her eyes to adjust to the light, she started towards the sink. Once she could see again, her heart almost jumped out of her chest when she suddenly noticed a figure in the corner. It took her exhausted brain a second to realize that figure was Paris.

“Holy shit, Paris you scared me.” 

Paris snapped up to look at Rory. Her eyes were red, and from the confused look she gave Rory, she was clearly either sleeping or half asleep when Rory came in. In front of her laid piles of papers sorted out into a few messy piles. Paris was gripping a red pen, and from the marks on her face, she had clearly accidentally fallen asleep with the pen to her face.

“Paris, have you been here the whole time?” Rory asked incredulously. She didn’t remember Paris ever getting into the bed, but she had assumed she was there. 

“Well, you had shut off the lights, and I wasn’t done working. So I came in here.”

“Paris, this is insane. It’s 3 in the morning. Go to sleep.”

“I can’t, Gilmore, I just need to go over this one more time.” Paris rubbed her eyes before turning back to the mess of papers in front of her. 

“Go to sleep.” Rory repeated.

“I can’t remember any of our arguments. I’m no use if I can’t remember any of the arguments.” 

“You’re no use if you die of exhaustion. Plus, you probably forgot the arguments because you’re so tired. Your brain crashed. Get up.”

“What?” Paris asked, looking up from her papers.

“Get up, c’mon, you’re going to sleep.” Rory offered her hand out for Paris to grab.

Paris sat motionless, staring at Rory. Rory wondered if Paris had simply shut down from exhaustion.  Paris continued to sit on the floor, not making any move to rise.

“Okay.” Rory grabbed Paris’ hand and pulled her up. Once standing, Paris pulled her hand away as if she had been burned. Placing her hands on Paris’ shoulders, Rory guided Paris out of the bathroom. 

“I’m going to sleep now. You’re going to sleep now. Good night.” Rory said as she climbed into bed. Paris followed her tentatively, sitting upright on the bed. 

“I’ll go to sleep now, but we’re reviewing the arguments first thing tomorrow morning.” Paris said as she pulled the covers over herself. 

“Sure, Paris. Whatever you want. Just go to sleep, I’m tired.” Rory was normally a black-out sleeper, yet some little part of her subconscious registered Paris’ breath even out before she completely fell asleep.

Rory woke to warm rays of sun streaming through the hotel curtains directly into her eyes. She groaned and turned over, covering her head with her pillow. She was about to drift off to sleep when she suddenly registered where she was. At a hotel room. With Paris. In the same bed as Paris.

Upon coming to this realization, she also came to the realization that Paris was currently curled up against her, her arm strewn across Rory’s waist. The bed was reasonably large, probably a king, and yet Paris lay directly against her. It was nice. Paris was warm, and her body seemed to fit perfectly against Rory’s. She wasn’t sure how much physical contact you typically share with your archrival turned friend who also hates you a lot of the time, but Rory was pretty sure this exceeded the norm. Odd that someone who cringes away from all physical contact when awake would be so touchy when asleep.

Rory could feel her face grow hot. She was suddenly all too aware of herself, of her unbrushed teeth, and messy hair. Carefully, so as not to wake Paris up, Rory shifted away from her and towards the edge of the bed. She was exhausted, and fairly certain it was much too early to get up for the day, yet she seriously considered it as she lay half off the bed. An arm’s reach away, Paris rolled over, muttering something about Watergate. When they shared a room in DC, Rory had initially found Paris’ sleep talking to be somewhat aggravating. By the time they were leaving she had found it amusing, almost cute. Of course Paris would be talking about Richard Nixon and political scandals in her sleep.

 Paris, still asleep, was now facing Rory. A strand of her blonde hair fell across her face which gave Rory an inexplicable urge to tuck it back behind Paris’ ear. Rory studied Paris for a moment. Her features were soft, and relaxed. She appeared calm, almost content, which seemed incompatible with awake Paris, who seemed to be in a perpetual state of stress or annoyance. Rory was well aware that staring at someone while they sleep is creepy, yet Paris looked so peaceful, and she couldn’t seem to pull her eyes away. 

Rory turned momentarily to the clock on the bedside table. 6:32. Way too early to get up. And so, taking a deep breath and ignoring all the implications of being in such close quarters to Paris, Rory rolled back onto the bed. She did her best to flush out all thoughts of Paris and focus on going back to sleep. Somehow, although her heart was beating in some irregular fashion, Rory managed to fall asleep.

Paris was not a touchy person. She really wasn’t. So when she had woken up practically on top of Rory, she immediately pushed herself out of bed and almost ran to the bathroom. Rory did not stir, thank god. If Rory was a light sleeper she didn’t know what she would’ve done.

The cold water Paris threw on her face only partially helped to rid herself of the burning in her cheeks. Only with Rory Gilmore would she ever end up in this situation. She knew, deep down, or perhaps not so deep down, that what she felt for Rory could not simply be pure irritation. She knew that no one was fueled as strongly as she was just by pure loathing, a fact which had been pointed out to her on several occasions by both Madeline and Louise. Yet she also knew what had happened when she went out with Tristin. 

Paris was not likable. That she knew without a doubt. Somewhere along the line of growing up, everyone else was magically imbued with knowledge of what's appropriate to say and what’s not. How to read other people's thoughts and emotions. How to exist as a normal, likable person. Paris was not that lucky. She was constantly putting her foot in her mouth, accidentally (and sometimes purposefully) making rude remarks, effectively isolating her from any real connection. Which was why she absolutely could not pursue, or even think about her feelings for Rory. Despite her less than perfect inter-personal skills, she had managed to maintain a rather amicable relationship with Rory. Paris may still call Rory her archrival, and she may have frequently complained about her, but in all honesty, Rory was the most meaningful relationship she currently had. In fact, it’s likely the most meaningful relationship she’s ever had, excluding her nanny. 

So, when Rory asked her how she slept, she didn’t mention that it was the most sound she had slept in a while, and when they won the debate, (because of course they did,) she made an effort to appear uncomfortable at Rory’s embrace.

It had been four days since the debate, and Paris was finding it increasingly harder to not think about Rory. She was sitting in the cafeteria with Madeline and Louise, who were chattering away about something or another. Even if she wanted to listen to their mindless prattle, she was struggling to keep her focus on the conversation at hand. Across the cafeteria, Rory sat with a book in front of her, the title of which Paris couldn’t make out. She had earphones in, and seemed completely absorbed in the novel, her lunch tray sat untouched beside her. Recently, Rory had taken to sitting with Paris, Madeline, and Louise at lunch, but on the occasion she was hyper-invested in a book she sat by herself. 

Since they’d returned from their trip, Paris had done her best to evade Rory, dodging her in the hallways and cutting their conversations short. Her avoidance, regrettably, was not helping; she was near constantly thinking about Rory. Rory didn’t seem to have any concerns about their trip, as she was acting completely regularly towards Paris.

Paris was pulled out of her thoughts by a nudge to her shoulder. She looked away from Rory over to Madeline, who looked concerned, and Louise, who was smirking at her.

Paris bristled, “What?”

“You seem awfully distracted today. Looking at anyone in particular?” Louise asked with a pointed look.

“What? No. Just thinking.”

“Uh huh. Maybe we should call Rory over. That’d make you more interested in the conversation.” Louise said.

“Why would we get Rory? What are you getting at?” Paris said, suddenly all too self aware. She needed to get better at hiding her thoughts. Unfortunately, Louise and Madeline seemed to know her too well for that.

Louise began to say something but Madeline cut her off, “Nothing. Leave her alone, Louise.”

“I’m just trying to help,” Louise said, “It’s very in right now.”

“We don’t know-” Madeline started.

“Please,” Louise scoffed.

Paris stood up, she did not want to continue this conversation.  “I need to go to my locker.” 

“Paris, wait,” Madeline began, but Paris was already walking away. 

Later that day, Paris was on her way to the SGO meeting. It actually started at 3:30, but as the president, she thought it crucial to arrive at least 15 minutes early. To her surprise, and aggravation, Francine was already sitting in the conference room. After a rather irritating conversation about fluorescent lighting, Paris managed to shoo Francine away.

Paris began to look through her bag for the meeting agenda she had printed. Once she found it, she sat down at the head of the table and began to look it over. She would need to pencil in time for Francine’s proposal. Paris heard the door open and shut again, and she looked up to see Rory walking into the room.

“I saw Francie leave.” Rory said as she sat in the chair beside Paris’. “What was that about?”

“She wanted my support in a new petition she’s trying to get passed. Wants to change the lighting to LED.” Paris looked at Rory, “You’re here early.”

“Well, I’m the vice president. Gotta be punctual, right?” Rory took the schedule from Paris and began to look it over. “Did you say yes?”

“What?”

“You said she wanted your support, did you say yes?”

“I told her I’d think about it. Can I have my meeting agenda back?”

“Here,” Rory handed the paper back to Paris, pulling her chair closer so she could look over Paris’ shoulder. “What’s on the agenda for today?”

Paris could feel the heat rush to her cheeks. Rory was very close to her. Like incredibly so. Alarm bells began going off in her head, as every part of her body warned her that being in such close proximity to Rory was a horribly bad idea. Paris shifted her chair away from Rory and kept her eyesight on the schedule in front of her, “You’re very close.”

“Well, you took my agenda away. I wanna see.” Paris could feel Rory’s eyes on her, but she was terrified to meet them. 

Paris pushed the list towards Rory, “You can have it back.”

“Okay.” Rory pushed Paris’ forehead back, forcing her to look up. “Why are you being so weird?”

Paris scowled and hit Rory’s hand away, “I’m not. I just don’t like people in my personal space is all.” 

“Okay, even if that were true, you’re not even looking at me. Did Francie tell you something? Because I thought we agreed that everything she says is probably not true.”

“What do you mean ‘even if that were true’?” Paris asked.

“Nevermind that. You’re not answering me. Are you upset with me or something?” 

“No, I’m not upset.” 

“So this is just regular Paris weird then?” Rory asked, sitting back in her chair.

“What? Yes- Or no. What does ‘regular Paris weird’ mean?”

“You know, blunt, anxious, antisocial.”

“Great. Glad to know you find me antisocial.” Paris said. She was, still for some reason it hurt to hear from Rory.

“Paris-”

“No, no, really it’s great. Everyone’s always telling me to be more amicable, and more of a people person. If Rory Gilmore agrees it must be true, right? No wonder no one wants to go out with me, I'm antisocial!” Paris said. She wanted, more than anything, to leave the room, let Rory take over the meeting. Go home and play Monopoly with her nanny and ignore everyone else.

“Paris,” Rory placed both hands on Paris’ shoulders, “You are antisocial. But you’re also a hard worker, and deeply driven, and compassionate, although you have a strange way of showing it. For what it's worth, I think any guy would be lucky to date you. You’re smart, and pretty, and oddly funny. I wasn’t trying to be mean, I’m sorry.”

Paris looked up to meet Rory’s gaze. She seemed sincere, but her apology wasn’t what caught her attention the most. “You think I’m pretty?”

Rory laughed. “Are you kidding? Of course you are.”

Paris’ heart was beating irrationally fast. Rory was looking at her with an expression she couldn’t quite place. Awe? No, that didn’t make any sense. Maybe some form of happiness? Whatever it was, Paris was drawn to it. She wanted to close the gap between them. She needed to get out of there quickly, otherwise she was sure she’d do something she’d regret. 

Paris looked away from Rory just in time to see Brad walk in. Others shuffled in behind him. Next to her, Rory cleared her throat and moved away from Paris, tucking her hair behind her ears. She seemed slightly flushed, her cheeks pinker than regular. 

“Okay,” Paris said as she stood up, “Everyone sit, we have a lot to discuss today.”

Rory sat by her desk, attempting to write her history essay. It was due in a week, which gave her plenty of time to complete it, but the teacher required it to be handwritten, which meant Rory needed more time. She had written an introduction three times, and every time it had felt off. She couldn’t focus on her work, her mind was somewhere else, and although she would like to pretend she didn’t know why, she knew exactly where her inattentiveness was coming from. 

She had been dealing with her feelings for Paris for quite some time now. The problem was that Rory was not gay. She really wasn’t; she genuinely loved Dean. Yet for some reason, she also couldn’t stop thinking about Paris. And it didn’t help that Paris was completely hot and cold with her. Paris spent half her time refusing to talk with her, and the other half seemingly only talking to Rory. She really didn’t understand, but she had accepted Paris’ quirks a while ago. 

Now, trying to write her history paper, she can’t stop thinking about Paris. She kept replaying the moment before the meeting over and over again in her mind. The way Paris had looked at her. How close they had been. Rory had had to hold back the impulse to kiss Paris then, but she was somewhat regretting it now. 

Rory looked at the blank page in front of her and sighed. She wouldn’t be getting any work done tonight, this paper would have to wait for another day. She got up out of her chair and went into the kitchen, where her mom was sitting. 

“Hey,” Rory said as she sat down.

“Hi,” Lorelai answered, “How’s the homework going? You’ve been holed up scribbling away like a mouse for hours.”

Rory sighed, “Didn’t actually manage to get anything done. What’s for dinner?”

“Oh, I hadn't thought about dinner.” Lorelair pursed her lips, “Wanna get something from Luke’s and grab a movie on the way back?”

“Sure.”

Twenty minutes later they were sitting on the floor in front of the couch, watching Casablanca for maybe the 100th time, burgers and fries from Luke’s in front of them. Rory tried to keep her focus on the movie, but her mind kept drifting.

“Rory. Hello, paging Rory Gilmore, are you there?”

Rory broke out of her thoughts to find Lorelai looking at her with an amused smile. 

“What’s going on? You haven’t made any comments about Casablanca, and you barely touched your fries. I'm starting to get worried about you.” Lorelai said. “Do we need to go to the hospital?”

“I’m good, just a little distracted.” Rory said, leaning her head back on the couch.

Lorelai paused the movie, “Everything good? Wanna talk about it?”

“It’s just, I'm friends with this person at school, and they’re kinda mean to me, but in a nice way?” Rory began.

“Okay,”

“And, we got a lot closer recently, and I think I like them. Which is crazy, because they’re like, so not my type!” Rory explained.

“Not your type as in you thought you were only into brunettes but he’s blonde?” Lorelai asked.

“Well, yes, but also deeper than that. They’re the exact opposite of Dean.”

“How’s that?” 

Rory sighed, “He’s sharp, and sarcastic, and very intense.” And, a girl. But that part Rory didn’t share.

“You’re allowed to like different kinds of people, you know. No one’s saying you can only like the same different versions of the same person.” 

Rory wasn’t so sure. There was one kid at Chilton who went out with a guy once. Everyone knew him as the gay kid, even though he had a girlfriend before. Rory had a boyfriend, a boyfriend who she genuinely liked, probably even loved at some point. But now she liked a girl. A lot. The two weren’t inherently contradictory, but still, it seemed amiss.

“Maybe.” Rory relented.

“No, not maybe. Definitely. And anyone who tries to tell you otherwise is dealing with their own problems. Now eat your food otherwise I will.” 

“Okay. Put Casablanca back on.”

“Gladly.”

“Rory! Phone!”

Rory looked up from her book, “Who is it?”

“Paris!” 

Rory groaned as she stood from her bed, upset to have her reading interrupted. Though, if anyone were to interrupt her, she’d like it to be Paris. Rory walked to the phone and took it from Lorelai.

“Rory!” Paris’ voice came through the phone. “Rory, we’re so screwed. I read the submissions for this week's paper, it’s utter garbage. I mean, is everyone in this school an idiot? How is it that no one can write a decent article? This stuff is worse than the Pittsburgh Gazette!”

Rory pulled the phone away from her ear. She wasn’t on speaker but it sure felt like it.

“Paris, you need to relax. I’m sure it’s fine.” Rory reassured her.

“In no world is it fine. It's barely acceptable for a public school kindergarten class!”

“It’s fine, we’ll fix it all tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?” Paris asked, her voice going slightly high, “Tomorrow is too late. We won't have enough time. Might as well submit this slop of a paper as is.”

“Hey, I love some nice slop. It’s great for the pigs.”

“This is not the time for your jokes, Gilmore.”

Rory sighed, “Listen, you can come over.”

There was a pause on the line, and then a small, “What?”

“Yeah, bring all the work. We’ll edit it at my house. That way no slop has to be submitted.” Rory offered. 

“Okay.” Paris responded before hanging up.

Rory put down the phone and sat down on the couch, flicking through the TV channels for something to watch. She heard some shuffling and turned around to see Lorelai hastily shoving things into her workbag.

“I have to head to the inn,” Lorelai said as she grabbed her keys, “There was a mixup. I think Michel got attacked by a goose. I’m not entirely sure.”

“Oh no,” Rory said, “Poor Michel.”

“Yeah, too bad I missed it. Do you need anything before I go?”

“No.”

Lorelai opened the door, “Got any plans today?”

Rory nodded, “Paris is coming over. We’re gonna edit some stuff for the newspaper.”

“Paris, huh?”

Rory hummed in agreement.

“You two really seem to be getting on well lately.” Lorelai noted.

Rory nodded, and hoped that the heat which just rushed to her cheeks wasn’t too obvious. Lorelai waved goodbye, and then left. Over the TV, Rory heard the Jeep pull out of the driveway.

An hour later, Rory was pulled away from the TV by frantic knocking on the door. Rory shut off the TV and headed to the door, where the knocking had yet to cease. She swung the door open, and there stood Paris, in a cable-knit sweater with her hair in two braids, carrying a thick stack of papers. Rory didn’t see Paris out of her Chilton uniform too often. She looked nice.

“Geez, Paris,” Rory said, “What’d the door ever do to you?”

“Take a little longer to open the door next time, Gilmore.” Paris said, walking past Rory into her house, “I mean, seriously, how long does it take to get to the door. Your house isn’t that big.”

“Thanks,” Rory muttered, shutting the door behind Paris, “Come on in.”

Paris shifted, “Where should I put the articles?”

“Oh,” Rory said, “Where do you wanna work? No one’s home, so we can work out here, or we can go to my room.”

Paris didn’t answer, but Rory saw a flash of embarrassment run across Paris’ face.

“Let’s go to my room,” Rory said, heading towards her bedroom, “I have my CD player there.”

In her room, Rory began shuffling through her CDs while Paris looked around. 

“Do you want any music?”

Paris turned from where she’d been surveying Rory’s bookshelf, “Do you have anything classical?”

“Uhh, no.” Rory looked for something she thought Paris might like, “But I have Mazzy Star.”

“That’s good.” Paris said.

Rory put the CD in, listening for the first notes of Fade Into You. Lane had called her basic when she said it was her favorite song on the album, (“Wasted is clearly a hundred times better!”) but Rory loved the song. The gentle melody, the lyrics which so clearly portray the singer’s emotions. Suffice to say, Rory liked Fade Into You.

Rory sat down on the floor, gesturing for Paris to sit as well. Paris just stood there with her pile of articles.

“On the floor?” She asked.

“Yeah, why not?” Rory answered.

“Why not a chair? Floors are for walking, not sitting.”

“It’s clean, I promise. I sweep regularly,” Rory supplied, but Paris didn’t look convinced.

“I doubt that.”

“C’mon, it’s fine.”

“I don’t get why we don’t just sit in the kitchen.” Paris said, turning longingly towards the door.

“Because the music’s here. Plus you said you didn’t care.” Rory reminded her.

"I take it back."

“Sit, Paris. Don’t you want to work on the paper?”

“Okay,” Paris sat down cautiously, “But if I get sick, it's your fault.”

Rory nodded, “Duly noted.” 

“Our biggest problem is Madeline’s article, again,” Paris said as she handed some papers to Rory, “I keep telling her to stay focused and not go on tangents, but she can’t seem to grasp the idea.”

“Don’t worry, we can fix it.” 

They worked like that for a while, side by side on the floor, each working on a separate article, occasionally conferring with each other. Rory barely had to finish her thoughts, Paris immediately latched on to whatever it was she was saying, and gave Rory exactly what she needed. There was a moment when, while writing, Paris had leaned into Rory’s side. Rory wasn’t sure if it was done consciously or not, but it had definitely been done. Rory looked up from her paper over to Paris, who was deeply invested in her work. 

Rory really wasn’t sure what to think about Paris. There would be times when she thought that maybe, possibly,  Paris liked her, romantically liked her, but then she would do something so incompatible with that idea that it seemed impossible. Then again, this was Paris she was talking about, that girl brought her own soap to school. 

Paris looked up from her work, and, likely realizing how close she was to Rory, immediately drew back. 

“Sorry,” Paris said.

“Don’t be.”

Rory noted the slight blush that painted Paris’ face, but she was equally aware of the way Paris spent the remainder of the day an arms length away from her.

Paris was sitting in class, listening to the teacher go over the details for the test for the next day. She had begun studying two days ago, so she could get by with around four hours tonight. She already knew all the information inside and out, AP bio was one of her favorite subjects, still she liked to be prepared. Behind her, she felt someone gently tap her shoulder. She turned around to see Rory looking at her.

“Hey,” Rory whispered, “Wanna study together tonight?”

Paris normally studied alone, but she was feeling good today. Social even. And it had nothing to do with the way Rory was smiling at her. Still, she couldn’t let Rory know she was so willing to work with her.

“I’ll get back to you on that Gilmore.” Paris answered, before turning around again. She could hear Rory laugh behind her. The soft laughter sent a wave of warmth through her chest. The bell rang, and Paris left the class. 

After retrieving her math textbooks from her locker, she went to go find Rory. She scanned the hallway before heading to her math class. She and Rory were in the same class, she’d find her on the way there. A few feet from the classroom, Rory leaned against some lockers, rummaging through her bag. 

Paris walked up to her, “Rory.”

Rory jumped and looked up, “Geez, Paris, you gotta stop doing that. You nearly gave me a heart attack.

“I thought about what you said. We can study together. But we’re not going all the way to your fairytale village. Come to my house. My mom’s not home so it’ll be quiet.”

“Okay, sure. Sounds good.” Rory slung her backpack over her shoulder and began to walk to class.

“What do you do in your village anyway? Do you host magical festivals every time a baby is born?” Paris said as she walked in step with Rory.

“No. Only regular festivals.” Rory said, giving Paris a crooked smile, “But there are unicorns.”

“That checks out.”

Rory and Paris entered the class, each sitting down in their seats. The bell rang, and the teacher droned on about multi-variable equations. As Paris did her work, the gravity of the situation suddenly hit her. Rory was going to be coming over to her house. Today. Alone. While she was uncharacteristically excited about having plans with Rory, she was becoming increasingly more nervous as the lesson continued. Rory had never been to her house. Paris had no idea what she would think of it. And considering recent events, Paris wasn’t sure she trusted herself to be alone with Rory. 

The urge to kiss Rory was becoming exponentially more intense every time they interacted. Every small touch sent shock waves through Paris’ body, and left her craving more. It was genuinely insane how hung up she had become on Rory. Paris did not have infatuations such as this. And yet, there she was, constantly thinking about Rory, Rory, Rory. She would have to invite Madeline and Louise along, Paris decided. God knows they could use the extra study time. They would be the perfect buffer. Paris can’t kiss Rory with them there. Unfortunately, neither Madeline nor Louise were in her math class. She would have to tell them in English.

At the end of the day, Rory caught up with Paris as she was heading towards the student parking lot. She was slightly out of breath, as though she had ran to catch up with Paris. She paused, hands on her knees, to take deep breaths.

“You good there, Gilmore?” Paris asked, once she was sure Rory wasn’t actually struggling to breathe.

“Yeah,” Rory replied, “Just a little out of breath. Gilmores aren’t meant to run.”

“Yes, well that’s probably due to all the sugar you consume. If you eat real nutrients, you would be able to run.”

“Maybe.” Rory mused, “What time should I come over later?”

Paris checked her watch, it was almost 3:30. “Four’s good.”

“Okay, well I’ll probably be a little late.”

Paris furrowed her brows, “Why?”

“Well, I have to take the bus to Stars Hollow, and then back here, which’ll take about an hour.”

Paris weighed her options. What she should do is let Rory go home first. Accept that Rory will be late, and move on with her life. Her other option was to invite Rory over directly after school, which was probably the polite thing to do. It also meant that Paris would get more alone time with her, a notion which both excited and simultaneously terrified her.  

Paris sighed, “Okay.”

“Okay, what?” Rory asked, looking confused.

“You can come straight to my house. You can come in my car.” 

Rory beamed, “Aww, Paris, that’s so nice!”

“Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head,” Paris scoffed, “Don’t think this’ll be a pattern.”

“Oh, don’t worry.” Rory said, as she began to walk with Paris to the car, “I know better than that.”

The car ride was oddly comfortable. Paris usually drove in silence, but Rory kept turning on the radio when she wasn't looking. After a few unsuccessful attempts to regain control of the stereo, Paris yielded control to Rory, who kept flipping through the channels, settling on a song only to switch it a minute later.

“Can you leave the radio alone?” Paris complained. “You’ve been switching stations for the past ten minutes.”

Rory grinned, “We’ve only been in the car for like, five minutes. Plus it’s more fun this way.”

“Well it feels longer.”

After ten minutes, Paris pulled into her driveway. The way Rory was looking at her house reminded Paris that Rory had never been over before. She didn’t invite many people over. Madeline and Louise have, on occasion, shown up to her house, without her having invited them. The last time she can remember openly inviting someone over was in elementary school, and she doesn’t speak to that girl anymore. 

“Wow! I finally get to see the Geller residence. I’m excited.” Rory said as she exited the car.

“Don’t be.” 

At the door, Paris entered a combination before stepping inside. She pulled off her shoes and motioned for Rory to do the same.

Rory hummed, “I would’ve thought there would be someone to open the door for you.”

As if on cue, one of Paris’ maids came to the entrance of the mudroom. 

“Ms. Geller, welcome home. Would you like a snack, or a glass of water?” she asked.

“No, thank you, Alberta.” Paris said, “Rory, come.”

Rory smiled at the maid as she followed Paris through the house. Paris led Rory through the house into the study in the back. The study had always been her favorite, ever since she was a little girl. The long mahogany table, and the bookshelves which lined the wall had always brought her a sense of peace. Since her dad moved out, the study was never used, which she enjoyed, as it meant she could use the room without worry of being interrupted. 

“I would offer you food, but we don't have any of the junk you normally eat.” Paris said, as she set her bag down on the table.

“That’s alright, I always carry food with me.” Rory answered, and then, “You really have no snacks in your house?”

“No. I’m not supposed to eat food with high sugar content.”

“How sad. If you ever want to indulge into the world of sugar, hit me up.”

“Will do. Sit down, let’s start studying.” Paris said, pulling up a chair.

“Yes, ma’am.” Rory gave her a mock salute. Heat flooded Paris’ cheeks. She looked down at her binder and tried to will her face to return to normal.

A knock on the door pulled Paris’ attention up. The door opened to reveal Alberta standing by the opening.

“Ms. Geller? Madeline and Louise are here. Should I send them to the study?”

Paris nodded at her, and Alberta turned and left. 

Rory turned to Paris, “You invited Madeline and Louise?”

“Well, why not? I figured they could use all the help they could get. You know, when they apply themselves, they're actually smart.”

“No, yeah, I just,” a wave of disappointment came across Rory’s face, “I thought it would be just us.”

“They won’t slow us down.” Paris assured her. She wasn’t expecting Rory to be so upset over this, Madeline and Louise were fine study partners. “At least, not too much.”

Rory smiled at Madeline and Louise as they entered the study. Madeline smiled warmly as she sat down on the other side of the table, opposite Rory. Louise sat beside her.

“I think this is the first time you actually invited us to your house.” Madeline said.

“That never seemed to bother you. You just show up anyways.” Paris replied.

“Yeah, well, you love it.” Louise grinned.

Paris muttered, “I wouldn’t say I love it.” 

“Paris never has anyone over. Like ever. You’re the first.” Madeline told Rory.

“Wonder why that would be.” Louise said quietly, biting back a smirk.  Paris glared at her. Paris knew she wasn’t great at hiding her feelings. She must really suck at it though, if Louise was able to figure out what took Paris a good two years to realize.

“Okay, can everyone stop talking about me like I’m not here? This isn’t Paris Geller Q&A time.” Paris scowled. “And I’ve invited people over before.”

Madeline laughed, “No, you haven’t.”

“Paris has never exactly been a people person.” Louise supplied.

“Shocking,” Rory laughed, and then slung an arm over Paris’ shoulder, “We love her anyway.”

Paris tensed at the physical contact. She wasn’t used to it, and part of her wanted to push Rory’s arm off of her. Another part of her wanted to lean into the touch, become as close to Rory as possible. She felt stuck in a daze, unsure of how to proceed. She didn’t have to decide what to do in the end, as Rory removed her hand to take out her notebook from her bag.

“Okay,” Rory flipped open her notebook, “Let’s do this.”

Paris shook her head to try and clear her head. “I have flashcards.” She said.

She pulled the stack from her binder, each index card covered in small, neat letters.

“Describe the characteristics of an enzyme’s active site which allows it to catalyze specific chemical reactions.” Paris read off the card.

“It can bond to a specific substrate or amino acid because the shape is compatible.” Rory answered, almost immediately.

“Or?”

“Or, induced fit stresses bonds so a reaction can occur, or the site positions the amino acid in a way that the reaction occurs.”

Paris turned to the next flashcard, “What are the functions of ribosomes?”

“Oh! I know this!” Madeline exclaimed, “Translation, and protein synthesis.”

Paris nodded, slightly impressed, “Wow, you know the material.”

Rory hit Paris on the shoulder, “Don’t be mean, Paris.”

Slowly, they made their way through the flashcards. At some point Madeline had taken over asking the questions, because Paris had begun answering before she read the question aloud. They were about three quarters of their way through the cards when Paris began to lose focus.

Under the table, Rory’s knee was pressed against her own. She wasn’t sure when they had gotten so close. Across from her, Louise was saying something, but she couldn’t make out the actual words. Her head seemed fuzzy, and when she tried to bring her attention back to the conversation, every nerve dragged her back to the way Rory’s leg was touching hers.

“Paris? Hello?” 

Paris looked up abruptly, pulling her leg away from Rory’s. Madeline and Rory were looking at her with matching expressions, though she couldn’t tell what exactly the expression was. Louise was smiling widely, looking amused.

“Paris,” Madeline said, “Ready for the next one?”

Paris swallowed. Her throat felt dry and her cheeks were burning. “I’m gonna go get water.” 

“Me too.” Louise said, standing. Madeline gave her a look, “I’ll be gentle. I promise.”

Paris left the study and began towards the kitchen, Louise walking alongside her. In the kitchen she took down a glass and filled it up from the cooler. As she drank, she felt Louise’s eyes on her.

“What?” She demanded, setting the glass down.

Louise was sitting on the island in the center of the kitchen, her feet swinging slightly, which reminded Paris of Rory.

“You and Rory got very close.” Louise began.

“So?”

“That must be nice for you. You don’t need to spend as much time staring at her.”

Paris scowled, “I don't spend time staring at her.”

“Yeah, right.” Louise laughed, “You spent so much time just glowering at her and talking about her. I thought you would never get your shit together.”

“What are you getting at?” Paris asked. Louise was getting awfully close to the matter at hand. She really needed to get better at hiding her facial expressions, Paris thought.

“Nothing!” Louise said, “Nothing, it’s just, it’s good. She likes you too, you know. You should go for it, lean into it.”

Paris turned Louise’s words over in her head. It seemed absurd, the idea that Rory Gilmore might like her back. Still, Paris had in the past missed when people were flirting with her. It was theoretically possible, maybe. But then again, indulging in this fantasy would only hurt Paris further in the end, when Rory inevitably rejected her. 

“You’re wrong.” Paris said, putting her glass in the sink.

Louise raised her eyebrows at her, “About what?”

“All of it.” Paris answered, “Whatever you’re thinking. You’re wrong.”

Louise shrugged, and slid off the island counter, “Okay.”

She headed back to the study, and Paris followed her. At the table, Rory was testing Madeline using Paris’ flashcards. 

“Oh, Paris.” Madeline said, upon seeing Paris and Louise return, “Do you have the last test? I was going over it and I can’t figure out why I got this question wrong.” Madeline pushed the test towards her, pointing out the question which was marked in red.

“Yeah, upstairs. In my room.”

“Can you get it?” Madeline asked, “Please?”

“Yeah, I’ll get it.”

Madeline threw her arms up, “Yay, thank you!”

“I’ll come too,” Rory said, standing up, “I wanna see your room.” 

Paris looked from Madeline to Rory, and then back to Madeline, who was now giving her a thumbs up. Next to her, Louise nodded, a smug look painted across her face.

“Okay.” Paris left the study, and led Rory upstairs. She entered her room, Rory at her heels. 

“It’s somewhere in here.” Paris said, searching through the stack of papers on her desk.

Rory hummed in response, and out of the corner of her eye, Paris could see Rory looking around her room. Paris was suddenly self aware. She had been in Rory’s room before; the walls were lined with posters, and pictures, small knicknacks lined the corner of her bookshelves. Rory’s room was bright, and personal. In comparison, Paris’ room looked like a hotel room. Besides the three framed photos above her bed, there were no decorations, and she hadn’t even picked out those pictures herself. Her room featured a queen bed, a dresser, a desk, and some bookshelves. She regularly enjoyed the serenity which came with an uncluttered, minimalistic room, but with Rory there she felt self conscious.

She found the last test they took, a big 99 written on top in red ink. She was still pissed about that; she had deserved a 100.

“Found it.” Paris said, turning around, where she was met with the site of Rory sitting on her bed.

“Your bed’s comfortable,” Rory said, “I like it.”

Paris wasn’t sure she was breathing right. Rory was sitting on her bed. For some reason, that fact sent Paris’ mind racing at about a million miles a second. She needed to ground herself, Rory had said something to her. She  was supposed to answer, Paris realized.

“Yeah,” Paris didn’t know how to respond, “Why are you on my bed?”

Rory shrugged in response, “Wanted to.”

“Oh, right. Okay.” Paris answered hesitantly. She sat down carefully beside Rory on the edge of her bed.

“I like your room. Feels very you.” Rory said, “Well, maybe a more placid version of you.”

Paris didn’t respond, just kept her gaze on Rory.

“Paris, I-” Rory ducked her head, “This may be weird and totally unreciprocated, so you can just tell me and I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

Rory sighed, “I like you, Paris.”

“I like you too?” Paris was confused, she thought Rory knew that she considered them friends. “I wouldn’t let you into my house if I didn’t.”

“No, yeah, that’s not what I meant.” Rory was looking at Paris, intensely. 

Paris furrowed her brows, now thoroughly lost.

Rory laughed, though it didn’t sound fully genuine, “C’mon Paris. You can’t seriously be this dense.”

Paris squared her shoulders, slightly offended, “I’m not being dense, you’re just being vague.”

“I like you, Paris.” Rory repeated, “Like, romantically.”

Paris turned back to Rory, eyes wide. She wanted to tell her that, yes, she absolutely reciprocated, but the only thing she could manage was, “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

Paris searched Rory’s face for a sign of insincerity. The last time someone told her they liked her it had been a dare, and Paris was left devastated. Paris wasn’t particularly good at reading facial expressions, but Rory seemed sincere. 

Maybe it was because Rory was looking at her, eyes full of hope, or maybe it was because she’d been studying for too long, but something pushed Paris closer. She wasn’t even really sure how it happened, a lean forward, and then a crashing of bodies together, and she was kissing Rory.

Paris had exactly three kisses in her life. The first was with Tristin in fifth grade, when his friends had dared him to. That had started her six year long infatuation with him. The second was with Tristin as well, after Rory set them up on a date. It was a short kiss, which left Paris feeling nothing except excited about having kissed someone. The third was this past summer, when she went out with someone she met in DC, Jamie. He was nice, and they had a fine time together, but the relationship didn’t go anywhere, and the kiss left her feeling bored. Ok lock in mode

This was nothing like her previous experiences. The feeling of Rory’s lips pressed against her own left her whole body burning. Rory’s lips were unbelievably soft, and tasted slightly of vanilla. Rory moved her arms so they were resting on Paris’ shoulders, her hands against the back of Paris’ neck. Paris wanted to sit in this moment forever, to be eternally entwined with Rory Gilmore, but then Rory pulled away quickly, and the warmth was gone. Paris blinked slowly, dazed and confused, when a small noise drew her attention upward. In the doorway stood Madeline, who looked slightly uncomfortable. Rory had moved so far away that she was practically falling off the bed. 

“Um. Hi, Rory, your mom called. She wanted me to let you know she was coming to pick you up in half an hour.” Madeline said. 

“Yeah, okay.” Rory looked terrified. She got up from the bed and virtually ran downstairs, leaving Paris alone in her room. Paris stared at the white and blue carpeting, all too aware of Madeline standing in the doorway.

“Are you okay?”

Paris looked up at Madeline, who was still standing in the doorway, chewing on her bottom lip. She didn’t answer, just returned her gaze to the floor. She watched as Madeline’s shoes got closer to her, until they were right beside her. 

Madeline sat down next to Paris, “I’m sorry.”

Paris wanted to cry. Her entire body screamed in hurt. Madeline rested her head on Paris’ shoulder. Normally she would move away from the touch, but right then Paris appreciated it.

Rory pulled her backpack over her shoulders as she left class. Paris hadn’t been in AP government or math, which was strange, because Paris never missed school. She found Madeline and Louise by their lockers, and walked up to them. 

“Have you guys seen Paris?”

Louise shut her locker, "She's not here today.”

Rory looked from Louise to Madeline who was wearing a stoney expression. 

“Is she sick?” She asked.

“No.” Louise said as she began to walk away. Madeline followed closely behind, which left Rory by herself in the hallway. 

Rory cursed under her breath. They must’ve figured out what happened, or at least something along the lines of it, (Rory doubted that Paris would’ve told them everything.) While she and Paris had a brief fight earlier in the year, courtesy of Francie, Rory hadn’t been on bad terms with Madeline and Louise since the beginning of last year. Rory was never particularly social; she didn’t mind sitting at home alone every now and again, in fact she rather enjoyed it. But being iced out was different, she had gotten used to the comfort of having friends at Chilton, and the idea of reverting back to her sophomore year was not fun. Rory headed to her classroom. That would have to be dealt with later, she had a test to take.

Rory sat down at her desk and took a deep breath. Despite the incident at Paris’ house, she actually got quite a lot of studying done. With a second review at her house, and a quick refresher this morning, she felt perfectly prepared for the test. She completed the multiple choice questions quickly, and began on the writing part of the test. Unfortunately, this was when Rory’s brain decided to completely give out, and stray to other matters.

She had decided yesterday, without thinking too much about what it meant sexuality-wise because it made her head hurt, to tell Paris how she felt. Madeline and Louise were clearly meant to act as a safeguard, which caused Rory to rethink her decision. It hadn't mattered in the end though. Alone with Paris in her room, she had worked up the courage. Rory prided herself on knowing Paris rather well, but she had genuinely no idea how Paris would react. Needless to say, she was overjoyed when Paris had kissed her. Paris, unsurprisingly, kissed like everything else she did: intensely, ambitiously, and slightly shyly. It was electric, and she had felt lightning pulsing through her veins. 

And then she had heard footsteps, and she jumped away to find Madeline staring at the door. It’s not that she didn’t want to be kissing Paris, but the thought of being caught was utterly terrifying. She never liked making out in public, even with Dean. With Paris it seemed unthinkable.

So, she had left, in a hasty manner, without thinking too much about how Paris must’ve felt. Neither Paris nor Madeline came downstairs after she left Paris’ room. Rory was left sitting silently in the study while Louise gave her looks until her mom came to pick her up. At home, she debated calling Paris, and actually dialed her number twice before immediately hanging up. She had sat nervously in her room, hoping Paris would call, and simultaneously wishing she wouldn’t. And now, they hadn’t had a chance to talk things out, and Paris missed the biology test because she didn’t come to school. 

“Twenty five minutes left. You should have begun your short answers by now.”

Shit. Rory was removed from her thoughts by the teacher’s warning, and quickly returned to her test. She needed to plan these emotional crises better.

During lunch, Rory figured she’d better clear the air with Madeline and Louise. She wasn’t sure when she would next talk to Paris, and she didn’t want to be on bad terms with them until then. She began towards the lunchroom, where she spotted Louise and Madeline sitting at a table in the back. It felt strange to see them there without Paris. Rory walked hesitantly up to their table.

Rory cleared her throat, and they looked up at her, wearing twin expressions.

“Hi,” she began.

“Hi,” Louise answered.

“Listen, I’m not sure how much Paris told you.”

“She didn’t tell us anything.” Madeline said.

“Right,” Rory fidgeted with her hands nervously, “I just- I wanted to say that I didn’t mean to hurt her, or anything.”

Madeline chewed on her bottom lip, a habit Rory had recently noticed she did frequently. 

Louise stood up, grabbing her bag, “Intentions don't always matter, do they?”

Rory watched as she left, and then turned back to Madeline, who sighed.

“I don’t know exactly what went down between you two,” she said, “but you screwed up. Bad. She really cared about you. She still does. I don't want our senior year to end off on bad terms. You need to fix this.” Madeline took her bag, and left the lunchroom, leaving Rory alone, once again.

Rory never cut school, never even thought about it. Now, standing alone in the lunchroom, she couldn’t fathom sitting through the last three periods of the day. She headed to the office, made up some excuse about a doctor’s appointment (which surprisingly worked), and walked to the bus stop. She took out her CD player, and rummaged through her bag for CDs. She found David Bowie, The Bangles, and The Smiths. Rory looked at the dark green cover of The Queen is Dead. Definitely The Smiths.

By the time Rory got home, her mom was already sitting in the kitchen, looking over some paperwork.

Lorelai looked up in surprise, “You’re home early.”

“So are you.” Rory said as she set down her bag and pulled up a chair.

“Yeah, light afternoon at the inn, headed home to do some paperwork. Fun!”

Rory crossed her arms on the table and set her head down heavily on them. The darkness felt fitting.

“You okay, kid?” Rory heard her mother ask. 

Rory looked up to meet Lorelai’s gaze. Her eyes burned as tears gathered in her eyes.

“I think I really messed up.”

“Oh, honey,” Lorelai wrapped her arm around Rory, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I screwed up,” Rory cried, “and now I don't know how to fix it.”

“Well, there’s nothing that can't be undone. Even if you killed someone, then we would just have to make a Frankenstein.” Lorelai said.

Rory corrected her, “It’s Frankenstein's monster.”

“There’s my girl. C’mon, tell me what happened.”

Rory sighed and tried to imagine explaining the situation to her mom. The words I kissed Paris floated around in her head, bouncing like the DVD logo on a tv screen. Lorelai was looking at her intently, waiting for her response, but she couldn’t bring herself to say it. She shook her head weakly and looked down.

“Okay,” Lorelai stood up and headed towards the fridge, “We don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to.” She pulled open the freezer door and brandished a fresh pint of Ben & Jerry’s. “We have ice cream.”

So, Rory sat with her mother on the couch, watching I Love Lucy reruns and eating caramel cone ice cream from the pint. She wasn’t paying much attention to the sitcom, but it did a fine job of numbing some of the pain.

She did not want to be there, at all. If it were up to Paris, she would still be lying in her bed, watching Italian soap operas she only kind of understood, while her nanny tried to get her to talk. But, her mom had scolded her that morning for wasting her father’s hard earned money by rotting away in bed, so in Chilton she was. She had successfully avoided Rory all morning, ducking past her in the halls and avoiding eye contact in class, and after snapping at Madeline and Louise a few times they got the hint and left her alone. While they made for a good distraction, Paris wanted to spend her day brooding. She deserved it, after all.

Despite her best efforts, she was having trouble moving on. It was preposterous the way a single kiss seemed to interfere with her ability to function in society as a normal person. Considering it was clearly never going to happen again, Paris really needed to get over it. Even though she knew that she shouldn’t be this devastated, Paris still felt like shit. She was more irritable than normal, which was an impressive feat, considering that Paris was always highly irritable. She did applaud her good fortune though, which put her and Rory on a different lunch schedule for that day.

But, her good luck could only last so long, so she wasn’t all that surprised when Rory managed to corner her in a hallway sometime after lunch.

“Paris, everything okay? You weren't in school yesterday.” Rory noted.

“No, I wasn’t.”

“You missed the bio test. You never missed a test before.”

Paris looked at her blankly, “First time for everything.”

“Hey, are you upset with me?” Rory asked, tugging at her backpack straps.

“Is there a reason I should be upset at you?” Paris answered, trying to keep her expression blank.

“I just wanted-” 

“Just leave me alone, Gilmore.” Paris said as she stormed off. This interaction, she knew, would tilt her even further from her normal axis. 

On her best days Hunter exasperated her, on her worse days, Paris was about one word away  from throwing her textbook in his face. She wasn’t listening all too much to his lecture, her mind troubled by other matters, but he annoyed Paris nonetheless. They were reading Hamlet, though reading was an exaggeration. They had barely made any progress in the last two weeks, and Hunter had an irritating habit of skipping over monologues he thought were “unimportant.” It was one of these remarks that set Paris off.

“Absolute moron.” Paris muttered to herself.

“Ms. Geller,” Hunter said, looking up from his playbook, “Do you have something to share with the class?”

“Yes, actually.” On another day Paris might’ve moved on. Today was not that day, “I was just saying how moronic it is to skip over parts of the play. I mean, what, do you think Shakespeare was just adding the scenes for the shits and giggles? And by the way, you shouldn’t be making any decisions anyway. You’re barely literate, half of your so-called ‘analyses’ are just a babble of random words. I mean, my fifth grade cousin would make a better English teacher than you!”

“Paris, maybe you should-” Rory began.

“Yeah, I bet this is real fun for you, Gilmore. Getting to see me all worked up. Planning on running again?” Paris said, turning to Rory.

Rory rolled her eyes, “Here we go.” 

“Enough!” Hunter practically shouted, “Ms. Geller take a walk, Ms. Gilmore, talk to me after class please.”

“Fine.” Paris threw her bag over her shoulder and stalked out of the room, letting the door slam shut behind her.

“I have to say, I’m very disappointed to see you both in my office again.” The headmaster said as he sat down. Hunter had sent Paris and Rory to the principals office after class, after lecturing them both about "proper classroom etiquette" and all that. “The president and vice president of the student government, the two highest ranking students in your grade, in my office, for the second time this year. I thought you two had worked this out.”

Paris stared at her hands in her lap. She wondered if Rory was looking at the headmaster, or if she was also looking down. Then she scoffed for wondering about Rory, who Paris should’ve stopped thinking about as soon as she ran away two days ago.

“Paris, this is not the first time you’ve been written up for being disrespectful, nor is it the first time you’ve been written up for creating an argument with a classmate.” The headmaster continued.

“Sir, I wasn’t being disrespectful,” Paris said, looking up, “I just called out the shitty curriculum you call an education.”

“Miss Geller, that is enough! This type of behavior is not what I expected from either of you, nor will I allow it in my school.”

“Sorry, sir.” Rory responded quietly.

The headmaster resumed, “Now, it’s been suggested to me that I should suspend the both of you, and I must say, I was tempted to agree.” 

"Of course you were." Paris rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “Spineless white-haired path-”

“Paris, are you muttering again?”

“No, sir.” 

“I have a meeting in five minutes. The two of you will stay here and work through what needs to be worked through, or come to an amicable agreement. You will both be given a citation, and will be marked as absent, unexcused, for the next two classes. When I return I expect both of you to have apologized, and then you will go back to class.” The headmaster finished. Then he rose from his chair, and exited the room, leaving Paris and Rory alone.

They sat mutely for quite some time. The silence was so loud, Paris wanted to jump out a window to avoid the crushing weight of it. Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore, and before she fully knew what she was saying, she was speaking.

“I’m sorry I kissed you.”

Rory looked up from the table, “What?”

“I get it, you were in a weird mood, we were studying for too long, and you didn’t mean it.” Paris said, “Let’s just forget anything ever happened and move on.”

“Paris, what are you talking about?” Rory asked.

“In my room? Nothing happened anymore. You never told me anything, I never did anything.” Paris was very aware of the strange look Rory was giving her, but she had no idea what it meant, or, more importantly, what to do about it.

Rory shook her head, “I’m sorry, I think I’m having a stroke. Are you really suggesting we just pretend nothing ever happened?”

“Well, you’re clearly not happy that I kissed you, so let’s just ignore it. It never happened. There, now we can go back to how it was before.”

“Oh my god, you’re the one who won’t talk to me!” Rory exclaimed, jumping up from her seat.

“You jumped away like I stabbed you,” Paris answered, “What did you want me to do?”

Rory faltered, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“And then you ran away.”

“I was scared,” Rory said.

“Yeah, no shit.” Paris slumped back down in her seat.

Rory sighed, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I should’ve dealt with it then. Madeline came in and I got freaked out. It’s just, it’s complicated.”

Paris looked up, “Why?”

“I’m not a lesbian!” Rory said. When Paris gave her a look she continued, “No, really I’m not. I do like you. I really like you, but I also liked Dean. Didn’t you feel the same with Tristin?”

“No.”

“Okay, well, great.”

“I mean,” Paris began, “I did want to date him, but I think it was just because I wanted to date. I didn’t really care about him. Not the way I care about you, anyway.” 

Rory grinned, “You care about me?”

“Well, obviously.” Paris rolled her eyes.

“Aww, you care about me!”

“Shut it, Gilmore.”

“I know all your secrets,” Rory teased, “You’re not as mean as you let people think.”

Paris got up from her seat, “I’m leaving now.”

“Okay, wait,” Rory grabbed Paris’ wrist and turned her around, “I’m sorry.”

Paris scoffed, “You don't seem sorry, you’re grinning like an idiot.” 

“I’m happy,” Rory smiled, “You’re sweet.”

“That’s a new one.” Paris wasn’t sure if anyone had ever called her sweet in her life, and she was trying to decide whether it was meant to be an insult or a compliment, when Rory leaned in and kissed her. Paris immediately lost her train of thought, because well, it’s hard to focus when Rory Gilmore is kissing you.

“You are sweet.” Rory said when she pulled away.

Paris tried to school her face, but she was certain she was smiling like a moron.

“So does this mean we’re together?” Paris asked, before immediately regretting it, “Well, I mean, if that’s what you want. If it’s not, don’t worry, because it doesn’t really matter anyways. I have to focus on school, and it would just be a distraction, really. So, never mind, we’re both trying to get to Harvard and-”

“Paris.” Rory grabbed Paris’ hand, “I do want us to be together.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” Rory confirmed, “But do you mind if we keep it just between us, just for now? I don’t think I’m ready to, I don’t know, go public, or whatever.”

Paris nodded, “That’s fine. Not forever though, right?”

Rory laughed, “No, not forever. Just for a little bit.”

“I’m okay with that,” Paris said, "Although I'm pretty sure Madeline and Louise already know. Don’t ask me how, I really don’t know.”

“Oh, they for sure know. Madeline hinted, not so subtly, that I should talk to you.” Rory tilted her head, “Maybe they really are psychic.”

“Please,” Paris scoffed, “If they were psychic they could do a shit ton better at school.”

“Don’t be mean, Paris,” Rory chided, “I think, maybe, neither one of us are great at hiding our emotions.”

Paris nodded, “Yeah, Louise told me I had to, and I quote,  ‘Get my shit together.’”

“Well, we kinda needed to,” Rory said. Paris watched her carefully, she was suddenly overcome with the desire to kiss Rory. It was then that she remembered that she could; she could kiss Rory anytime she liked. So she did.