Title: When She Cries

Book: II
Chapter: Fifteen
Chapter Title: A New Feel Dirty

Rating: R.
Coupling: Ultimately: Eh, who cares?

Disclaimer: Aye, captain. I hold no deeds to Gilmore Girls. And I don’t own matchbox twenty’s Busted.
Author’s Note: To Dannie. She just doesn’t get enough credit for teaching me how to write a bitch so very well. Oh, this chapter? All Jess and Kait’s fault. Enjoy.

 

 

*

 

 

I found out one life just ain't enough/I need another soul to feed on/
I'm the flame I can't get burnt/I'm wholly understated.

 

 

            Harvard. The school of past Gellar’s dreams and heritage. The school his mother had built up to him his entire life. And on the ride up, and up until they separated the parents from the students. Luckily he had evaded her during the lunch hour. He loved his mother; it had been his mantra the past few hours.

 

            “Hey,” a voice approached him. “Is this the Gabriel Knight, um, grouppage?”

 

            Dallie looked up into a pair of grey eyes. “Uh, yeah.”

 

"Good," the girl ran her hand through her shoulder length brown hair, and sat next to him on the bench. "I'm Sierra Parke, and yes my parents do hate me, and this," she gestured to the curly blonde that was still standing. "Is my friend Kait Giddings."

 

"I'm Dallie Mariano," he introduced. "And my parents don't. Hate me, that is."

 

"That's sad," Kait spoke up, as she sat down on the bench next to Sierra. "You lack an excuse."

 

"I've gotten over it."

 

"I like it," Sierra declared. "How much longer until lunch is over?"

 

Dallie looked at his watch. “Eight minutes.”

 

Sierra sighed. “This is causing me lassitude. Apparently it’s not enough I have a set way on how to get into Harvard.”

 

“And what’s that?”

“Nepotism,” Sierra stated simply.

 

“Her father’s the Dean of Admissions,” Kait explained.

 

Sierra nodded. "Constant source of annoyance." She looked over her shoulder where the Dean himself was talking to latecomers. "God, I need a cigarette."

 

"You smoke?" It was a stupid question, Dallie knew, but it was a reflexive one.

 

"No, I quit," Sierra sighed again. "Recovering from my bad girl phase and the lingering effects are sucking."

 

“I’m sorry,” Dallie offered for lack of a better response.

 

Kait snorted. “Yeah, she’s getting back to her impish roots.” Her cell phone rang. “Oh, that’s Atticus.” And then she walked away to find some privacy.

 

"Her boyfriend," Sierra informed him as she rummaged through her purse. She pulled out a candy cigarette. "You want one?"

 

"No, that's okay," he declined. "So do you have a place for once you get into Harvard or do you plan to let nepotism guide your way?"

 

“God, no,” she bit off the end. “I plan on going through the pre-law program. And then really pissing my father off by attending Yale Law School afterwards.”

 

“Planning a future return to a bad girl phase?”

Sierra’s eyes sparkled at the suggestion. “It appears so. Though I plan to take a few years off between the two. Sort of like my Backpacking through Europe trip. Except between colleges.”

 

“Is back packing through Europe your plan?”

 

            “No, I want to do something far more original,” Sierra informed him, her entire being transformed into something more vivacious, brighter as she spoke. She wanted this. And she was going to get it. “Like Alaska.”

 

            “Good place for teachers,” Dallie commented to her, “Not so much for people with an affinity for warmer climates.”

 

            Sierra laughed lightly as Kait made her way back to the bench. “Well?”

 

            Kait sighed dramatically as she fell back into her seat on the bench. “Atticus says Tyler’s being a bitch again.”

 

            “Shocker.”

 

            Dallie figured he was better off not knowing.

 

Another brunette hesitantly approached them. “Is this where people for the Gabriel Knight tour meet?”

 

“Yes,” Kait replied. “Come, sit down, and annoy the boy. It’s fun.”

 

“I’m Roxy,” the girl introduced herself before sitting on the grass beside the bench.

 

“Do you want to sit here, cause I can move,” Dallie offered.

 

Roxy shook her head, “No I prefer the ground. But thanks.”

 

A lanky eighteen-year-old boy with curly mahogany hair joined them. He took in Dallie sitting there. And then looked at the three girls surrounding him. “Damn. I should have gotten here earlier.”

 

*

 

            Being ditched in your own hometown was a little on the odd side, Devon Mariano reflected as he walked across the living room to answer the door. He had dropped Ashley off at the Hanes’s two hours ago. And no one was home. His father was at work, his mother and brother at Harvard and his sister at her college. One never realized how big the house was until he was alone in it. He pulled open the door and saw Lola DuGrey standing there. Black leather skirt, white pleasant blouse and lace up boots. Definitely a welcomed sight.

 

            “Dallie’s at Harvard,” he informed her as he stepped aside.

 

            “I know that,” Lola replied as she walked past him and into the house. “I came to see you, darling.”

 

            Devon smiled back at her before closing the door. “Really had nothing better to do?”

 

            “Not until Z’s party,” Lola answered before sitting down on the couch. She waited until he sat down next to her before draping her legs across his lap.

 

            “Watch what marks you leave behind,” he warned her.

 

            “My shoes are spotless,” she brushed it off and slid closer to him. “No worries.”

 

            Devon let his hands come down to rest at the edge of her skirt. “You sure about that, Lo?”

 

            Lola licked her lips, “Positive. It took me twenty-five minutes to lace the damned things. I know every inch of them.”

 

            He looked down at the exposed skin between the hem of her skirt and the top of her boots. And then his gaze traveled up to her moistened ruby lips. He had almost forgotten how dangerous Lola was. It was amazing how much someone thirty months his junior could appear so much older. Then again, she had been surprising him with her desirability since he was fifteen.

 

            “You know,” Lola’s voice jolted him out of his reverie. And she toyed with the collar of his shirt. “There was this time when you were in town and we started something that we never got to finish.”

 

            Blue met blue. Devon gulped. “No one’s home.”

 

            “Good for us,” Lola kissed him, and smiled before she shifted off his lap. Kneeling, on the floor, in between his legs, she leaned forwards and kissed him on the side of the mouth before working her way down to is neck and then lower…

 

            This was wrong. So very, very wrong. Right?

 

To Be Continued…

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