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"So I haven't met the Senator, but I did get a few minutes with his speech writer."
"That's a step in the right direction. Besides, there is a lot of material there, considering how well known he is for his speeches."
Rory nodded, tightening her grip around her coffee cup, letting the heat warm her hands. The nice thing about Paris was that, unlike her mom or other Stars Hollow residents who wanted to constantly be positive, which she did appreciate, she would tell it how it was and not pull her punches.
"He's our age though," Rory said, wincing, honest in a way she wouldn't be with anyone else. "Or not that much older, and he's working side by side by a man who could be our next President, while I'm jumping from motel to motel trying to get attention in between all the people from the Washington Post or the New York Times."
Paris wrinkled her nose. "Do you want to change careers and become a speechwriter? It's not that much of a jump."
"No." Rory's eyes drifted to behind Paris, staring out the large windows of the cafe they were in. "I just feel like I should be doing ... more already."
"Rory." The tone of her voice had Rory meeting her gaze again. "You can't compare yourself to others."
"You're saying that? You?" Rory let out an incredulous laugh. "We're not that far removed from school. Or I guess, you're still in it. You can't tell me you're not looking at all your med school classmates and thinking 'competition'."
"I compare myself to people in my own specialty," Paris said practically. "Not every single person my age. At least not anymore. There are teenagers graduating college or child prodigies on the verge of becoming the next Mozart. It'll drive you nuts if you think about it too much."
"Wow, that definitely makes me feel better."
"I am not trying to make you feel better." Paris took a sip of her coffee. "I'm telling you how it is." She peered into Rory's expression. "Are you happy? Despite the terrible motels and the high speed life for limited benefits?"
"With the way you describe it ..." Rory let out a small laugh and considered the question. "I guess I am. It's a lot of hard work, but I've never been afraid of that. It's an interesting life and it is a way to pursue what I love."
"There you go," Paris said triumphantly, leaning back into her chair.
"I just wonder if I had made different choices, I would be further along," Rory admitted.
"If you made different choices, you could have also ended up married in California," Paris reminded her. Rory winced at the reference. "Do you regret that?"
"No." That was stated emphatically. As much as she missed Logan in the early days of their split, she wasn't ready for marriage, then or now.
"There you go. Now it is the people back over at Pleasantville you're concerned about, I'm sure they'll support you on no matter what. You don't have to be Anderson Cooper right away." Paris paused. "Or in your case, Christiane Amanpour."
Rory smiled, despite herself. Paris always did know how to get to the heart of the matter and read her too well. "I guess you're right."
"I know I am."
The waitress returned, refilling their coffee, and assuring them their food would be out soon.
"Now," Paris said, "If you're the one unhappy, then all you can do is change it yourself."
"Your girlfriend is right," the waitress chipped in. "That's good advice."
"Thank you," Paris said, before Rory could deny the claim that they were together, and the waitress was gone. "See, even she knows."
"She also thought you were my girlfriend." That suggestion left Rory feeling unsettled in a way she couldn't understand or put into words. She was a journalist! Words were supposed to be her thing.
Paris blinked a few times. "Oh, she meant girlfriend in that sense. Huh." She tilted her head. "Do you think it's the hair?"
Rory took in Paris's shorter hair, which had taken her by surprise when she first saw her earlier that day, and shrugged. "I don't think there are any signs. Besides, your haircut suits you." An understatement really; Paris had always been pretty, but the new style really emphasized her features and it evoked feelings that Rory couldn't quite name just yet (and maybe didn't want to).
"It certainly is easier to take care of," Paris replied, tossing her head, but she looked pleased at the compliment. "When I was younger, I wanted to cut it short but my mother insisted that I keep it long, because it was more 'lady like', and I just used to it." She frowned. "It was nice to keep me warm in the winter. Now I need a thicker scarf."
She laughed. "Do you regret not going to California? I don't think you need scarves if you chose Stanford."
"Don't even joke about that," Paris warned, lifting a finger and pointing it at Rory in a threatening manner. She looked over at where the waitress disappeared. "But really, it's not like we've been making out over here or giving any intense UST."
"Paris!" Rory blushed.
"What?" Paris didn't seem the least bit remorseful. "Maybe it's you. You just look like a Disney Princess and they just assume that the rest of us are your adoring suitors, gender notwithstanding."
"Paris." Rory fought the urge to put her head in her hands, ignoring the remark about her looks.
"I should ask her." Paris got that look of determination her face, which spelled second hand embarrassment in Rory's near future.
"Please don't."
Paris let out a long sigh, seeming put out. "Fine. I won't."
"Clearly you haven't brought Doyle here," Rory said, trying to lighten the mood.
"No." Paris frowned. "I only go to these ridiculous cutesy places with you and you know that."
"Well, I appreciate it," Rory said. "How is that going? With Doyle?"
"It's going," Paris said, sounding a little too nonchalant. "He's busy, I'm busy. We may reconvene for Christmas. I suppose you're heading home."
"Yeah, I'll have a couple of days off." Rory was already excited about the prospect, having missed Thanksgiving. "If you have some time, you should come by."
"I'll see how it goes."
Rory took the answer at face value and nodded. Just then their food did arrive and it was a different server who brought the food so Paris couldn't interrogate them, even if she wanted to. By the time their waitress did come back, Paris had clearly moved on and wasn't bothered.
Seeing her did remind Rory of the comment though. She wondered what other people saw; Rory had always looked at Paris as one of her best friends, but as a couple? Sure, Paris had kissed her quickly on Spring Break all those years ago, but it had been too quick to really register. That didn't mean anything.
Don't let a comment get to you, she thought, chiding herself internally.
"Rory? Are you listening?"
Rory nodded instinctively and then shook her head. "Sorry, I missed that. What did you say?"
Paris repeated herself, mild irritation in her tone, and Rory made sure to stay present in the conversation, pushing those thoughts out of her mind. She was just going to enjoy her time with her friend and some waitress's assumptions wasn't going to get to her.
It should be easy enough.
Right?
The next time, she saw Paris in person was a few months later. While they kept in touch through emails, text messages, and the occasional phone call, they hadn't gotten a chance to see one another, especially since Paris hadn't made it out over to Stars Hollow for Christmas. Rory was excited for that to change. After all those years in close proximity, the truth was that Rory missed seeing Paris on a consistent basis. Outside her Stars Hollow life, Paris had been her constant and she liked being around her.
So when she was in New York and had a rare weekend off, she made it over to Boston. Ever since Paris casually admitted she and Doyle had recently split a couple of weeks prior, Rory wanted to check in on her. Even a phone call couldn't replicate an in person visit. Paris had generously offered to let Rory crash with her and she had taken her up on it.
Paris was busy with school and Rory had to do some research regarding her next article, so they weren't exactly living life in the fast lane in that aspect, but Rory found that a night in was what she preferred. With Paris, the silence was comfortable, the two of them working around one another like they were used to. She wanted to check in with Paris on how she was really doing, but was waiting for the right time to bring it up.
"I'm fine, Rory," Paris said, out of the blue, after she had snuck another glance over at Paris, who was supposed to be glued to her book.
Apparently she wasn't that subtle.
"What?"
Paris looked over at her. "You have been waiting to ask how heartbroken I am over my breakup. I'm fine."
"Am I that obvious?"
"You do bring to life the phrase 'wear your heart on your sleeve'," Paris said, setting aside her book. "Or in this case, on your face."
"But are you? Okay?" Rory tried to decipher Paris's expression. She was pretty good at keeping up appearances but whether she knew it or not, had a way of expressing her vulnerability through her eyes. From what Rory could tell, she did seem fine though.
"Sure." Paris shrugged. "It was mutual-"
"People always say that ..."
"And it wasn't like I hadn't seen it coming. We've been growing apart since I got here and well, Christmas was awkward enough to put the metaphorical final nail in the coffin."
Rory chewed on her bottom lip. "If you want to talk-"
"You're always there," Paris finished, giving her a small smile. "I know."
"Good," Rory said, with a smile of her own. "So you both are okay?"
"As okay as we can be." Paris frowned. "Actually, he's supposed to come by tomorrow, just briefly to pick up the last of the things he left." She pointed to the box at the door. "So you can see it for yourself."
She silently wondered what that would be like, but if it wasn't an ugly breakup, it should be fine. "Okay. For now, do you want to order takeout? I'm starving."
"I'd never think to get between a Gilmore girl and her food," Paris said, standing up. "What do you want?"
They debated their choices, which turned into a comfortable night off, watching movies. Paris halfheartedly complained about taking a break, but Rory knew she needed it and they had fun together.
The following morning, Paris had to briefly go out and waved off Rory's attempts to join her, "just in case Doyle showed up."
Rory hoped that he didn't.
So of course he did.
She had gotten a stain on her sweater so she tossed it off, and feeling chilly, invaded Paris's room to borrow a sweatshirt. Paris was a little shorter than her but thankfully, bought loose hoodies. Rory found one and threw it over her head; it was a bit snug but comfortable and it smelled a little like Paris, which shouldn't give her the butterflies that it did.
A knock at the door startled and brought her back to the present. That must be Doyle. She moved reluctantly toward the sound, and checking the keyhole to confirm it was him, swung it open.
He was surprised to see her. "Rory."
"Hey, Doyle." She gave him an awkward smile and moved aside. "Come on in. Paris just stepped out, but she should be back soon."
"I just need to pick up my stuff," he said, following her in. "I am actually on a time crunch so I can't stay."
"Right," Rory said, running a hand through her hair. "Well, she left the box here." She picked it up and handed it to him. "Do you need any help carrying that out?"
"Nope," he said, without strain. "This is lighter than it looks." He hesitated. "How are you, Rory?"
"I'm good. You?" Reading him was much harder than it was with Paris, but he did seem to mean what he said.
"Fine, great even." He glanced at her and looked contemplative. "I guess you must be. I have to admit that I wasn't quite expecting this."
"Expecting what?" Rory's eyebrows furrowed, puzzled.
"I mean, I knew she would move on eventually-"
"Move on?"
"And it's not like I hadn't known Paris is bisexual-"
"Wait, she's what?"
"Not to mention that I've always thought she was little interested in you-"
"You did? Why?" Rory's voice felt like it was getting higher.
"So the the two of you ending up together makes sense," he finished. "I do want her to be happy and you've always been kind to me, Rory-"
"We're not together!" Rory blurted out, cutting him off.
Doyle paused. "But you're wearing her clothes."
"I was just borrowing it," Rory said, cheeks heating up. "I didn't- we're still friends, Doyle."
"Oh." Now it was Doyle's turn to look embarrassed. "Well, that's ... something. Can we just never bring this up again? And if you can not tell Paris, I would appreciate that."
"I won't," Rory promised. It was definitely not a conversation she wanted to have again, though some of the stuff Doyle left her with more questions than answers. "Are you okay?"
"I'll be fine." That was as close to an honest answer as she would get from him. "Take care, Rory."
"You too, Doyle," she said, hopefully sounding sincere.
Rory's heartbeat didn't calm down long after he left, the conversation she just had constantly running through her mind. Not that she had much time to get herself together, as Paris showed up not long after he left.
"I ran into Doyle so it seems as though his visit went without issue," she announced. "And-" She stopped. "Rory, are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"Just fine." She realized she sounded faint, so she cleared her throat. "Yeah, I'm good. Did you get what you needed?"
Paris nodded, not looking convinced. "Those people who work at the Xerox are morons but I'm used to it." She stared at Rory. "Is that my sweatshirt?"
"Yeah," she said, sighing at the cause of the previous confusion. "I borrowed it. I hope that's okay."
There was a flicker of something that Rory didn't recognize in Paris's eyes, but it went away too quickly for her to identify. "Totally fine." Before Rory could question it, Paris moved forward. "I'm done for the day so if you want to go out for a bit, we can. I think the ice skating rink is still open."
Rory readily agreed, and after getting refreshed and more presentable, they headed out.
Doyle's words remained at the back of her mind for the rest of her visit, and even on her train ride to her next destination. He'd always thought Paris was interested in her? What? It was one thing for some random waitress to believe they were a couple but Doyle, who had dated Paris for years and was the longest relationship her friend been in, was a whole different story.
By the time she reached her motel, she took out her clothes and realized she had accidentally taken Paris's sweatshirt with her. Holding it close, Rory breathed it in.
It still smelled like Paris.
And felt like home.
'I have a few days off. Where are you going to be?'
Rory smiled at her text and checked her calendar. 'In Stars Hollow. You should come visit.'
'Okay. I'm not making nice with everyone though.
'I wouldn't expect anything less,' Rory texted. 'But you'll make it in time for The Stars Hollow Movie Festival!'
'Don't make me change my mind, Gilmore,' came the reply and Rory grinned. Even in text messages, she still sounded like Paris.
With the election a little over six months away, Rory only got busier, but she was excited to get a chance to go home again, and Paris joining in would make it even better. The butterflies were back though. Even if she hadn't seen Paris, the other woman was on her mind a lot. Now that the thought of dating Paris had been put in her head, it refused to leave.
Whether she was going about her day, writing an article, or even debating an attractive woman at a bar, Paris was on her mind. She would come up at random times - someone at work using a certain turn of phrase, or another person having her preferred coffee order.
Rory had started to wonder what it would be like to hold her hand, or go on a date. One night, she had even awoken from a dream where Paris and she were happily married, taking the world by storm, and she was shocked at how right it felt. How much it left her with a longing for something she didn't know she could ever want.
But what did it mean? Were these her feelings or had people just gotten in her head?
Besides, who said Paris would be interested in her? Doyle could be wrong! Rory couldn't risk ruining one of her closest relationships to take a chance on something more.
When she saw Paris, things were more natural than she thought it might be. Her heart did skip a beat but when they hugged, it felt good. Right.
"I'm so glad you could make it," she said, enthusiastically. "Mom set aside a room for you at the Inn. She figured it would a little more comfortable than our couch."
"Works for me," Paris agreed.
"I still have your hoodie, by the way," Rory admitted, linking their arms, as she relieved Paris of her small suitcase.
Paris snorted. "Trust me, I know, clothing thief. I realized it was missing after you left."
"You can have it back," Rory offered, a twinge of regret, as she led them into the Dragonfly Inn.
"No, you can keep it," Paris responded. "I haven't missed it.
"Good, because it's my favorite," Rory declared. They shared smiles and dealt with an unimpressed Michel as they got Paris checked in. Lorelai was there to greet Paris shortly after and it warmed Rory's heart to see them together. Paris and Lorelai getting along so well may have been unexpected, but it made Rory happy.
Seeing Paris up close, hanging around her, did nothing to get rid of her feelings, just intensified them. She wanted to act normal, but every little touch and look fueled her feelings. So she tried to touch Paris less, and did her best not to let her gaze linger, hoping it wouldn't be noticed.
She wasn't that lucky.
Paris was quick to pick up on her change in behavior.
"All right, what is going on with you?" she asked, one day, when they were at Rory's place alone, trying to figure out how to get the movie changed for the festival.
"What do you mean?" She wasn't good at feigning innocence as she liked to believe. Maybe she could fool a strange but not someone who knew her as well as Paris did.
"You're acting ... strange," Paris sputtered. "Since I got here! What is with you? Is this because Doyle thought we were a couple?"
"He ... he told you that?" Rory felt a little betrayed. "He said he wouldn't!"
"He has a terrible poker face, Rory," Paris said patiently. "I got him to spill the day he showed up. So, is that it? You didn't bring it up when it happened so I figured it wasn't a big deal, like with the waitress."
"No, maybe." Rory swallowed hard. "You know that's not all he said."
"About my supposed crush? I know that too." This is where she saw that flicker of insecurity from Paris.
"I know he was wrong-" Rory began.
"Maybe not so much," Paris muttered.
"And you don't ... wait, what?"
"I won't deny I've had some feelings for you over the years," Paris said slowly. "But it's handled. I don't let it affect my behavior toward you and nothing has to change."
"It doesn't?"
"No," Paris said firmly.
"But ..." Here was where Rory could leave it. That would be the safest route. No one would get hurt and Rory could continue to have Paris in her life. But she didn't want safe. Rory took a deep breath and took a chance. "What if I want ... change?"
Paris looked hurt. "Rory ..."
"No, I mean, I like you, Paris."
"No you don't," was Paris's immediate response.
"I know how I feel," Rory insisted. "I've been attracted to you."
"I know you can be a bit of a people pleaser but you don't have to just say that be-"
"And I have thought about it for months-"
"Cause there is more at stake here, Rory, and you don't need to-"
"Oh My God, Paris, shut up," Rory exclaimed, and watched Paris's jaw drop. "Just ... stop talking and listen."
"You're telling me to-" Paris began, sounding indignant.
And that's when Rory kissed her.
Much to her delight, Paris froze, but eventually softened and kissed her back. That's when she knew she made the right decision. She had experienced good kisses before, but nothing like this, nothing that made her feel so complete, like she had found the piece of her she never realied she was missing. Deepening the kiss, she puled Paris into her arms, as Paris's hands entangled into Rory's hair.
Later, when they were both breathless, they pulled away, forehead resting against one another.
"Wow, so you really like me," Paris breathed.
"Yeah." Rory couldn't stop smiling if I tried. "I really do."
"Good." Then Paris kissed her again.
Rory wasn't complaining.
At the movie festival, they huddled together on one blanket, enjoying the film Paris had gotten thanks to some connections she had made. Taylor had complained about tradition, already still stinging from the one year he had lost the battle, but he was no match for Paris.
Everyone had a good time too and it was much more successful than Kirk's attempt at a movie, so he couldn't even complain.
At one point, Miss Patty passed by and gave them a warm smile. "Honey, you two look like two peas in a pod over there. Such a cute couple. Are you dating?""
Paris and Rory glanced at each other and Rory grinned at Miss Patty.
"Yeah, we are."