AUTHOR: The Instigator
RATING: G
CHARACTERS / PAIRING: Rory/Lane Convo
SUMMARY: The day after Madeline's party. Can you guess the topic of conversation?
DISCLAIMER: I'm sorry. That's all I'll say.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Ok, so it's short. Does that surprise you? As usual I was just goofing around and avoiding doing things that I should have devoted my time to. This is just meaningless chatter. Perhaps I need to stop listening to the voices in my head.

“You did what?” She glanced at her best friend with a look of astonishment.

“Really, it’s not a big deal.” Rory flipped the pages of the magazine, focusing her attention away from the conversation. Her attempt to convince her best friend masked the true intent to convince herself. It wasn’t a big deal. It couldn’t be.

Lane reached across the bed and pulled the magazine away from her. Closing it and tossing it to the side, she looked her in the eye. “Not a big deal? This is huge. Monumental. The Mideast peace process pales in comparison to this.”

Rory rolled her eyes and reached for the magazine. “You really have become quite the drama queen haven’t you?”

Lane again took the magazine from Rory’s grasp, tossing it further away this time. “How can you pretend this is nothing? You say it like you’re telling me you got another ‘A’ in History.” Mimicking Rory’s previous movements, she pretended to be filing her nails as she replayed the scene. “Oh by the way, I kissed Tristan last night. What is that?”

Rory rolled over from her stomach, reaching for her English notebook on the floor. “I’m not pretending. It was nothing.” She flipped to her notes from that week. “I only brought it up because I thought you had a right to know. We’re best friends and we tell each other everything.”

Lane crossed her legs in front of her and leaned back against the headboard. “So you’re telling me that you kissed this boy last night, the boy who up until that moment you hated with every fiber of your being, but that it didn’t mean anything.”

“That’s what I said.”

“And you didn’t feel a tingling sensation or butterflies in your stomach,” she pressed on.

“Not a thing.” Rory was vaguely aware that her stomach was currently contradicting that statement.

Lane paused a second. “So, let me get this straight. My best friend, who was so excited over her first kiss that she practically ran to tell me about it, kisses another boy, on the day after she breaks up with her boyfriend, and I’m supposed to believe that she was overcome by some primal urge and her choice of lip locking partners was completely random.”

Rory looked her in the eyes. “Call it temporary insanity.”

“Are you sure it was temporary?”

Rory rolled her eyes again.

“And you never want to kiss him again?”, she prodded.

Rory scoffed.

“Do you regret it?”

Rory was caught offgaurd by the question. Did she regret it? She hadn’t even considered it. Slightly sidestepping the question she phrased her answer. “There was nothing to regret. It didn’t mean anything.”

“I’m sorry, but I’m not buying it.” She leaned forward pulling the nearest pillow into her lap. “My best friend of 15 years does not go around kissing boys for fun. There has to be some deeper meaning here.”

“Tristan and I are just friends. Not even that. We’re merely acquaintances. End of story.”

Lane glared at her bowed head. “Come on Rory. I know you don’t believe that.” She crossed her legs in front of her. “We’ve been watching When Harry Met Sally once a month for the last 10 years. It’s just like Harry says. Men and women cannot be friends because all of that sexual tension gets in the way.”

Rory grabbed the highlighter out of her bag and dragged it across the notebook paper. The color seeped out around the words and through the sheet to the backside. “O.K. Dr. Freud. Analyze my psyche. Tell me what sexual connotations controlled my actions and why it all results from my feelings of abandonment over growing up without my father in the house.”

Lane reached for the discarded magazine. She wasn‘t happy with her friend‘s lack of information. “Fine. I’ll drop it.”

The two girls continued to read their respective works for the next few minutes. Rory didn’t notice as Lane’s eyes wandered from the paper to stare at her. And had she realized this was her best friend, she should have known she wouldn’t drop it so easily.

Lane shifted on the bed. “Oh. I almost forgot to tell you. Henry kissed me last night.”

Rory’s eyes shot up from her notebook. “Really? That’s so great.” She pulled herself into a seated position ready to share in her friends joy.

It was Lane’s turn to roll her eyes. “No not really. You just proved my point. Kissing does mean something.”

Rory groaned to herself. “I hate you.”

Lane continued to flip through the magazine. “Well, I hope you’re not going to kiss me now, because you seem to have a habit of kissing people you hate.”

Rory grabbed the pillow and swung it at her best friend, laughing as it softly landed against her head.