Working Title: None
Character(s)/Pairing(s): Rory/Other, Rory/Jess, Rory/Logan implied
Disclaimer: Just the fic, not the show.
Summary: A college rave she never told her boyfriend about. Post-series. Incomplete.
Author’s Note: I don’t know how I came up with this. And I have no idea where I was going with it. Here’s another unfinished ficlet. Sorry for any mistakes.
The music pounds in Rory’s ears, deafening her from the sound of glasses shattering against the glossy, cement floor.
Were the ceilings not so high, she would have easily mistaken this space for a four-car garage.
The flyers she found before tonight announced a night of ‘fun, music and dancing’. Then again, a college party can never be amounted to such. There is awaiting alcohol, as well as microphones ready for embarrassment and perverted men luring beautiful women into their sex-addicted clutches.
Honestly, she has never had this much fun. And with her boyfriend in London and her newly-acquired friends turned against her, Rory cannot find anything better than to waste a weekend in an all-night dance club.
“So, what’s your name?” her partner yells almost inaudibly as his fingers dance across the hem of her halter top.
Looking up, Rory feels a smile spread across her face. “Rory,” she replies simply, enjoying the feel of his body pressed against hers.
Nodding, “Keith. Where ya from?”
Blinking back confusion, she shakes her head discreetly and responds with, “What do you mean?” Damn alcohol, she blames.
“What school do you go to?” Keith clarifies, head dropping to her shoulder. His breath tickles her skin and Rory lightly digs her fingers into the flesh of his arms.
“Yale,” she laughs sweetly, trailing her hands up his sides to his shoulders and hooking them behind his neck.
“Lorelai Gilmore?” he wonders, pulling her closer, his lips brushing the angle of her jaw and tongue flicking at her skin.
Inhaling shakily, Rory turns her head and catches his smoky, green eyes through the haze produced by the fog machine. “Should I be?”
“Do you have a boyfriend?”
Knees buckling, Rory grips at Keith’s shoulders and stares at him daringly. “No.”
“Then no,” he whispers, licking his lips as she continues to cling to his buff frame.
Maybe it’s the music, she muses. Or the consumption of alcohol. Or the momentary lapse of judgment when that guy offered me a Coke.
It evades her, however, why she would lie so openly about a man she allegedly loves.
See, the fact that a handsome man named Keith is dancing with her cannot be the only existing reason. Maybe it’s the lack of communication or the lack of affection. Hell, possibly the nights spent cyber-sexing have drained her so of her emotions that she needs to feel something real for the first time in a long time.
So when Keith brings her to a private, family bathroom in the back of the club and attacks her, Rory doesn’t protest. She duels with him quite easily, nails tickling the skin of his stomach underneath his polo shirt as his fingers inch the cloth of her top over her breasts.
He pushes her into the wall, not noticing when she yelps into his mouth at the contact of her elbow against the brick. It almost makes her want to cease this before it goes further.
Moans arise in Rory’s throat as Keith’s mouth latches around her nipples and his fingers push her denim miniskirt off her hips, into a heap that pools around her bare feet (she’d discarded her heels long ago). She feels him protrude as her nimble hands unlatch the button of his jeans and smiles.
It’s been too long since she’s aroused anyone that even a moan can delight her in a special way.
Becoming aggressive, he bites her. Another moan is his answer.
Now all clothes are discarded, littering the floor of the cramped room, and Rory is wrapped around Keith’s waist as he folds the tip of his condom over blindly. His lips are massaging hers and she can feel herself buck against him as he finally thrusts.
“Oh, God,” Rory moans, fingers raking through his blond hair and breasts pressed into his chest. She urges for a more comfortable position.
She derives her own satisfaction by rubbing the soles of her feet against his bare butt and biting the tongue that darts into her mouth.
“Don’t,” he pants, hands gripping her waist and holding her to the wall. It’s obvious she’s succeeded.
The only bad thing, she realizes as he packs his final blow, is the awkwardness that will set in during her final year of Political Science.
“So, how’ve you been?” Logan asks her, voice sounding tinny through the speaker of her cell phone.
Rory sighs and drops her pencil onto his desk, brushing hair away from her face in frustration. “Okay.”
“Doesn’t seem like it. You sure?”
“Yeah. Of course,” hesitating, she chews on her bottom lip guiltily. He still doesn’t know what happened last weekend. “I’m just frustrated about this essay. I can’t think.”
“We can talk later, Ace. It’s getting late over here anyway.”
“Okay,” Rory exhales, still biting her lip, and walks towards the closet.
Simply, Logan states, “I love you.”
Stunned, Rory quickly presses the ‘End’ button and holds it until the phone powers off.
He will never know.
Keith is different. He is aggravating but sweet. He is understanding but judgmental. He is forceful but weak.
At times, anyway.
Tonight is one of those nights.
It’s odd, to say the least, that Keith would even contemplate bringing her here of all places. She knows he’s originally from Pittsburgh but that doesn’t justify their current stint in a Philadelphia bar.
He’d come with the excuse of meeting an old high school buddy, one that would launch his career once he graduates at the end of the semester.
And, if she isn’t mistaken, Keith is leading him to her now.
Swiftly stuffing a small handful of peanuts in her mouth, Rory turns to face the men as hers taps her shoulder.
“Rory, this is my old friend, Julian Harkoa. He’s a lawyer in the area.”
“I work with LL and Associates. Nice to meet you.” He extends a hand and Rory firmly grasps it, remembering an inane video she watched in high school on career day.
“Rory Gilmore, nice to meet you.” Exchanging smiles, she recoils subtly and moves near Keith, who wraps an arm around her bare shoulders.
“Rory’s studying Journalism at Yale. We graduate together.”
“Good, that’s good. How long have you been seeing each other?”
It’s at this point she drowns out the rest of the conversation. Three months of cheating and lying. That’s what her life has amounted to since the semester began and it’s difficult to believe.
To top it all off, it’s been so easy. So easy, in fact, that’s she’s fallen in love with yet another blond-headed man. A beautiful, blond-headed man that loves her just as equally. One that doesn’t mind being a third wheel in her life.
One that loves her just as she is, imperfections and all.
So she glances up at him, watching his jaw move and lips form words as he speaks smoothly. His fingers tap her shoulder and she wraps her arm behind his waist, wishing the other man away for a moment of intimacy.
And Julian does just that.
“Sorry about that,” Keith murmurs, looking down to find her intense gaze burning holes in his face. “What?”
She only smiles and reaches for a kiss. “Nothing.”
“Can I have another Miller?”
She’s been sitting here for two hours now. Keith is still speaking with Julian Harkoa and, to say the least, she’s frantic to leave the bar. Guys have hit on her, left and right, and she’s even been invited to bed. Meaningful glances at Keith haven’t drawn him away from his old friend and she forces herself to understand.
He’s catching up. It’s the usual thing to do when meeting someone for the first time since high school. Especially someone who plans on giving you a jumpstart.
“I think it’s time for you to cut off,’ says the bartender as he places the dark bottle on a small napkin.
Rory attempts to smile at his concern and shakes her head. “I’m still waiting for someone.”
Sighing, she slumps her shoulders and presses the bottle to her lips. The cool liquid cascades down her throat, relieving her anxiety and leaving her less aware of the intensity in her drinking.
“I’d agree but I’m not too sure you would really care.”
It’s chilling, that voice. It’s so close to imagined, she has to pinch herself in order to believe it.
The man sits beside her, flashing a lopsided grin in her direction before snapping the beer from her hands and setting it far out of her reach.
“What’re you doing here, Jess?"
“Well, other than the obvious, why are you here? Looking for the message that will never come?”
“None of your business.”
“Well, actually it is. I own a third of this bar.”
She lets her eyes size him up, looking for any change in appearance from almost a year ago. His jeans are a few sizes too large and his button-down hangs off his frame. His cheeks are hollow and Rory wonders how long ago he ate a full meal.
Her eyes snap up to meet his and she shudders at the easy roll of her name off his tongue.
“How long have you been here?”
Glancing at Keith to see that he’s still chatting with Julian, “Too long.”
From the corner of her eye, she watches him trail her gaze. “Not the monkey, huh?”