Inbetween Days (Jess Mariano x Reader)

Chapter 8

Good times for a change

See, the luck I've had

Can make a good man

Turn bad

So please, please, please

Let me, let me, let me

Let me get what I want

This time

It would require a Ouija board to summon the spirit of Carl Jung to figure out why on earth Jess Mariano started speaking to me. It stemmed from a positive comment about my "Sock It To Me, Baby!" button that our Lit teacher forced me to remove, and continued with a steady exchange of CDs. He became my source for all things punk - it turned out he didn't just listen to the music in an attempt to tick off his family, he loved the culture, and took an interest in the politics, too. I never could have bought a copy of Punk Planet without setting off major alarms with the parental units, but he even went to the extent of stapling them into the covers of new (probably stolen) Better Homes and Gardens editions for me. One thing Lane and I shared was the floorboard lifestyle, including the double dressing. I would show up to school, stripping off an outer layer to reveal newly ripped creations of my own design, he would laugh when he saw me and guess immediately which rocker I was emulating.

Another thing we eventually bonded over was literature. That started when I invited him over to my place for a "study date" that was actually a CD burning session. My mom made us lemonade, and he actually managed to be something closely resembling friendly before we disappeared up the stairs. He got one look at my bookshelf and fell silent for a full twenty minutes examining it. I settled against my pillows on my bed and sipped my lemonade, watching him. He inspected my extensive Salinger collection and emerged with the natural conclusion.

"No Catcher in the Rye?"

"I'd heard it wasn't good. Didn't want to waste my money."

"There are these things called libraries, you can read whatever you want without keeping it."

"I tried, but I'm horrible about due dates. I'm pretty sure I'm the only girl in Stars Hollow to ever get her library card suspended. I completely blank."

"You amaze me."

"Please, I know you hate me."

"I definitely don't hate you. . . I've got to get you some more biographies, you're lacking."

"I've got Pete Shotton's account of young John, what other lives do you even need to know about?"

"Yeah, other than. . ." he scanned the spines once more for reference, "Madame de Pompadour and Catherine de Medici? Should I be worried?"

"No more than usual." I set my empty glass on the nightstand and crawled to the end of my bed, where I lay flat on my stomach, my face right at his elbow in the small room. 

"What are you doing?"

"Getting closer. Observing my habitat through the eyes of a newcomer."

"Ri-ight." Jess rose to his feet, taking in my whole room. Kneeling beside my record crates, he instantly began digging.

"You're quite the snoop."

"Yep." He flicked through all of my Beatles with disinterest before deliberately slowing down. "Seeing a lot of Bowie. . . like a LOT."

"Yeah, well, he's a god."

"Fair enough. The Mammas and the Papas, though?"

"It was cheap, and it's got I Call Your Name on it."

He got to my singles and was immediately more impressed. "Now, this is the worrying amount of Blondie I expected from you."

"What do you mean?"

"Please, you cut your hair like Debbie Harry."

"I do not!"

"Do, too. I've seen you on the days you forget to do your hair, it's a bit curly but you straighten it out. Do you dye it, too? It's basically the same color." He came over to look at me like he was about to inspect my roots. I covered my head and ducked.

"I do not dye my hair! Anyway, you're one to judge my hair routine. How long did the bouffant take you this morning, Billy Joe?"

"Shut up." But he smiled as he finally turned to my CDs.

I smirked, feeling like I'd won.

 "Hey, did you bring your stuff?"

"Like I said, I keep my promises." Jess opened his backpack to reveal at least thirty CDs. "You can take your pick, we'll switch out the cases so your mom doesn't know what you have - pull a Bambi." I laughed at the reference to our recent prank, though it was tainted, like many of our interactions, by the bitter memory of his behavior about Rory Gilmore.

"Hey!" he cried defensively, diving into my CD tower for an album, "And she makes fun of me for liking metal." He was holding up a copy of Sehnsucht by Rammstein.

"It's my dad's." I said quickly.

"Oh, yeah? Then what's it doing up here?"

"It got lost! My mom's country albums were being mean to it! They kicked it out, it had nowhere else to stay!" I tried to grab the case from my place on the bed, but he held it over his head, causing my mother to walk in on a playful game of keep-away when she heard our voices rise. Jess moved fast, kicking his open backpack against the bed to keep the contents hidden before she could even see him move.

"Having fun?" She looked between the two of us, and when she looked at Jess her voice was warm and welcoming, but when she looked at me she made it clear that no 'fun' would be had in that bedroom - like there was any chance of that anyway.

"We'll keep it down, mom."

"Yeah, real sorry, Mrs. Y/l/n." 

My mom left the door wide open when she left, and could be heard making the bed in the next room. Jess raised his eyebrows at me the moment her back was turned, eyes positively sparkling. He bit his lower lip and squinted, sending a two-fingered salute at her back and looking like a wannabe Sid Vicious. My eyes must have gone perfectly round. To save face, he grabbed my textbooks from my desk and left them open on the bed in front of me while we went through each others' CDs. We each ended up with a nice variety, though I felt like I had gotten the better end of the deal by far. When it was time for dinner, my mom didn't offer him any even though there was more than plenty, so Jess took the hint and headed back to the diner. So in the end it was my mother's own perception that caused her to dislike Jess, rather than his natural coarseness. I had been more shocked at her taking to Jess at all, so I felt like the world had gone back to normal. I waved goodbye from my bedroom window, and I could see him squinting very hard in my direction, though I wasn't sure what his aim was. 

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Song at the beginning is "Please Please Please Let me Get What I Want" by The Deftones