One In The Same - Jess Mariano

Til This Moment, I Never Knew Myself

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Y/N POV

  An alarm jolts me awake, and I force myself out of the warm bed to switch it off. Oh God, I'm gonna be late for school. I rush to pick up any clothes I can get my hands on, and run into the bathroom, slipping on a pair of fishnet tights, a dark blue checked skirt and a black tshirt as quickly as possible without falling flat on my ass. Picking up my school bag, I bolt for the door, managing, by some grace of God, not to trip on any of the narrow wooden steps.

  I don't even greet Luke, just sprint out the door all the way to school. Geez, my lungs were not prepared for this - not just because of smoking, I also hand in sick notes for 90% of my gym classes, they're a waste of energy. When I get to Stars Hollow High, I notice Lane starting to head inside, but I catch up to her, and she takes in my wheezing appearance.

  "Good morning to you too," She laughs, as I struggle to form a sentence. "Wake up late this morning?"

  "Why else would I be running? I'm not one to randomly take up a hobby out of nowhere," My heart slows from its racing speed, and I continue, "I know what I'm good at, and I avoid what I'm not."

  "I didn't just mean the 50 yard sprint, I'm talking about that shirt. Now, don't get me wrong, Metallica - great band. But that shirt? Gross," She laughs, pointing down to the clothing on my chest, and I follow her finger to give it a look for myself. My ears start burning with a vibrant pink tone. This isn't my shirt, and I feel blessed that Lane wasn't in Luke's a couple days ago, or she would have heard Lorelai and Rory saying the same thing - near verbatim - when Jess strolled in wearing this to start his shift that day.

  How could I be so stupid to wear one of Jess' shirts. Now that I think about it, it even smells like him. After sharing a bed, all of me smells like him, my hair, my skin... Everything. Lane doesn't seem to notice the blush that covers my whole body, and instead gestures over her shoulder to an open classroom door.

  "I've got to go now. Pre-calc, wish me luck," And then she's gone.

  I sigh, embarrassed in my own mess I've made for myself, and pray no one else makes a comment about what I'm wearing for the rest of the day. I head into Art History, and notice Dean's eyes widen slightly from the back of the room. Of course.

  Slipping into my seat, I brace myself for the onslaught of questions about to be fired into my skull from the big friendly giant. "Where do I recognise that shirt from? I swear it's on the tip of my ton-"

  "Shut up," I punch his arm, that was holding up his head in a pondering sort of pose, and he bellows out a laugh.

  "Sleeping with the enemy, huh?"

  "I'm not sleeping with him."

  "You reek of that Tony Manero wannabe, and that paired with the hair, and lest we forget that shirt? Come on."

  "I'm not lying... He got sick, okay? So I took care of him, and we fell asleep, that's it."

  "Oh right. So, you aren't sleeping with him but you are... sleeping with him."

  "Ignoring you now,"

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3rd person POV

  Y/N sluggishly walks back into Luke's diner, head down, the weight of the day crushing her down. Jess is standing behind the counter, complaining to Luke about some sort of muscle ache or pain, but he stops when he notices Y/N's entry. His mouth slowly opens, and he points at her.

  "See, I told you that shirt was nice," He says to Luke, who's eyes dart to look at the girl, and he chuckles.

  "She pulls it off better than you there, Jess."

  "Okay. Leaving now," the girl says, wishing to just sink into the floor. Jess just follows her, like an animal hunting its prey. "You're better, then, ay?"

  "Oh yeah. I think you have healing properties," His body never leaves her side, even up the thin staircase. "I like your shirt."

  "Really, wow, I was thinking of burning it, but I'll take your opinion into account," She snarks.

  "If you wanted to borrow something of mine, you could've just asked."

  "Leave me alone, I'm taking it off, it's yours." Fed up with the constant teasing, Y/N rips off the shirt, right in the living area and throws on her favourite hoodie. Slamming into her bed, she misses the shocked look of her tormentor, who is standing, motionless, holding the shirt that was thrown at him in his hands. It's obviously not the first time he's seen her without a shirt, but the fact that it happened again, especially now that he'd gained full usage of his brain, made his breath catch in his throat.

  He walks back down to the diner, not knowing what to say, and heads off on a walk. Making his way to the secluded bridge by the lake, he pulls out 'Pride and Prejudice' by Jane Austen. Flicking through the pages, he can't help but look into his margin notes, thinking that the development of Elizabeth and Mr Darcy's relationship blossoms from distrust and hatred into a binding, strong love.

  "Shit," He huffs out, staring out into the landscape of tall trees, and passing swans. Up to this point, he questioned why all of his thoughts were flooded with this girl. He wondered why it gave him so much pleasure when he got her attention, seeing her as feelings bubbled up beneath the surface. Why, when he was feverish, he felt like the only thing that could make him feel less like he was being burned from the inside-out, was being with her.

  He starts scribbling more in the margins, and one quote that he noticed himself coming back to, time and time again was as follows. "I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I had begun."

  Though this book wasn't one that he thought he would enjoy, he always felt a connection to the wisdom within it. Yet it was only now that Jess felt how the more romantic aspects drew him in, spiralling him out of control, crumbling down his walls that built up out of self-preservation throughout his troubling upbringing. Seeing his mother and the way she was treated by the men in her life fed into a harmful, melancholic look into the idea of love. Of sharing a life with someone, letting someone in. It never made sense until now. He knew he was fucked.

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