Disclaimer: All Gilmore Girls content belongs to Amy Sherman-Palladino.
. . .
She looked like a dream in her sundress. Late August light bathed the crowds at the summer festival, and Ella practically glimmered when Jess spotted her from across the square. It made him feel like an idiot thinking the way he was, but she had an effect on him which he'd previously only read about in books. He wasn't sure exactly when the tipping point had been, when he'd truly fallen in love with her, passed the point of no return. But he had. And he was. He loved a girl who didn't believe in love, who wasn't into dating, who didn't feel the same. It had never been so complicated before, and he'd never been so completely screwed. There were moments, times when his heart nearly burst from the hope. When she laughed at one of his wiseass remarks, or ran her fingertips over the notes he'd left in the margins of her poetry books, or let her eyes linger on him for just a second too long. But each time, she would brush it off, act like nothing had happened. And he'd be forced to wonder if he'd imagined the electricity passing between them.
Slowly, over the course of the summer, he was beginning to come to terms with it. Maybe they could just be friends, coworkers. Maybe all he needed was to make out with Shane until his lips were swollen and his mind was blank and his memory would be wiped clean of all the times Ella had made him feel deeper than he ever had before. Besides, he had never fallen in love before, had never uttered the three fateful words in all his seventeen years. A small part of him believed he could snap out of it easily.
He took his eyes back from her form, concentrating on the girl in front of him. The girl who wanted him and nothing more. Who meant nothing but ease and pleasure. Sliding his hands down in her back pockets, Jess closed his eyes and placed kisses down Shane's neck, the bark of the tree they leaned on rough against his back.
. . .
"She's back with a vengeance!" Ella exclaimed, wrapping her arms around Rory in a gleeful embrace.
They stood together near a flower stand, the fragrant display adding sweetness to the air. Despite the barber shop quartet droning on in the background, Ella felt her spirits lift at the sight of Rory Gilmore, her confidant missing in action over the summer at an internship in Washington. In the back of her mind, Ella couldn't help reminding herself that soon, she would have to deal with the constant separation. Rory would be off at Harvard, Lane would be touring with her band (hopefully), and Ella would be stuck. As she always had been. She'd have to fill Rory in on how the college applications were going later.
Rory laughed happily, pulling away from Ella and holding her at an arm's length. "Yes, and with all the hot DC gossip."
"I'm intrigued," Ella said, raising an eyebrow.
From behind them, Lorelai beamed, her own face painted with joy, her daughter back in town. Ella loved that about summer. It had a special kind of magic no other season could manage, positivity radiating from everyone, dampened only by the occasional rainy day.
"Alright, let's go find Lane, and we are in for a movie night of epic proportions!" Lorelai announced, strolling around the square with the two teens in tow.
Before they departed completely, however, Rory followed Ella's distracted gaze to the old oak where Jess stood, eating his girlfriend's face.
"Oh, God!" Rory exclaimed, scrunching up her face in disgust.
Ella blushed, Rory having noticed her staring. She hadn't meant to. But seeing the two of them together, considering the many fights with Shane the summer had brought, gave her a feeling of irritated uneasiness. Like a car crash she couldn't look away from. Morbid interest feeding morbid interest in a vicious, voyeuristic cycle.
Tilting her head to the scene in question, Lorelai scoffed. "Guess he's got his 'What I Did This Summer' essay all planned out."
"I know," Ella groaned. "America's youth really does have such admirable modesty."
Snorting a laugh, Rory shot a knowing look at her mother. "Have they been at that a lot?"
Ella nodded, speeding up in her stride a little to get out of view of the display. "Yep. It's now part of the Early Bird Special at the diner. Dinner and a show."
Lorelai faked a gag. "I told you. The kid gives off major Sid Vicious vibes."
"Looks like he's found his Nancy," Rory added.
"And he's been so weird at work lately. He barely talks to me, just sits on his little stool. Reading, brooding, scaring off small children. Maybe I pissed him off. I don't know," Ella said. She fiddled with the chain of her necklace.
"Um....Ella?" Rory began, bringing a hand to the blonde girl's shoulder. "Do you not realize you're the Catherine to his Heathcliff?"
Ella scoffed, laughing breathily. "What?"
"He's totally into you!" Lorelai exclaimed.
Raising a brow, Ella rolled her eyes and kept walking. She crossed her arms over her chest defiantly. "Very funny."
"Every time he looks at you..." Lorelai said, feigning a swoony look. "It's sickening."
"Yeah, right. I bet it's Rory he's into," Ella argued, shrugging them off once more.
"Oh really?" Rory asked skeptically. "Then why does he make those notes in your margins? In the poetry books he said he hated when he first got here?"
"It's mutually assured destruction," Ella explained. "If he stops taking a chance on poetry, I'll stop taking a chance on the beats. The arguments would ensue, the diner would descend into chaos. In an effort to avoid certain death during our shifts together, we compromise."
"Ah, the key to a strong relationship's foundation," Lorelai retorted.
Snorting a laugh, Ella shook her head. Without the flowers and the serenity of solitude, the less desirable aspects of the festival began to wear on Ella's psyche. The barber shop quartet spun around and around in her head, making her dizzy, and the sun beat down on them. Stray strands of hair, fallen from her bun, began to stick to her damp forehead.
Suddenly, an idea occurred to Ella. "Rory, my dear?"
"Yes?" Rory answered with suspicion.
"You know how you always give me presents on my birthday even though I tell you not to?" Ella asked.
"I'm aware of the annual birthday commiseration," Rory said, nodding.
"Well, I'd like to request, as a birthday present for your favorite waitress, a moratorium on the Jess talk until I am seventeen years and one day old," Ella suggested, fluttering her eyelashes jokingly.
Sighing, Rory linked her arm with Ella's. "Alright, but only because you asked so very nicely."
"Good to have you back, Thelma," Ella smiled fondly, pulling her friend a little closer.
"Same to you, Louise."
Lorelai chuckled and shook her head, watching as the girls ascended the steps to Lane's door.
. . .
Mercifully, Ella had made it through the day with minimal birthday wishes and no attempts at gift-giving. Lorelai and Rory had teased her about a surprise party, but she knew they wouldn't truly dare. Instead of going home, where she knew she'd have to brave Fiona's pathetic attempts at celebration, she wandered around town aimlessly. It made her feel guilty to snap at the woman so much, but she just couldn't help herself. Watching Fiona, only twelve years her senior, traipsing around in her house, humming the Dixie Chicks songs she knew her mother would've hated. Before she could apply any rational thought to the decision, she found her way to the bridge. The greenish-black water sparkled in glowing moonlight. Crickets sung and cicadas buzzed, a low summer tune. She hung her booted feet over the edge, the black cotton of her dress pooling around her knees. Rifling through her shoulder bag to the side, she found a copy of The Grapes of Wrath. A perfect book to sustain her gloomy mood. She laid back against the wooden planks of the pier, holding the novel above her face, blocking out the view of the clear night. The humidity had dissipated, and a cool breeze blew past her.
A few peaceful moments had passed before she heard footfalls thumping heavily, vibrating beneath her back. She sighed as the noise got closer, letting the book fall to her chest and rolling her eyes.
"Stealing my spot, huh?" Jess spoke up as he approached, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans.
"Sorry, didn't realize you'd bought the property."
"Touché."
Though Ella still hadn't looked over at him, she heard him sit down next to her. She could smell the subtle mixture of hair gel and pine.
"By all means, sit down," she snapped, sitting up again, placing her scrap of construction paper back in the book to save her place. She stuffed it back in her bag to the left. Fiddling with the end of the loose braid which hung over her shoulder, she sighed again.
Jess scoffed. "Jeez, Daria. Don't pull your punches."
"Shut up, Jess," she replied flatly, staring out across the water. In the light, she knew she would've been able to watch schools of tiny grey fish whizzing by. As a child, she'd imagined small mermaids living in a crystalline village beneath the surface of the dull silt and sand.
"Feelin' pithy tonight?" he drawled, an eyebrow raised.
"You could say that."
He only nodded, leaning back on his palms. Silence stood between the two of them, heavy in the nighttime air. Ella almost put her nails to her mouth, then thought better of it. When Jess still didn't speak, she huffed out a big breath and finally tossed him a glance.
"Don't you have someone to verbally abuse at the diner or a girlfriend's face to suck or something?" she asked.
Jess shot her a look. Before he could even respond, Ella spoke again.
"As long as you're here, could you loan me a cigarette?" she asked, a shameful blush coloring her cheeks. As much as the request embarrassed her, she couldn't stand the way her skin was crawling.
"What?" Jess blurted out, eyes wide. "What happened to the periodic surgeon general's warnings?"
She sighed, dropping her gaze to her lap and clearing her throat. "I've gotta keep you on your toes, don't I?"
Though slightly flabbergasted, Jess's eyes shone fondly, remembering the carriage ride they'd taken at the Bracebridge dinner so many months ago. After a moment, he produced a crumpled packet and a lighter from his pocket and handed them to her.
"Thank you," she muttered, placing a cigarette between her lips. It surprised her that he actually obliged, considering how stand-offish he'd been at work lately. The lighter struck on the first try, the small orange flame flickering warmly in the darkness. And Jess could tell immediately it was far from the first time she'd smoked. She handed the supplies back to him.
He took a cigarette of his own and lit it up.
"Don't tell Luke," she said, voice slightly husky as she exhaled the first puff of smoke. Her words came out in dim blue clouds.
"I wouldn't dare," he replied, tapping ash into the lake and watching it burn out. "Your secret is safe, Stevens."
"Thanks. I'll consider it a birthday present," she grumbled, feeling the familiar burn of smoke in her chest. She knew she would regret the decision in the morning.
"It's your birthday?"
"Yep."
"Happy birthday," he said reflexively, eyebrows raised.
Scoffing bitterly, Ella flicked ash off her cigarette with her thumb. "Thanks, Mariano."
"Is that why you're gonna bite my head off at the next wrong move?"
She laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, birthdays aren't my thing."
"Huh. And I guess that's why no one said anything at work?"
Ella nodded. "Yeah, after a few crying customers last year, Luke ordered the diner a birthday-free zone."
"Wise of him."
"It was."
Regarding her in the moonlight, Jess sighed. "Any particular reason for the birthday allergy?"
Swallowing harshly, Ella brought her free hand to her necklace and a smirk formed on her face. "It's just...my mom was a big birthday person. Without her here, it just all feels a little artificial. It's weird. The anniversary of the day she died never hits me as hard as Mother's Day, or today."
He nodded, solemn as she continued.
"I try to spend as little time at home as I can. And Rory and Lorelai always try to get me to do something," she said, pausing to inhale deeply and blow out a stream of smoke. "But I am nothing if not pertinacious."
"Nice. Ten-cent word."
"Thanks. Used it in the crossword this morning. I'd say it's at least twenty cents," she said, scoffing in mock offense.
Jess chuckled. "Alright, I'll cave for the birthday girl."
"How kind of you."
Crushing the smoldering butt of her cigarette on the weathered bridge wood, Ella exhaled out her nose and crossed one leg over the other. She smoothed her hands over her dress. Somewhere, a loon cried. Jess sat quietly beside her, the last of his cigarette glowing as he inhaled. When he put it out, he stood up and made to leave. Ella didn't say a word, didn't even look at him. After a second of thought, he held a hesitant hand out to her.
"Let's go back to the diner," he proposed with finality. "Eat some of the leftover pie."
Looking at his hand, Ella thought of the book in her bag. The hours she could spend alone with nothing but Steinbeck to entertain her. But then, she felt a sudden rush of courage at the thought of Luke's. Free of people, with pastries under the glass domes on the counters and stale pies in the back fridge. And Jess. She heaved a sigh, then slung her bag over her shoulder and grabbed his hand.
. . .
"No way," Jess said, shaking his head doubtfully as he took another bite of the pie.
Ella smiled, nodding. "I swear. I was named the worst dancer out of all the little girls ever taught at Miss Patty's by the Gazette. I was responsible for the domino incident of 1992 which caused two sprained ankles and one broken arm. Suffice it to say, the arm was mine."
"Jesus," Jess laughed, his eyebrows raised.
"Yeah, I'm Patrick Swayze's worst nightmare."
Jess rolled his eyes and threw his head back with a dramatic groan. "I'll never understand your fixation with those cheesy eighties movies."
"You bite your tongue, heathen," she said lightly, digging another bite from the cold apple pie in the tin between them.
"Well, at least we can agree on Steinbeck," he shrugged through a laugh.
She nodded and sighed tiredly, brought a hand to her necklace.
The diner shone brightly against the otherwise dark landscape of Main Street. Ella could hear Luke snoring from all the way upstairs, but it was almost comforting if not amusing. With the leftover pie between them, she and Jess sat alone amongst chairs stacked on tables and cutlery put away. It smelled vaguely of disinfectant, but the pine was still there, making her heart feel just a touch less broken. Maybe being alone wasn't the best way to pass one of the hardest days of her year.
"I'm surprised she still even lets you step foot in the studio, leaving that much carnage in your wake," Jess said, smirking at the way the tension slowly released from her shoulders.
Snorting a laugh, Ella took another bite of the pie. She could tell it was made from her recipe, heavy on the cinnamon. "Well, the years have improved my coordination a little bit."
"But have they?" he teased.
"Shut up," she retorted, good nature in her voice.
A comfortable pause filled the air. Jess's eyes caught her thin fingers still rolling the silver chain of her necklace. She blew up a long breath and straightened up, putting her fork back down in the tin, the half-pie almost all the way gone.
Nodding, Jess swallowed dryly and bit at his lip. "Why do you wear that necklace every day?"
Eyes widening, Ella couldn't help but feel taken aback by the question. She let out a self-conscious scoff and her hand immediately dropped away from her collar. The small silver charm, a key, glinted in the yellow diner light.
"My grandmother gave it to me," she explained, her tone even though she avoided his eyes. "It's the key to the jewelry box she had when she was little. The box got lost, but the key stayed. She was a singer. Friends with Miss Patty. Pretty fucking cool."
Jess smiled a tiny smile. "Sounds like it."
"Yeah," she replied, the word a sigh. Then, after a beat, she regained her direct nature and looked him in the eye. "Okay, since we're asking questions tonight: why the hell are there bongos on the shelf above your desk?"
Jess laughed, but his cheeks reddened a touch. "Those were there when I moved in. Scout's Honor."
She rolled her eyes. "You are the last person in the world they would ever let into the Scouts."
"Wow, that one hurt."
Ella smiled. "Then what's Luke doing with those bongos?"
"Preparing for a Matthew McConaughey," Jess shot back knowingly.
"Ugh, that image is gonna be burned in my mind forever," she groaned, nose scrunching up in disgust.
"You're welcome."
"Fuck you," she said, grinning.
"Right back at ya."
Suddenly, a loud snore came from the floor above them.
"Speaking of," Ella grumbled, only in mock irritation.
"Like you don't snore."
"Only when I'm drunk," she said, then looked up at him, accusatory. "But you. Oh my god, it was all night long. Really, the two of you put together could probably break some sonic records."
Instead of retorting, Jess retrieved his weathered deck of cards from one of his jean pockets. He raised his eyebrows as a challenge and began shuffling. "Just for that last comment, you're about to be massacred at Rummy."
. . .
A knot of anxiety sat in her stomach, but work was helping her keep it at bay. It was the last Saturday of summer, Monday the start of senior year. But the waves of butterflies fluttering around in her chest weren't ones of nervousness, more only of dread. The constant drudgery of school work, the monotony of the day. She liked summer for more reasons than the mood and the weather. Free time to read, to draw, to paint. And she much preferred painting the full greenery over the desolate landscapes of a Connecticut winter. The fact she hadn't seen Jess since the night before, when she left the diner satisfied with herself for winning three hands in a row, was doing nothing to calm her either. After cleaning up from the breakfast rush, Ella was mindlessly reorganizing the mugs on the cubby shelf to the left of the counter by color and size.
"Alright, this is ridiculous," Luke admonished, walking up behind her.
She scoffed. "It's not my fault these mugs haven't been reorganized since Reagan was president."
"Because they were the last ones you hadn't got your hands on. You're starting to sound like Taylor."
Instantly, she turned and narrowed her eyes at him. "The next time you say that to me I'm turning in my apron and never looking back!"
Luke scoffed in disbelief at her dramatics. "Just take your break, Ella."
"You think I'm bluffing," she warned, untying her apron and leaving it on the hook near the kitchen window, "but I'm dead serious."
"I'm quaking in my boots," Luke replied flatly, gathering some receipts from the side of the cash register.
"I bet," she shot back, rounding the corner and going to dig through her bag, hanging by the front door. "Is Jess here? I've got a book for him."
"Upstairs," Luke said shortly.
Retracting her hand from the shoulder bag, with a worn collection of Dorothy Parker, she rolled her eyes. She tucked her hair behind her ears and prepared to disappear behind the checkered curtain on the way to the stairs.
"Has anyone ever told you you're a master conversationalist?" she asked.
"Shaddup," he groaned, waving an annoyed hand at her in the direction of the apartment.
Ella snickered, then bounded up the stairs, the soles of her old converse a little slippery on the creaking wood. She heard the TV droning on from inside, daytime Saturday shows. Only a couple short knocks sounded on the door before she let herself in, as she had so many times before when fetching random items during her shifts.
"Hey, Jess-" she began, turning to the left, Jess's room.
Cut off by a sudden flash of noise, she watched Jess stuff a blue mesh vest quickly into the top drawer of his dresser. Eyes wide with surprise, he faced her with a scowl, brows scrunched up.
"Ever hear of knocking, Daria?" he snapped.
Processing the scene before her, Ella blinked a couple times and bit the inside of her cheek. "Sorry. Guess I was too quiet."
"Apparently." He crossed his arms over his Punk Planet t-shirt and looked at her expectantly. "You need something?"
Ella cleared her throat, looking down at the book in her hands. "Yeah, I had that Dorothy Parker I was telling you about last night and..." she paused, glancing at his dresser. "I'm sorry, Jess, but I simply can't ignore this. Was that a Walmart vest?"
"What?"
"You heard me."
He straightened up, defensively. "No."
"Really?"
"You heard me," he shot back.
Pursing her lips, she nodded, unconvinced. She stepped a little closer to him, one hand on the hip of her skirt. "So, what was it?"
"A shirt."
"A shirt with a Walmart logo on it?" she asked, her voice gaining a teasing lilt.
Jess scoffed. "I think you need glasses."
A momentary staring contest ensued, and she watched him squirm under her hazel gaze. "Do you work at Walmart, Jess?"
Sighing through his nose, Jess glared at her. Then, he ran a hand through his hair and side-stepped Ella, making his way to the kitchen. "Fine. Yes. You happy?"
Instantly, a smile spread wide on her face. "Oh, so very happy."
"Glad to hear it," he growled, avoiding eye contact as he popped open a can of soda. He sat down at the kitchen table, facing the I Dream of Jeannie rerun.
Biting back her giggles, Ella came over to take the rickety kitchen chair next to him. Clearing her throat, she put the book in her hand on the table between then. She smoothed her slightly wrinkled Patti Smith t-shirt and tried to appear nonchalant, a smirk ever-present on her lips. Jess sipped his soda, eyes dark and moody, embarrassment underneath a thin layer of irritation. Nearly five minutes passed on the oven clock in the small kitchen, both of them watching Barbara Eden's foibles in silence. Ella bit a little at her nails, but only to mask her amused expression.
"So...all this time...Shangri-la was Walmart?" she asked.
Jess sighed, rolling his eyes. "Eleanor-"
"You work at Walmart," she repeated, chuckling a little.
"Whatever. You smoke," he countered.
"Like, twice a year," she said defensively. "When did you even start that job?"
Bowing his head slightly, Jess finally dropped the act a bit. "June. When you were in New Britain."
She sighed, nodding, then brought a hand to his arm. "I'm really proud of you. I mean, you can't waste all your people skills at the diner."
Jess shook her off and rolled his eyes again. "Shut up. I move stock around on a fork-lift in the back."
"Okay, tough guy."
"And don't tell Luke," he said, finally looking her in the eye.
She shrugged. "Fine, I won't. Cross my heart."
"Thank you," he snapped.
"You're very welcome," she replied, still grinning. "Seriously, though, it's not that lame. Trust me. I think it's cool. You have your own thing going, y'know?"
Jess scoffed in doubt but said nothing more.
Clearing her throat, Ella shifted her eyes down to her lap for a second, the tone of her voice changing. "But enough about your double-life, Mr. Bond. I just wanted to bring you that book. And also thank you for last night."
Jess raised a brow, eyes on the TV screen. "For what?"
"I don't know. If you hadn't come along, my plan was to read Steinbeck at the lake, then sneak home and listen to Nirvana through my headphones," she explained. "But instead I got to eat old pie and kick your ass at cards."
"Such a sore winner," he muttered, cracking a little smirk.
She laughed quietly, her fingers finding their way to her necklace. "And sorry if I was...I don't usually talk about my mom. Not exactly a crowd-pleasing topic. Just on Mother's Day and my birthday, I...You didn't have to listen."
"Don't worry. I don't do things I don't wanna do," he said, casting her a momentary glance, a small, lopsided smile on his face. It was more genuine than she was prepared for, and she had to look away as her cheeks heated up.
Rising from the table, she made to leave, hoping not to overstay her welcome. "Anyway, thanks. It was the best birthday I've had in awhile."
Running a hand over his mouth, Jess blew out a breath and faced her fully again. "Anytime, Stevens."
He looked as though he were about to say something more, but she could practically see him swallow it down. Instead, he got up from his seat and switched off the TV. Going over to his side of the apartment, she watched him grab a CD from the top of a small stack on his dresser. She couldn't quite read the cover, but could see it was filled with shades of black and red.
"How long do you have left on your break?"
Ella looked down at her watch then back up at him. "Still have about twenty minutes."
He nodded, gesturing to the CD. "I get fifteen percent off at the store, so I picked this up the other day. Just came out. It made me think of you. I thought you might wanna listen?"
"Oh," she said dumbly, surprised. She nodded. "Yeah, yeah, sure. As long as it's not jazz."
"It's not," Jess assured her, chuckling.
As he opened his closet and brought out the small stereo, she took a few steps closer, arms crossed. She couldn't help the fluttering in her chest or the way her cheeks flushed with heat. In all the time she'd known Jess, she couldn't remember ever feeling quite so anxious around him. Quite so antsy. She almost couldn't explain the feeling, but it wasn't one she minded.
"I would've shown you last night if I knew it was your birthday," he mentioned as he pressed play.
As the music started, he suddenly didn't know what to do with himself. Sit on the bed? On his desk chair? Instead, he leaned on the desktop itself, hands stuffed in his pockets. He regretted the decision already, showing her the music. He'd meant to do it at some point, during one of their friendly book exchanges. But then the air between them had become charged again, and she was about to walk away from the moment. He wanted it to last just a little longer, time with the one person in Stars Hollow he actually enjoyed being with. Even if she didn't feel quite the same as him, even if she never would.
Ella felt the slight vibrations of the music in the soles of her soles as she stepped closer to the stereo, picking up the CD case from his dresser. She turned it over in her hands. Turn on the Bright Lights by Interpol. It surprised her she hadn't heard of them before; Lane usually kept her in the know about such things. They must have been very young, very new. But she liked it, the echoing guitars and the drums. Judging from the back cover, the song to which they now listened was simply called "Untitled."
"They're good," she said, putting the case back down. "Different. I like it."
Jess shrugged. "Figured you would. What with all that sad shit you listen to. The other songs are a little more lively. They're no Fleetwood Mac, but..."
Walking closer still, she stopped when she was only a couple feet in front of him. Her heart beat with the music, and she swallowed dryly. Something was clicking in her head.
"Jess?"
He looked up, and his brown eyes locked with hers. "Yeah?"
Before she could rethink it, before she could talk herself out of it, before she could silence her heart with her head, she brought a hand to the back of his neck and kissed him. His shock was sudden but brief. Almost immediately, he wound his arms around her waist. And he was kissing back, sweetly, gently at first, then deeper. She was flush against him, smiling into it. The music beat quietly around them, and his grip was warm, and his lips felt exactly right. Ella wanted it to never end, for the moment to last forever, alive, and never cross over and turn to mere memory.
. . .
Author's Note: Thank you so much for reading! Please let me know what you thought! Feedback is greatly appreciated!