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chapter eleven: the funny thing is

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The next morning, with only a few hours of sleep and many more regrets under her belt, Rory is woken up by the sound of someone incessantly knocking on their door. She winces as the light from the window seems to pierce right through her head and digs the heels of her palms into her eyes as if that will make her brain stop throbbing in the confines of her skull; even in the darkness behind her eyelids, the world around her spins, and she, despite her dry throat, has to swallow to keep herself from gagging.

Rory has, in theory, been drinking her whole life. Sips from her father's whiskey or wine at a family event, or a beer now and then at a party. But this was something different entirely.

She doesn't think she's ever gotten drunk before. And, if she has, she at least had the liberty of not remembering it.

That liberty, like most, has not been afforded to her this time.

She can remember last night-- everything from Adam telling her everything Charlie just wouldn't to her telling Rick something she'd never actually told anyone else-- with an almost painful clarity.

(But, then again, that might've just been the hangover.)

"Go away!" Rachel groans. Rory has half the mind to agree with her.

"Sorry!" Lester Averman's voice, slightly muffled, comes through the door. "No can do!"

Rory opens her eyes just in time to catch Rachel's pillow before it can hit her face.

As awful as she feels for thinking so, Rory doesn't want to see her boyfriend.

She's tired. Too tired to deal with Lester and his passive-aggressive comments about her captain, and his obvious not-so-hidden doubts about her fidelity, and the fact that he just won't talk to her about it.

But he's there and knocking on her door, and she can't make him leave without starting a fight.

So, swallowing bile and pushing all of her bitter thoughts aside, Rory, not rushing, sits up in bed and drapes her legs over the side. Rachel gets up, too, as Rory gets the courage to walk to the door, pushing past her brunette roommate to make it to the bathroom; for privacy's sake, Rory presses play on Rachel's CD player and turns the volume up as she makes her way.

Les smiles at her as she emerges from behind the door. She smiles back, though the briefest dent appears between his eyebrows after he glances down at what she's wearing.

"Hi..." She says and crosses her arms over her chest.

"Hi." Les replies, extending to her a bouquet of dainty flowers. "These are for you."

Rory's frustration with him falters slightly at this and she takes them, pressing them up to her face so she can get a better whiff of their sweet scent. He smiles, still, a little more pleased now that she has accepted his gift.

"They're pretty. Thank you."

"No problem." He shrugs. "So, uh, I guess you had some fun last night?"

It's said with a broad gesture to the dress she's still wearing and the makeup that's (probably) smeared all over her face.

"Oh, uh, yeah. I guess."

"You forgot to call me."

Rory winces for a second time that morning.

"Oh, Les, I'm sorry." She sighs. "I was kinda tipsy and the party was longer than I thought it'd be. It was, like, this morning by the time Rick dropped me off and I fell asleep right after that."

Lester nods at her explanation. Her heart drops to her stomach at the way his face twists and her frustration is back, writhing in her gut. Before she can open her mouth to once again reassure him that she did not cheat on him, though, he changes the subject-- avoiding the conflict she was so willing to start.

"I'm taking you out." He declares. "Ridiculous hangover or not."

Rory, unsure, just stares at him.

She does not want to spend her day tip-toeing around him and this space between them. She also doesn't have the patience to deal with the stress that comes from worrying about how his friends will react to things. Will they drop him like yesterday's news because of his association with her? Will he blame her for that?

"Are you sure it's safe to be seen with me?"

That furrow between his brows returns for a brief moment before the realization dawns on him.

"Nobody's going to be mad at me for taking my girlfriend on a date."

Lester shoves his hands in his pockets.

He's wearing Eden Hall merchandise. A bright red hoodie that clashes with his nearly orange hair. She looks at him, and it, and swallows the bitter taste that once again rises in her throat.

"Tybalt killed Mercutio for less."

"Yeah, well, life isn't a Shakespeare play, and our petty fight that will blow over in a few weeks isn't a centuries-long family feud, so." The smile on his face almost makes her feel better. Almost. "So, go back in there, get dressed, and let's get going! My mom expects us back at the house around seven and I've got a full day planned for us."

Rory makes a face.

This will not blow over in a few weeks.

They will never forgive her. And, even if they did, she's not sure she ever will return the favor.

But, exhausted and half-sick, still dressed in last night's clothes, she's got no desire to argue with him.

"Just-- wait out here, okay?"

Averman nods. Rory disappears behind the door and presses her back against it, heaving a sigh.

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He buys her a coffee near the school and then takes her all the way to the Mill City Museum.

It's built into the ruins of what once the largest flour mill in the world. Averman also pays for their entree fee, a bold sixteen dollars that she worries too much about, and, to give him credit where it's due, sits patiently while she takes her time to eagerly soak in each and every bit of it. The exhibits about local history intrigue her (and bore him to death) and the baking lab gives all of the members of their tour a piece of bread to try. Rory manages to eat it as they mosey along and keep it down without a whole lot of effort, much to the glee of her boyfriend. It all livens her mood a great deal just in time for the last leg of their trip.

"Oh, man." Les grumbles, swaying slightly as the elevator-based attraction leaves them on a deck that overlooks almost everything.

Rory threads her arm through his and leans her head on his shoulder, hoping to soothe him. Her attention is mostly consumed by the facts being thrown at them but her actions do seem to make him stop swaying, so she takes solace in that and keeps enjoying herself while she still can.

The elevator leaves them on an observation deck which looks over most of the property.

Immediately, in the face of the near-biting cold, Rory's face scrunches.

For a brief moment, she really, really misses Greece.

"Do you want my coat?"

"No. It's fine."

Averman rolls his eyes, a playful gesture, and all but forces her to put his jacket on. She stares at him sternly the whole time, even if she was cold, but all reprimand dies on her tongue.

The last bit of the tour involves going into the ruins of the old mill.

"Did you know that pyrotechnics sometimes use flour as material for movie explosions?" She asks while they walk, her eyes dancing around the vast and opened space as they lag behind the rest of their group.

Les shakes his head. "No. I didn't. Guess the people working here didn't, either-- hey!"

She slaps him on the arm with the hand that isn't holding his. It does nothing more than make him smile a little brighter.

"So," He says a few moments later, "how's this compare to all the ruins in Greece."

"Oh, don't ask me that--"

"C'mon, I want to know!"

Truth be told, she's been to plenty of ruins of much more impressive things.

She's walked the footpaths of the Roman Forum and seen what was left of the Acropolis of Athens. When her parents were still together and she was still little, they carried her on the Great Wall of China, and there's a ludicrous picture of her at age five standing with her grandfather near the stones at Stonehenge. Rory loves history, and there's been so much of it that she's gotten to experience in her life, but this? This ruin of an old flour mill in Minnesota that exploded merely a century before her birth is something so much more meaningful to her. She wants to take pictures of this, have tangible proof of it all.

And she doesn't have the words to explain why.

"I-- it's--" Rory sighs. "They're oddly pretty."

"You're oddly pretty."

"I'm being serious, Les."

"So am I." He shrugs, smiling a little lazily. Then, without warning, his face changes so subtly at the edges that anyone else might not have noticed. "Hey, wait up a sec."

Averman lets go of her hand to hold her arm and keep her from proceeding. This allows their tour group to get a good distance away from them, and for sweat to form at her brow.

"There's something for you in the pocket of my jacket."

He gestures. She takes the hint and sticks her hand in the pocket of his jacket, pulling a little box from one of them.

"Go on. Open it."

At his urging, Rory opens it to find a necklace. The chain is dainty, thin and golden, and the pendant is a heart.

Oh, god. She thinks, glancing between him and the gift, suddenly hit by the kind of clarity that only a girl who knows him (knew him?) as well as she does (did?) and who ran away from the last boy who started a conversation with her like this. Oh, no.

"I, uh, wanted to get you that-- and the flowers from earlier-- because I, uh, know that things have been kind of rough for you lately, and I just wanted you to know, well, that I love you."

Oh, dear god.

Love.

Isn't that a scary word?

What is love?

It's a feeling. Scientifically, a mix of hormones, pheromones, and emotions.

It isn't tangible. She couldn't go to a store, ask for some love, and bring it home in a bag.

It wasn't a summer in the hills of France, curled up between rows of grapevines and beneath skies full of stars with a boy who liked to quote Austen in French. And it wasn't the frequent late nights at summer camp, hiding beneath the covers with a girl who swore to keep all her secrets, nor was it all the time she spent sitting under a tree with the girl's brother, face flushed as he talked about his plans for that day's hockey events, no matter how much she wanted it to be.

(Hell, it couldn't even be a special edition of her favorite book, one that cost him too much money and one that she left under her pillow for safekeeping. Not really, anyway. Not in the way she'd need it to be.)

But, it must be this, right?

They've been dating for over a year, and he's gone to bat for her against her father in a way that no one else has gotten the opportunity to. He's kind, and he takes care of her, and he loves her.

And, maybe, all of those things made the fact that he didn't trust her not matter.

Maybe.

"I love you, too." Rory says because, well, it feels right to say, and she's pretty sure of herself.

Averman beams and then kisses her. When they separate, he helps her put her necklace on. She fiddles with the charm as they finish the rest of the tour band in hand, her heart racing for all kinds of reasons that she can't quite discern.

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"See you Monday?"

His parents picked them up at the end of the tour and took her back to their home to have dinner. It was, once again, one of the strangest times of her life-- both because she just didn't feel well and because she always feels weirdly out of place with his family, no matter how kind they all are to her-- but she survived.

Now, standing outside her dorm and looking at her boyfriend as he leans out the passenger seat of his father's car, she tries not to count down the seconds until there's a door that she can hide behind.

"Yeah." Averman grins so wide his face might split in half. "I'll see you then."

Rory smiles back, too distracted by her thoughts to be as genuine as he is.

"Thank you again for having me over, and driving me around, Mr. Averman."

Mr. Averman waves a dismissive hand and smiles a charming smile that reminds her so much of her boyfriend's, just older.

"Goodbye!"

She watches them drive off, sniffling and rubbing her arms as the wind blows right by her. As soon as they're gone, she speed-walks into the dorm building and barely acknowledges the security guard at the front desk; she takes the steps by two, heart beating in her ears so loudly that she cannot hear anything else, until she's on her floor.

But, then, she walks right past her door.

Scott is leaving his and Rick's room when she arrives. One look at her makes him pause and pull his headset off, eyebrows pinched to the center of his forehead.

"You look like you're going to be sick."

"I'm fine." She says unconvincingly, panting all the way through her sentence. Then she points. "Is Rick in there?"

Scott glances over his shoulder at the closed door behind him.

"Uh," He turns back to her. "Yeah. He's doing some homework. Why?"

That's said with a much surer tone, like Scott is prepared to hurt his best friend in the world for offending her, or something.

"I need to talk to him about... something."

"Ah." He nods, still seeming unconvinced, before stepping aside and letting her in.

Rick is, just like Scott said he was, sitting at his desk. He's got the headset to his disc-man on, too, and he's clicking the pen in his hand to the tune of whatever song he's listening to.

"Rick?" She calls, back pressed against his door. "Rick-- Rick-- Rick!"

He jumps once he finally hears her and pushes his headset off immediately, whipping around to face her.

"Jesus Christ."

Rick looks like he wants to follow that up with a snarky remark but once he sees that it's her and the state that she's in his face changes.

"What's up with you?"

"What homework are you doing? Is it, like, super important? Because if it's important then I can just come back later--"

"I'm doing Calculus. It's whatever. What's up?"

Now... how does she word this?

"I think I've fucked up." Rory says, voice no louder than a whisper.

"How?"

"I-- I told my boyfriend I loved him, but I don't know what that means."

Her captain's perfectly groomed eyebrow slowly, but surely, arches up.

(And on the other side of his door, one of the JV Eden Hall Warriors saw her go into Rick's room and, instead of snooping around, formed the assumption that would ruin everything.)

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a/n:

word count - 2605

hi! this is about the part in the story where my plans REALLY start to deviate from the OG fic (and we step away from canon for a few more chapters)!

I've never been far off my coast, let alone within minnesota state lines, so all information about the museum has been looked up. if it's incorrect, it's the fault of the websites I looked into.