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“Get the fuck off of me, Gilmore!” Paris yelled, jerking Rory out of her Paris-induced haze, and off of her neck.
For the last two weeks of their… well… whatever it was, this was how things had gone.
Paris would walk into their shared room, sit on Rory’s bed, and announce:
“I want to make out.”
And they would.
The first time it had caught Rory by surprise.
By the fourth time, she’d been effectively Pavlov-ed, her heart picking up speed every time Paris entered the room, even if it was just to grab a textbook or get changed.
However, their make out sessions always ended the same way. Paris suddenly deciding she was done, snapping at Rory, and then storming off, never talking about it, until she needed her next Rory fix.
This time though, instead of storming off, Paris ran to the mirror.
“What the fuck were you thinking?” she said, examining her neck. Already, a light purple mark was beginning to show.
The answer was that Rory probably wasn’t thinking. The second she got a taste of Paris’ vanilla chapstick, every thought in that Ivy League brain went out the window.
“It’s not a big deal, just put some concealer on it.” Rory said.
“I don’t have any.”
“What do you mean you don’t have any?”
“I threw it all out.”
“Why?!”
“Rory, spending 30 minutes a day applying makeup is a waste of 30 minutes I could be spending studying for the MCAT. Men aren’t expected to waste their time like that. I can’t let a man get ahead of me just because he isn’t wasting his mornings redoing his eyeliner to get it just right.”
“A) You shouldn’t be studying for the MCAT, you’re still a freshman. B) You could have kept the makeup and not worn it. I appreciate the fight against beauty standards, but there’s no harm in keeping the concealer around just in case.”
“Well, in order to fully protest it, I had to leave it all in the lab bench of that annoying guy in chem lab. He needed to know the sacrifices that women make every day.”
“Even the concealer?!!!”
“He was my shade match.”
“Ok, we can fix this. You can use some of mine.”
“There’s no way that’ll work. You have fucking porcelain doll skin. I’ll admit, it’s pretty, but really detrimental to the situation at hand here.”
“It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to cover everything while we go to the drugstore to get you some in your shade.” Rory dug around in her makeup bag for her concealer, trying to hide how red her face was getting. Did Paris just call her pretty? In a non-sarcastic way?
Paris was right, it turned out. While the difference wasn’t massive, it did stand out significantly on Paris’ slightly more tan skin.
“Ok, so how are we feeling about a turtleneck?”
“Rory, it’s April. It’s 70 degrees out. I might as well wear a neon sign that says, ‘Paris is hiding something! Guess what it is! Need a hint? Lesbian experimentation with her roommate!’”
Rory cringed a bit at the word experimentation. They hadn’t talked at all about ‘what they were’ yet. She knew they weren’t a thing or anything, but she had hoped Paris had at least acknowledged that it was something more than “I wonder what kissing a girl is like.”
“I don’t think that’s going to be the first thing their minds jump to, Paris.” Rory sighed. “What are the odds we can get to the drugstore without anyone noticing your neck?”
As soon as the words left her mouth, music started to blast out from their living room. Rory stuck her head out the door.
There were about a dozen people in the room, holding red solo cups and doing the awkward dancing one does when they haven’t had enough to drink yet.
In the middle of them all was Janet. She spotted Rory’s confused look, and yelled, “I told you about the party, right?”
She hadn’t, but Rory didn’t bother to say anything. Fighting with Janet was like fighting with a brick wall. She’d rather fight with Paris. At least then she’d get to see the cute pout she does when she’s mad.
“Okay, so bad news, there is zero chance we’re getting out of here without getting spotted.”
Paris sighed, and pulled out one of her anatomy textbooks, and started to flip through it. “Okay. According to this, it’s basically just a regular bruise, caused by broken blood vessels under the skin. If we put something cold on it, it’ll constrict the blood vessels, and that will hopefully fade it a bit. Can you go get me some ice?”
Rory left the room and entered the fray of the party, moving towards the drinks cooler. She fished a single chip of ice out, but when she turned to return to her room, Janet was behind her.
“What’s that for?”
“Oh, Paris dropped a book on her head trying to get it down from her bookshelf. I’m just getting her some ice.”
“And you’re just getting her a single ice chip?”
“It… was a paperback.”
“I’ve got some icepacks in my fridge, do you want me to get them? I can take a look at the hit too, head injuries can really mess you up in the long run.”
“NO!” Rory said, perhaps a little too quickly. A few heads turned around her, surprised by the outburst. “Um… no thanks, we’re good. Thank you for the offer though!” With that, she shoved around Janet and through the crowd to return to Paris.
Paris pressed the ice to her neck, as they waited for the mark to fade. But as the minutes ticked by, the ice was almost fully melted, and the hickey only continued to grow darker.
“Damn Gilmore, were you trying to tear my neck off?”
Rory ignored her, looking out the window and trying to gauge if they were too high up to sneak out the window. Considering they were on the fourth floor, the answer was probably yes, but if she had to hear Paris say that again, she’d seriously consider it.
“Fuck it.” Paris sighed, and started digging through the bins where they’d packed their winter clothes, finding the largest, fluffiest scarf Rory had ever seen. Lorelai had probably snuck it in there. She wrapped it around her neck, covering the hickey, along with the rest of her neck and a significant portion of her collarbone. She grabbed her wallet, and stormed outside.
“Paris? What’s up with the scarf?” Janet asked.
“Fashion choice. I’m capable of that, you know.” Paris snapped. “What’s up with the party? I’m sure your coach isn’t a fan of the underage drinking. It would really be a shame if someone told him.”
“I’m sorry you’re so boring that you can’t live with a little bit of noise for a few hours.”
“I’m sorry that your attendance at this school is based on an athletic scholarship, which could be voided at any time. Rory and I are going out, everyone better be gone by the time we’re back.”
“Fine. For the record though, that scarf looks stupid.”
Rory mouthed a ‘sorry’ at Janet, as Paris grabbed her hand and pulled her out the door.
Twenty minutes later, they sat in Paris’ car, her scarf pulled down as Rory applied the newly-purchased concealer to her neck.
“Alright. How does that look?” Rory asked, pulling back to admire her work.
“Like we didn’t just spend the better part of an evening planning around it.”
Rory mumbled a soft “Sorry,” looking away. Tonight was the first time Paris had actually referenced their makeouts outside of when they were happening, but Rory wished it was under less embarrassing circumstances.
All of a sudden, she felt a hand trace her face, pulling her back to look at Paris.
“It’s a good thing that it felt so worth it.” Paris said softly, smiling.
As she went in for the kiss, Rory could feel the grin on Paris’ lips.
It was a good thing they’d bought the large tube of concealer.