oy with the poodles

"I’m not wallowing," Rory muttered, though she knew Paris wasn’t entirely wrong.

"Of course not," Paris said, rolling her eyes. "Which is why this is the first time you’ve left our apartment in, oh, I don’t know—three weeks."

"I’ve been busy," Rory protested.

"Yeah. Busy wallowing," Paris shot back.

Rory snapped her mouth shut. She couldn’t exactly deny it.

After her breakup with Logan, she had thrown herself into schoolwork, burying herself under textbooks and assignments. Catching up after missing a semester wasn’t easy, but with Paris’ relentless—if slightly terrifying—support, she was back on track.

Paris marched ahead, scanning the rows of vibrant festival stalls like a commander plotting a battle strategy. "Alright, where do you want to start? Japanese, Chinese, Thai?" She glanced at a newspaper clipping she’d stuffed into her coat pocket. "According to The Hartford Times, the pho here won an award, so we should probably save that for last."

Rory paused, contemplating. There were too many choices. The smell of sizzling scallion pancakes mixed with the rich aroma of grilled yakitori skewers, and somewhere in the distance, she caught a whiff of sweet red bean pastries.

Paris straightened with purpose. "We’ve got exactly twenty minutes before the lion dance starts, so I suggest we divide and conquer. You take the dumpling stall at Golden Wok, I’ll grab takoyaki from Hanamura, and we’ll regroup at Seoul Bites for tteokbokki and hotteok - what’s so funny?"

Rory, trying and failing to suppress her laughter, shook her head. "Nothing, just… I feel like your lieutenant, and we’re about to conquer the entire Asian continent together."

Paris smiled back, her face soft in the glow of the red lantern light. For a brief moment, she looked almost… gentle. Rory’s stomach flipped—a strange, fluttery feeling .

Suddenly, a familiar voice cut through the crowd.

Rory straightened, pushing down the swirl of emotions rising in her chest. "Yeah, well, surprise."

Paris stepped forward, placing herself between them like a bodyguard. "Move along, Mariano." She barked. "We’re here to enjoy the festivities, not relive the tragic saga of Rory Gilmore and her poor taste in men."

Jess snorted. "Nice to see you’re still your usual charming self, Paris."

"Nice to see you’re still an emotionally unavailable mess," Paris shot back.

Rory exhaled sharply. "Paris—"

"No, Rory, I will not stand idly by while this walking bad decision tries to ruin your night," Paris snapped. She turned back to Jess. "You have a lot of nerve showing up here after the way you treated her."

Jess’ smirk faltered. "I didn’t—"

"You broke up with her, disappeared, and then waltzed back into her life and screamed I love you! And then, surprise surprise, you ran away again," Paris continued, pointing an accusatory finger at him. "She deserves better than that."

The drumming from the lion dance performance grew louder, but the tension between them was louder still. Rory felt heat rise to her face—not just from embarrassment, but from the frustration still lingering from all those years ago.

"I don’t need you to fight my battles, Paris," she muttered.

"Someone has to," Paris huffed.

Jess shifted uncomfortably. "Look, I didn’t mean to—"

"You never mean to," Rory interrupted. She swallowed hard, meeting his gaze. "But that doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt."

For a moment, Jess didn’t say anything. The distant pop of firecrackers punctuated the silence between them. Finally, he nodded, looking down. "Yeah. I get it."

Paris scoffed. "Doubtful."

She folded her arms, eyes sharp. "Look, we could stand here all night rehashing this until the next new year, or you could do what you do best—just walk away."

Rory froze. Paris' eyes were like twin flames of rage, reflecting the red lights of the lanterns around them. For one long, tense, moment, she stared Jess down.

Jess exhaled, shaking his head. For a second, something flickered across his face—understanding, regret, maybe both. "You know what? You two enjoy the festival. I’ll get out of your way."

To Rory, he muttered a barely audible, "Sorry."

Rory couldn't find it in herself to respond.

Without another word, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

Paris watched him go, arms still crossed. "Good riddance."

Rory let out a shaky breath, staring at the space Jess had just occupied. She wasn’t sure how she felt—relieved, angry, sad? Maybe all three.

Paris placed a hand on her shoulder. Despite the chilly night, it felt warm. Solid. An anchor in the turbulent seas that was Jess Mariano.

"Come on. Let’s go find something deep-fried and smothered in sugar. It’s the least you deserve after that emotional ambush."

Rory smiled, small but genuine. "Thanks, Paris."

"Anytime, Gilmore. Anytime."

Paris' eyes sparkled under the lantern's glow, bright and protective and fierce all at once. Rory found herself reaching up, lacing their fingers together.