Jess didn't know how much time passed before he left the classroom. A guilty tug in his lower abdomen assured him that it had been too long. He stopped next to the entrance to the gym, tucking the empty flask back inside his jacket. He stood there for a moment. Rory would be able to tell he'd been drinking. Mr. Carraway would be able to tell too. Jess grimaced and turned away from the door. If he'd already destroyed everything, what was the harm if he left now?

The town square was unusually deserted. Not even Miss Patty's late-night yoga class was downward-dogging near the edge of Peach Street. The moon was almost full; it was bright enough to see without a flashlight. His feet knew where to go without having to tell them. He sat down, the wooden planks feeling more unforgiving than usual without his customary back-pocket book. His fingers patted around automatically for his cigarettes before he remembered that he'd quit after he and Rory started dating. The tips of his shiny black shoes drifted dangerously close to the murky water below.

"I thought I might find you here." Jess looked up. Of course she'd find him here. Hadn't he come here because he knew she'd find him? Rory carefully sat down next to him, taking care not to tear her dress on the rough wood. Her left leg pressed against his right. For a moment, they were both silent, both staring down into the water in which they could just barely make out their reflections. Neither of them looked at the other. "Why did you leave?" Rory asked, and Jess' head jerked up at how broken her voice sounded. She wasn't crying, but her lips were trembling.

"I needed some air," Jess said hoarsely. He knew she would be able to smell the whiskey on his breath.

"You needed air for an hour?" Rory asked, not making eye contact. Jess winced. Had it really been that long? He'd only planned to do a shot or two in the classroom, then head back to the dance. Dark thoughts had overtaken him, though, while he sat behind the desk, playing the part of 'teacher.' He wasn't fit to teach anybody anything. "I looked for you everywhere," she added, and his stomach sank further at the thought of Rory running around, asking people if they'd seen him. He was just fulfilling everyone's expectations.

"Is it over?" he asked. The double-meaning in his words wasn't intentional, but his breath caught in his throat as he imagined the responses she could give.

Instead, Rory just shrugged. "A lot of people are still there," she offered. So she'd chosen to take his words at face value. Then: "Jess, what's wrong? Please tell me." She finally looked straight at him and grabbed one of his hands. "You never tell me." The corners of her lips turned downwards and he felt an ache in his chest. He could never make her happy. She'd always been happy with Dean.

"Go find Dean," Jess muttered, ignoring the tear of pain that shot through him as he said the words. He snuck a look at Rory out of the corner of his eye and winced inwardly. She looked like he'd slapped her. But she stood her ground.

"Why would I want to find Dean?" she shot back at him, angry now. Her hands were clenched into fists in her lap. Jess watched the moonlight bouncing off the endless glitter on her dress and the gloss of tears in her eyes. He swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and stood up. The whiskey had affected him more than he realized, probably because he'd missed dinner, and he almost lost his balance. His hand shot out and automatically grabbed onto Rory's shoulder. She hadn't been expecting all of Jess' weight to land on her and she tipped sideways. Not again, Jess thought before they both hit the water with a splash.

Jess kept his eyes tightly shut. Who knew what sort of dirt and grime was in this pond? His heavy suit weighted him down, but he was able to fight his way to the surface without too much trouble. "Rory?" he called as soon as he refilled his lungs with air. "Rory?" He glanced about desperately. Did she know how to swim? Then she heard her peal of laughter and whipped around, his hair flipping water droplets into the air. She was bobbing behind him, her hair completely ruined, her eye makeup running all over her face. And she was cracking up. "Rory?" Jess said once more, now slightly concerned for her sanity.

She reached out her arms and grabbed him. "Bet you're sobered up now, huh?" she asked, a huge, delighted smile on her face. Her wet hair reminded him of the day she hadn't been able to turn off the sprinklers in that weird neighbor's yard. Dean had come to her rescue that day, too, he remembered dejectedly. As if she knew what he was thinking, Rory continued, "I was gonna say…why would I want to find Dean? I came to find you. Why do you always think I don't want you?" she asked, cocking her head at him curiously.

Because nobody ever has, Jess thought. Then, almost before he realized what was happening, he said it out loud, too. "Because nobody ever has." His shoulders came up almost to meet his ears and he self-consciously pushed his wet hair back. To his surprise, Rory didn't give him that pitying look he was so accustomed to. That look was why he'd stopped saying things like "Because nobody ever has" and why he'd started using sarcasm as a defense mechanism. He could remember how shocked Liz was the first time he'd ever talked back to her, when he was nine. Rory just looked at him in that particular Rory way of hers – not pitying, not resentful, not judgmental – and grabbed his hand.

"We should probably get out of the water," she said. He allowed her to lead him onto the shore, which was really just a thick strip of mud. Her shoes caught in the sticky muck, so he slipped an arm behind her back and lifted her. She gasped, but allowed him to carry her the few steps back to the bridge, where he deposited her gently. Her arms immediately wrapped around herself. She was shivering, despite the humid June air. "Can we go to Luke's?" she ventured, knowing he'd prefer that to returning to the dance.

"Are you sure?" Jess asked. He was more than certain that he'd already ruined her prom an hour ago, but he wouldn't pass up the opportunity to possibly fix it. He was always trying and failing to fix things. Luke was Mr. Fix-It. Jess was just…Mr. Try-to-Fix-It. Rory nodded, smiling, and took his hand before they made their way back to the town square, Jess' shoes squelching with every step. "Told you I'd end up face-down in a pool," he muttered.

"Come on, Gatsby, at least your Daisy's still here," Rory replied, and he couldn't help giving her a small smile.

A/N: And there you have it! Read and review!

I might try to do a little sequel - maybe just a one-shot - where Rory goes to Europe and Jess goes to California, and how they stay in touch during that time, but this is it for now.