┏━━━━ •❃°•°❀°•°❃• ━━━━┓
chapter eighteen
"  Dancing in the moonlight
Everybody's feeling
warm and bright
It's such a fine
and natural sight
Everybody's dancing
in the moonlight."
┗━━━━ •❃°•°❀°•°❃• ━━━━┛

NOW PLAYING: "DANCING IN THE MOONLIGHT" by KING HARVEST (1972)

___________

RORY IS ANGRY WITH herself.

Here, she has the perfect guy. He's sweet, considerate, funny, incredibly handsome, and just as interested in music as she is. Tommy has checked all of her boxes so far. He doesn't smoke. He's responsible. All of her friends have liked him. But where there should be butterflies in her stomach and tingles whenever they touch, there's... nothing.

At first, she thinks it's a fluke. It was their first kiss, so maybe her jitters got in the way of her true feelings. But even after the second one, and the third, it starts to feel like a chore instead of something she actually wants to do.

What makes it worse is that Tommy obviously doesn't have that same sense of crushing disappointment. As they start to mingle with the crowd again, he keeps touching her — putting an arm around her waist, holding her hand in his larger one — and sometimes she catches him looking at her out of the corner of her eye. Karen notices his enamored expression and grins triumphantly.

Rory should be head-over-heels for him. He's everything she's wanted in a partner and it's only been two dates. Tommy looks at her with stars in his eyes, his gaze never straying from her for long like she's a magnet drawing his attention, earnestly listening to her every word and making her feel seen.

She must be putting on a pretty good front, though, because nobody seems to notice that anything is off. Until a wrench is thrown into her mask in the form of Daisy Jones.

The woman steps outside in a brown coat accentuated by an ornate fur lining, messy strands of russet hair tucked inside. Her gaze flickers around the partygoers. For a moment, when Daisy doesn't think she's being observed, Rory notices an expression she's never seen on her face before— uncertainty. She scrutinizes the backyard as if desperate to find someone familiar.

Rory never thought someone like Daisy could feel out of place, but it seems even the most confident people can sometimes be self-conscious.

Rory waves. Daisy catches the movement and relaxes at the sight of her, a smile pulling up her lips as she walks toward them.

"Hey," she greets the pair. "Who's this?"

"This is Tommy. We've... uh..." Rory falters for a moment, unsure of how to introduce him. "We've been seeing each other. Tommy, this is Daisy."

Tommy nods, holding out a hand for her to shake, just as he's done for everyone else. "You're the one with those rockin' vocals on 'Honeycomb'."

"Yep." Daisy's wristful of dangly bracelets clank from under her sleeves when she shakes his hand.

"Tommy's into music, too. Karen met him at a music shop. He's a keyboardist."

"Seems like everyone's a bit musical around here," Daisy says. She searches the crowd again, her expression faltering for a moment.

"It's okay," Rory tells her, "I don't know most of the people here, either."

This reassurance seems to help. Daisy becomes less stiff, relaxing into her usual, effortlessly casual posture. She examines Tommy for a second before asking, "Do you think you could get us some drinks?"

Tommy seems taken aback by her abrupt request. He recovers quickly, though. "Oh, sure. What do you want?"

"Anything's fine as long as it's alcohol."

Rory requests a vodka cran, knowing that someone around here is playing bartender for the night and will be able to mix it up. Tommy disappears to fetch their beverages. Daisy tracks every step he takes like a mother bear watching a potential danger retreat, then yanks Rory closer as soon as she deems he's far enough.

"You don't like him," she says.

"What?" It's a reflexive response more than anything. Rory's eyes widen, her heart screeching to a halt. "Of course I do!"

"No, you don't."

How could she have already figured this out after spending less than two minutes in their presence, when the others have all been convinced that they're fine? Daisy's eerie talent to see past people's masks and call them out is unsettling. It was funny when she used it on Billy, but now that Rory is the one under the spotlight, she starts to sweat.

"Yes, I do like him," she says with as much conviction as she can muster. And it's true. Rory does like Tommy... just, as it would seem, not in a romantic sense. She could talk to him for hours, but doesn't yearn to kiss him again.

Daisy straightens. Even though Rory is wearing heels, so is she, so any potential advantage in height has been negated. The redhead towers over her, and that calculating, blue-eyed stare is ruthless. She may as well be carving out the layers of Rory's skin for how exposed she feels. If Daisy had a superpower, it would be x-ray vision.

"Maybe you do," she says, "but you don't want to sleep with him."

Rory's cheeks flush carmine in an instant. The intensity with which the heat rushes to her face makes her dizzy, causing Daisy to become a light brown blob for a second, her lithe frame fully coalescing with her coat.

"Daisy!" she hisses. When the woman merely raises a questioning brow at her, waiting for a confirmation that she's right, Rory sighs and presses the heels of her palms to her eyes. Muted smudges of color dance behind her eyelids before she opens them again. "For the record, I am not interested in sleeping with anyone right now."

This used to be true. After Sticks, she never thought she'd be able to think about another person in a sexual manner again. Every time she listened to songs with innuendos or watched implied scenes in films, her mind went right back to the days she was trapped under his weight.

But that has started to fade. Now, she finds her gaze lingering on Warren's hands. Sometimes she wonders how his lips would feel on her neck. He'll casually throw an arm around her and she secretly wants him to grab her by the hips, pushing them even closer.

So this part is definitely a lie. Well, maybe. She isn't sure how she feels about the possibility of sleeping with someone, even Warren, because she hasn't gotten close to anyone else yet. She won't know until it happens if their hands will start to feel like Sticks's.

It's a half-truth, then. Stuck in the place between reality and fiction for now.

Daisy hums thoughtfully, giving Rory another long x-ray look that she tries not to squirm under. Then she says, "Okay."

It's not a sign that she believes Rory, but more so one of dissent. A word that means, "I'm putting this topic aside for later." All of a sudden, Rory wants to find Tommy and ask him to just bring her a full bottle of vodka so she can get rip-roaring drunk and forget this conversation.

"Here you go, ladies," Tommy's voice chimes in from behind her. A moment later, a plastic cup appears in her hands. "Vodka cran for Miss Marquez and—"

Before Tommy can finish telling Daisy what he selected for her, she plucks the cup from his fingers and holds it to her lips, tilting her head back to chug it. Both he and Rory watch with open mouths as her throat bobs with each swallow. By the time she pauses for a breath, the drink is gone.

"Thanks," she says breathlessly. "You two have fun."

Then she blends into the crowd and melts away.

"...a Mai Tai for Miss Jones," Tommy finishes as if his brain had lagged and is still catching up to the fact that Daisy is gone. He blinks. "What just happened?"

"Yeah, that's how most interactions with Daisy leave you feeling," Rory says, slipping her hand into his. Still no butterflies. But she is a Marquez, and that means she is determined. "She's an enigma."

That would make a good concept for a song. A woman you can't figure out, who always keeps you guessing and wanting more every time you talk to her. Rory's fingers itch for a pencil and paper. She could flesh out the idea later, maybe even use it for a client.

Her thoughts are cut off by the string lights surrounding the backyard flickering out, plunging them into darkness. Rory gasps at the abrupt change. Collective sounds of confusion and disappointment rise from the people in the yard and house, which has also gone black.

"What a terrible time for a power outage," Tommy says.

"Let's go see if Cami needs help." Rory tugs him along into the house, refusing to take a sip of her drink until she can see more than a few inches in front of her.

The house is more cramped in the dark. It seems like every piece of furniture has been placed in the prime position for someone to trip over, and she takes tiny steps to avoid doing just that.

"My mom is crazy paranoid about earthquakes, so she made us buy all this stuff," Camila's voice says. Rory finds her already holding a lit match and a box of candles to distribute around the house.

It's much quieter now that the stereo has been cut off, with only the sounds of snatched conversations and crackling embers filling the air. Rory immediately grabs a box of candlesticks and begins placing them on every available surface. Tommy follows her lead, using his height to fit them onto places she can't reach, balancing out the distribution.

In a matter of minutes, the interior has been turned from a dimly lit cavern to a lively place full of soft, flickering lights. The small flames warm the crisp night air. They cast dancing shadows along the walls, and when Rory sees their silhouettes, she wishes she could be moving just like they are, careless and weightless.

It seems like Karen has the same idea. She slides onto the piano bench and calls, "Lopez!"

Tommy turns his attention away from Rory and heeds her beckoning, taking a seat next to her.

"Been a while since I played in tandem with someone," he confesses. His finger runs idly across an ivory key.

"Same here," Karen replies. "Don't worry about it."

Tommy's gaze flickers to where Rory stands beside the instrument, then back to where his hands settle onto the keys, and Rory realizes with a start that he's nervous to play in front of her. She kicks him in the calf and smiles when his gaze shoots back to her.

"You've got this," she tells him.

It seems to fortify him, if even a little bit, and he nods to Karen. She whispers something to him before beginning to play the lower notes of "Ooh La La" by Faces. Tommy joins in with the higher ones, and within seconds, they're playing like they're an extension of one another, sharing the same brain waves. It reminds Rory of how she feels when she plays with Graham.

Eddie hands her a small candlestick with a paper cup around it to catch the melting wax. She notices that other people in the living room have them as well, adding to the glowing lights they'd placed on tables and shelves. It's a mundane yet beautiful sight that warms Rory's heart as well as where her hands grip the bottom of the candle.

Eddie returns to the sofa and grabs his guitar, slinging it around his neck while Karen starts the vocals.

"Poor old granddad
I laughed at all his words
I thought he was a bitter man
He spoke of women's ways

'They'll trap you, then they use you
Before you even know
But love is blind and you're far too kind
Don't ever let it show.'"

Rory steps back into the small group gathered around the perimeter of the room. Each member of the band finds some way to round out the song — Eddie with his guitar, Warren with a pair of small bongos he'd found somewhere, and Graham snapping his fingers.

Rory opens her mouth to join in the chorus. So does Daisy. When their voices both join with Karen's, they lock eyes and share smiles.

"I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was younger
I wish that I knew what I know now
When I was stronger."

She feels warm skin against her arm and realizes that Warren has wormed his way over, causing his abdomen to brush against her. He leans down to mumble, "There's our Ro-Ro."

Rory flushes, still grinning from ear to ear, remembering a time when she wouldn't sing even around her best friends. Yet she feels completely comfortable doing it now.

This is one of the moments she wishes she could capture in time, or maybe hold in her hands forever, keeping it to revisit whenever she likes. She hopes she remembers the smell in the air and the way the floorboards feel under her shoes. Her eyes drift around the room, trying to soak in every detail and press them into her brain like wax. The way the shadows cling to the walls. How Graham's eyes are illuminated by the trio of candles on the coffee table. The drink in her hand that she finally sips, allowing the mixture of alcohol and fruit juice to linger in her mouth.

Daisy takes over for the second verse. Then, to Rory's shock, Billy's voice joins hers, and he descends from the second floor to harmonize with her. It has the same effect as the first time she'd heard them sing together. They captivate the room, complementing each other's vocals perfectly. It's reminiscent of her and Graham, or Karen and Tommy— like they were made to work together.

The house fills with cheerful "Ooh-la-la's" as everyone shouts the final chorus to the ceiling. Warren's excitement is infectious, making Rory sway along with him, her cheeks aching from smiling so hard for so long. He wraps an arm around her shoulders and continues drumming. Even though she's pressed against his elaborate fur coat and not his skin, everywhere they touch makes her nerves race, making her painfully aware of every point of contact.

When the song ends, everyone bursts into applause and cheers. What seemed like the end of the party was just what they needed to tie everyone together. Daisy is looser than before, and it's not because of the drink she'd chugged. A sense of rightness, of belonging, fills the room. This needed to happen.

"Who's next?" Karen asks, lifting her legs and spinning around on the piano bench. She pretends to scan the group for a moment before deciding, "Rory!"

Rory shakes her head. "I don't even know what to sing."

"Well, that's fine, because I have ideas for you."

Karen leans into Tommy's ear again and whispers. He shifts to the middle of the bench, taking over the whole instrument this time. Anticipation hangs in the air as he moves his hand toward the left end of the piano. Then the familiar notes of The Foundations' "Build Me Up Buttercup" make everyone cheer again.

"Great choice, Karen!" Eddie tells her as she leaves the room, grabbing hold of Graham to drag him along with her. Rory eyes them— they've been all but glued to each other's sides all night.

Though she'd protested at first, she does sing, the song made complete again with Warren's percussion and Eddie performing the backup vocals. They've never sung together before, but their voices match surprisingly well— hers is smooth and clear while his is rugged and airy.

"'I'll be over at ten,'
you told me time and again
But you're late,
I wait around and then—"

"Ba — dah — dah!" Eddie chimes in, making Rory stumble over the next line through her giggles.

"I went to the door,
I can't take any more
It's not you,
you let me down again."

Eddie is right on time again."Hey, hey, hey!"

All of Tommy's apprehension seems to have vanished, and he jams on the piano without even looking at the keys, mostly watching Rory over his shoulder. She only catches a second of this because she spends most of the song with her eyes closed or observing the ridiculous faces Eddie keeps pulling. He's obviously drunk, so it's surprising that he can not only remember the lyrics but also play the guitar while intoxicated. She doesn't know whether to be concerned or impressed.

After their impromptu karaoke session, Tommy has to leave to check on his father.

"I want to make sure my Pa's still at work," he tells her.

Rory frowns. "Do you have to do that a lot? Check on him to make sure he's where he's supposed to be?"

Tommy shrugs nonchalantly, though she can tell that the answer is yes, and it bothers him. "Sometimes he tries to sneak out to grab a drink at the bar across the street. Last time he did that, the bodega got robbed because he was gone for two hours."

"I'm sorry," she says, unsure of what else to say. To make up for her lack of meaningful words, she squeezes his hand and pulls him into a hug. "Thank you for coming tonight."

"Of course. I loved meeting your friends." He's smiling when he looks down at her. "I'll see you again soon?"

Rory nods. "Yeah. I'm free this Thursday."

"It's a date, then. I'll call you and we can make plans."

He leans down to meet her halfway in a kiss. She thought things might be different this time, now that they've shared special moments through music, but she's left with disappointment again.

Still no butterflies.

The party is starting to die down now that it's late, leaving the house emptier than it had been before. Rory is quiet while she helps Camila tidy up. Her brain is at war with itself. Should she keep trying to make things work with Tommy when there hasn't been an improvement since the first time they met? Or should she let him down easy before she starts to get his hopes up? He's much more into her than she is to him, and it doesn't feel fair.

"I think Billy is gonna ask Daisy to join the band," Camila tells her as they comb through the garden with trash bags and flashlights.

Rory stands up so quickly she almost bangs her head on a post. "What? Really?"

"It took convincing," she continues, "but I think tonight was a kind of confirmation. I mean, you saw what happened in there. It was... magical."

"I'm surprised Billy would let go of the reins for anyone," Rory says.

"Oh, he's definitely going to try to make her fit in her place and do whatever he says, and she's not going to let him, which is what I like about her."

The image of Billy trying to tell Daisy to switch to bass, followed by Daisy promptly slapping him, enters Rory's mind. She laughs. There's certainly going to be more push-and-shove now. She should start spending all of her lunch breaks just watching them interact.

"I'm glad you had fun tonight," Cami says during their walk back up to the house, putting her arm around Rory's waist. "Just because I'm not living there anymore doesn't mean I'm not always here for you, okay, manita?"

"I know," Rory replies, hugging her tighter. And she does. She knows.

She's the most sober member of the band, so she drives all of them home, leaving Eddie's car behind because he and Warren are too drunk to take it back. It's a good thing that they only live a few miles down the road. "The most sober" doesn't equal completely sober, and the alcohol combined with her fatigue makes her feel ready to pass out by the time she pulls into the drive.

They stumble into the back house with incoherent grumbles. Warren lingers in the kitchen to make himself a late-night snack. The others head to their respective bedrooms. Rory is too exhausted to even make it there with Karen, choosing instead to flop onto the overstuffed sofa and close her eyes. She only means to rest there for a moment. But she tumbles into sleep almost immediately.

When she wakes the next morning, stiff and groggy, Warren's fur vest is covering her like a makeshift blanket, coating her in the scent of marijuana and his cologne, and Rory's heart trips over itself with the realization that he must've put it over her before heading to bed. She'd snuggled into it at some point in the night. The soft material tickles her face.

Logically, she knows she should get up, stretch out her sore muscles, and brush her teeth, but her heart yearns for an excuse to stay wrapped up in Warren's vest for a little bit longer, imagining it's his arms that are around her instead. A smile works its way onto her face. She buries it in the vest like she's afraid of anyone seeing it, though the room is empty. But God can still keep her secrets.

She had not felt even a fraction of this giddiness when Tommy had lent her his jacket.

One more try. She's going to go out with him on Thursday, and if the connection still isn't there, she's going to nip this in the bud.

_________

a/n:

pour one out for tommy :( i volunteer to be his gf

all of the comments i got of people thirsting over him in the last chapter were HILARIOUS oh my god. you guys make me laugh so hard. i love you.

while i was watching the scene to write this chapter, i kept looking for rory in the show because i forgot she's not real and i pulled her out of my mind :') like what do you MEAN she's not standing by the piano??? she's clearly RIGHT THERE!!!

sorry for the slight wait — i had some personal stuff going on. thank you all for being patient <3

— kristyn

( word count: 3.7k )