Do You See Her Face? (A Jess Mariano Fanfiction)

An Alice Man

Ella looked down at her shirt and immediately flushed scarlet. She'd worn a white long-sleeve with a black outline of Lou Reed's face. With the saturation from the rain, the white cotton had become almost entirely see-through and her black bra was completely visible.

"You have got to be kidding," she said softly to herself, burying her face in her hands.

Again, Jess looked up at the noise and assessed the situation, sputtering something between a sound of surprise and a chuckle when he saw what had happened. Ella arched an eyebrow at him, then switched from thinking mode to acting mode. She grabbed Jess by his sleeve and began dragging him towards the store room.

"Jesus! What-" he began, but she cut him off as they made it into the back.

"What the hell is your problem?!" she exclaimed, crossing her arms over her chest self-consciously.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he said dejectedly, avoiding eye contact.

"Really, tough guy? You don't know?" Ella asked, forcing him to meet her gaze. "Look, I know we're not best friends. In fact, we barely even count as coworkers! And honestly, I couldn't give a fuck if you ever talk to me again. But, I want my books and my records back! And the next time you wanna hide a black eye from Luke, I wouldn't count on me helping you!"

"Eleanor, I-"

"Don't Eleanor me, Jess," she scoffed.

Jess cast his eyes down at his black boots, and Ella was surprised to find him looking squirmy.

"Luke told me, alright?" he said after a long pause, finally facing her.

"Told you what?" she demanded.

"About your mom and your dad and why you work here," he blurted out, trying to maintain his hard exterior though embarrassment crawled beneath his skin.

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ella brought a hand to her necklace and let out another long, frustrated sigh. "Alright. Yes, my mom's dead and my dad's not winning any parenting awards. What does that have to do with you morphing into a jackass the last few weeks? More of a jackass than normal?"

"The entire town hates me. And I don't care. But I figured it would be better for you not to have to deal with-"

"Yeah right," she mumbled, glancing back at the door to the diner, hoping no one could hear them but knowing everyone probably could. "Luke told you to stay away from me, didn't he?"

"No, he-"

"Don't bullshit me, Jess."

"Alright, fine, yes. But I get it."

Running a hand through her hair, Ella tried to quiet the emotions swarming around within her. "Well, I'm flattered you've decided to give me so much choice in the matter."

"I-"

"Y'know, I'm pretty sick of everyone assuming I'm some scared little girl who needs protecting!" she fumed, speaking with her hands. "Because, guess what, I got dealt a bad hand. And I made it through almost entirely on my own. I'm almost eighteen years old, and I get to choose what I do and who I hang out with! Alright?"

Ella shot him an expectant look. Jess crossed his arms and sighed, nodding in acknowledgment.

"Great! And, just so we're clear, I'm plenty smart enough to avoid your dumbass antics on my own!"

Her face was set in determination, posture rigid. Redness warmed her skin, her hazel eyes alight with fire. Jess waited a beat, to see whether or not she had finished. After a moment, it seemed like her speech was over. Heaving a breath, Ella fiddled with her blonde waves once more, trying to calm her nerves, remembering again what a shitty day she'd had. But at least she knew what was up with Jess. She knew she would have to assure Luke of her safety at some point, but she had to calm down first. Ever since her mother had died, he, along with Lorelai, had begun looking out for her. It was appreciated, but coupled with the concern of the rest of the town, she, at times, felt suffocated. Especially considering none of those people had to come home with her and face the daily trash of the Stevens household. They didn't have to listen to her father fucking his new girlfriend in the middle of the night and walk past the old photographs of her mother the next morning. Not even if they continued dropping off random pity casseroles.