ROSEMARY STARTED GOING TO PARTIES at the age of fifteen, only two years ago. Although she didn't start drinking until her sixteenth birthday, spent with her then-boyfriend Jake, who celebrated by buying her her first alcoholic drink. She was reluctant to drink it at first, but then, all her family and guardian's tales on peer-pressure went down the drain when she chugged her first bottle of beer.

She stared at herself in the mirror, running her fingers through her hair. She didn't walk away until she made sure there was nothing glaringly wrong with how she looked. She added a touch of makeup— her usual mascara that she'd steal from Lorelai's dresser, a tinted lipgloss and a touch of blush.

    When she stepped out of her room, she bumped into Rory. "Sorry—" She observed her floral dress, then asked; "Going somewhere?"

    "Harrington's throwing a party."

Rory nodded in recognition. "Oh, yeah, i'm going too, with a friend." She added the last part edgily.

"You are?"

With a small frown, she asked; "Why do you sound so surprised?"

Rosie reconstructed her surprised face into a neutral expression to avoid offence. "I'm not, it's just that don't usually go to parties." She made her way to the kitchen to sneak a snack into her bag.

"That's not true— remember the party after new years?"

"When you left ten minutes later to watch a movie with Dean? I vaguely remember." Rosie leaned in, nudging her teasingly. "So, who's the friend? Lane?"

"No, Lane's still at church camp." Rory sighed. "She's coming back next week, though."

"Oh." She tried to recall who else it might be, but was left clueless. "So, who is it?"

She saw her considering telling her for a moment, but then shrugging in a casual manner. "I guess you'll find out tonight." She mimicked Rosie. 

"Vague. Mysterious." Rosie pointed out, narrowing her eyes at the girl. "I'm intrigued."

   "Learned a little something from you."

   "Don't learn too much, I don't think Lorelai can handle another Rosie under her supervision, or else she might turn into the conservative mom from Almost Famous."  Before Rory could point out the inaccuracy of the reference, Lorelai stepped into the kitchen.

    "Hey, I have a dilemma I need your opinion on; am I more beautiful today than I was yesterday?" She asked hopefully before she stopped to observe the two. "Were you talking about me? I feel like you were talking to me."

"Jeez, it's like you have a sixth sense with these things."

"It's probably why I always get this tingly feeling when I walk past Babette." She knelt to the far end of the counter to grab her car key.

"Well, you might not to be wrong, because I did hear her mention something about all the cake you ate last night." Rory eluded, grabbing her coat from the hanger.

"Hey, if eating that much cake is wrong, then maybe I don't want to be right!"

Rory stared at her inquisitively. "Hey, random question; the house is burning, you can only save me and Rosie or the cake, who are you choosing?"

"That's not fair, the cake doesn't have legs!"

"Impossible woman."

Lorelai shrugged a shoulder. Her gaze lingered on the two before finally asking; "Why are you two dressed up, is Miss Patty hosting another party i'm not invited to?"

"We're going to a high school party."

"You are?" Lorelai asked skeptically. "You know we could just still home and watch teenagers do that on television instead of you guys doing it yourself, right? It's called living vicariously through fictional characters."

"Or we can actually live it, since the night is young, and so are we." Rosie intertwined her arms with Rory's. "Unless you don't want us to go?"

    "Hey, if the conservative mom from Almost Famous let her fifteen year-old go on a road trip with a rock band, of course i'll let you high schoolers go to a high school party."

   Rosie faked a dramatic gasp. "So you don't have a six sense!"

   "No, just abnormally elevated hearing."  She walked the two to the door, placing her arms on their shoulders. "Go, have fun, just don't get drunk and make some enemies."

     "Enemies?" Rory arched an eyebrow. "When did we leave Stars Hollow and move to Salem?"

    "I so would've been burned by the stake by now." Rosie muttered as she bit down on the apple. When they stepped out of the house after saying their final goodbyes to Lorelai, she turned to Rory. "I'm meeting up with Kayla halfway— you coming with?"

    Rory shook her head. "No, i'm stopping by at Luke's first, but i'll see you two there." She nodded and walked away.

All parties hosted by her school classmates took place on the outskirts of town, otherwise there would've been dramatic headlines on the Stars Hollow newspaper on the underage drinking and rebellious teenage activities. It just so happened to be that Chuck Harrington was one of the very few people in her class that lived on the outskirts of town, so he was relied on by the entire student body to host these parties.

    When Rosie walked in alongside Kayla, she saw the usual high school party routine; a game of spin the bottle by the living room floor, people subtly swaying to the pop music blasted from the speakers, an abundance of people by the keg, and secluded friend groups in circles. It was nothing wild, but it was certainly a cliche.

    After fifteen minutes of roaming around the house alongside Kayla, she concluded her story with; "So I asked him if we could go out, and he said maybe."

    "That's a no." Rosie deadpanned.

    "No, a maybe is a maybe."

    "No," She corrected as they strolled around the party. She past by the crowd of people, her eyes roaming around the familiar faces for a specific person. "a sure is a maybe. A maybe is a no, and a why not is also a no. A yes would be a yes. Capeesh?"

    "What if he did mean maybe?" Kayla chanced brightly. "Not everyone talks in code, you know, some people are just that straightforward."

    Rosie tucked a piece of wilted hair behind her ear, then pinned Kayla with a considerate look. "If his maybe did infact mean maybe, then its a maybe leaning towards no."

    "You know, with that logic, you're saying that one time Brandon Meyers asked me out, my maybe meant no. When really, my 'maybe' was a definite yes, but I just didn't want to seem desperate. And by that logic, then..." Kayla continued to elaborate on her theory. Rosie attempted her best to appear interested, but the more the time passed by the more her attention drifted to the group of boys at the other end of the room, her eyes roaming around the faces in search of Jake.

    Her attention was cut short when Kayla snapped her fingers in front of her face. "Huh?"

    "Looking for someone?" Kayla asked with all-knowing glint in her eyes. Instead of answering, she let out a sigh, which revealed Kayla's unspoken suspicions to be true. "You know what you and Jake are? You're a party couple."

    Rosie remained unfazed, pouring herself alcohol in a red cup. "That's not a thing."

    "Sure it is, you're living proof." Kayla said. "A party couple are two people who know they're bad for each other, but at every party or dance, always find their way back to each other purely to satisfy their sex drives."

    "Okay, one; you made that up on the spot." She responded. "Two; not true, either way. Three; satisfy our sex drive?" She mocked in a half-groan, half-laugh.

    When she looked down to see her cup already empty, she grabbed the entire bottle of alcohol from the kitchen counter. If she did end up seeing Jake tonight, she had a feeling she would want to be under the influence, just enough to drown out her code of ethics.

   "Fine."  She shrugged. "Then you won't care he's not here tonight."

     Rosie did a double-take at her best friend to tell if she was lying or not. She's not lying, she observed.

   "I won't." Rosie replied determinedly, but felt the disappointment in the pit of her stomach. She wasn't so used to going to parties without Jake taunting her throughout the night, almost testing her, seeing how fast she'd come back each time. "And you know what..." Her eyes scanned the room until it landed on the party's hist, Chuck Harrington. "Maybe i'll test the waters with Chuck tonight."

    Kayla laughed, but cut it short when she realised Rosie was serious. "Oh— you're not kidding?"

    "What? He's hot." She objectified, tilting her head as she observed him. Chuck was generally an okay person, and it helped that because he lived significantly far away, she wasn't so bored of seeing him around town. "So what if he's a little..." She paused to think of a fitting adjective. Dull? Unintelligent? Moronic?  "Dry." 

    "He used to think chocolate milk came from brown cows, Rosie."

    "That was seventh grade– besides, he's hot now!" She sipped straight from the bottle. "And i'm drunk enough to tune whatever he says out, and focus more on the physique." The more she stared at him, his white shirt that clung to his muscly arms and wide-eyed gaze that lit up as he laughed with his friends, she couldn't remember a reason why not to approach him. "You know what, i'm going for it."

    "You know what," Kayla countered. "I think i'll allow you this one mistake. Just so you'll listen to me next time."

    "Sounds like a fair deal."

    Before she approached Chuck, she first lingered around close proximity to him. She glanced hastily towards him every now and then as she made small talk with one of her school friends. Eventually, he started paying attention to her. She'd turn to him, and catch him looking. It helped that he was a womaniser, and wouldn't pass up the opportunity to approach a seemingly interested pretty girl.

    Before she knew it, he approached her. "Hey." He smiled charmingly at her, sliding to the chair next to hers. "Let me guess, got into a fight with your boyfriend?"

    That's a pathetic way of figuring out if i'm still taken. Rosie was genuinely caught off guard, which was more than she ever expected from him. "Actually, I don't have a boyfriend." She said slowly.

    "Well, then, that's good news to me." He flashed her a grin. After a moment of silence, he said; "You know, i've been looking at you all night." Eight minutes, she corrected in her head. "You looked.. sad. And the whole time, I was like, damn, I wonder what idiot hurt such a pretty girl."

    Rosie was hoping his pathetic pick-up lines were a result of him being drunk, and that his sober self knew how ridiculous they sounded. Otherwise, she would make a note to stay away from his sober self. "You're not so good at observing people, are you?" She asked rhetorically.

    Chuck, surprised by her candour, let out a brittled laugh. "Not really, no." With growing courage, he leaned into her, taking a new approach. "You know what, how about you tell me what you're thinking? An honest truth. That way I won't sound stupid trying to figure you out by myself."

     Rosie chugged whatever was left from the bottle to fight the urge to correct him on the 'honest truth' bit. A truth was honest, that was the entire definition of a truth— but she bit down her tongue and overcame her admittedly pretentious pet peeve. "Hand me that bottle, will you?" 

     She was growing dizzy, which was the opposite affect that she was aiming for when she lured him into approaching her. So she drank the next bottle hoping for the same affect caffeine would give her. Her delirious self didn't rethink her logic. "So, an honest truth? Just say what you're thinking right now. Unfiltered."

    "I'm thinking..." She gazed at the wall sternly, then looked into his eyes. "I'm thinking you must be a better kisser than you are a talker."

     Her eyes widened when she processed what she just said out loud. She turned to him reluctantly, silently hoping he wasn't mad. To her relief, he was grinning at the comment. "Well, then why don't you kiss me and find out?" 

    Faster than she anticipated, his face inched down to hers, then his lips landed down on hers. For a moment Rosie forgot entirely that weren't the only ones in the room, but that didn't stop her from kissing back.

    He inched away, planting a kiss on her jaw. "Maybe we should take this upstairs." He whispered into her ear.

   "I'm perfectly comfortable where we are now." She replied simply, then clashed her lips back to his.

    Chuck kissed her back, tugging on her sleeves to pull her forward. "There's more privacy upstairs. Come on, let's go." He pleaded in between kisses. "I have a condom in my room, we—"

    She bit his lip in disbelief. He jerked back, whimpering for a moment.  What the hell am I doing? Rosie was alarmingly reminded in a euphoric moment how much of a bad idea this is. This was unlike her to go kissing strangers as a way to begrudgingly prove to herself that she was over Jake. When she reminded herself of that, she stepped away.

"Fucking hell." He pressed his finger against his lip.

"I'm sorry, alright?" She spoke hastily, forcing an apology out of herself.

Then, he looked up at her and scoffed. "So Jake was right, you are an uptight bitch."

Rosie wished that didn't sting as much as it did. She scoffed, standing off the stool. "And you're somehow a better talker than you are a kisser." She concluded then grabbed the bottle of alcohol along with her as she left.

It struck her that she should've had a meal before the party, as the alcohol was shooting straight to her system. With a groan, she rubbed her temples as she walked away. She looked down at her hands, almost surprise to see that she took the bottle with her as she left. What am I doing?

As she turned around to put the bottle on a table, she realised Chuck was following her. At that, she  took a sharp turn around the corner to lose him, and her chest bumped against someone else's.

She groaned, looking up to see Jess in front of her. At first, she thought it was the alcohol's affects, and it must've been a hallucination, because she hasn't seen Jess attend a party willingly since his first day in town. But for a split second, she felt his hold on her arms to still her, and realised he was real, which by itself was harder to believe than him being a hallucination.

"We always seem to meet like this." He said. To the contrary, Jess did not seem the slightest bit of surprised to see her at this party.

     Rosie tried to stay still, grinding a fist down her eye. "What are you doing here?"

"What, just because I think this town is the embodiment of dull, it means I can't try to have a little fun?"

   "You're trying to have fun during your stay in Stars Hollow? What else? Are pigs flying outside?" She edged to the tip of her toes to look out the window. She inclined her head to look him in the eye.  "Well, if it wasn't the day before your make-up exam, I would've told you to have all the fun and alcohol in the world."

   His gaze dropped to the bottle in her hands, then back to her eyes. "Well, it looks like you're drinking enough for the both of us." He remarked.

"Spare me the judgement, will you?"

"Relax, but share a little, will you?" He clutched onto the bottle, pulling it away from her.

Rosie knew he had no intention of drinking it, but she didn't have the energy to argue to get it back. Instead, she softened a little. "I was going to get rid of it anyway." She said, although he didn't seem to believe her. "What? I'm a small person, you wouldn't want to see what one bottle on an empty stomach does to me."

"I can imagine."

At the corner of her eye, she saw Chuck scanning the room for her. Murmuring a profanity, she tugged on Jess' sleeve and pulled him in front of her. It took more energy than normal to pull him in front of her, as the alcohol had tired her out. She was pinned against the wall with him in front of her, sneakily glancing at the other side of the room for Chuck.

    When she looked up, noting her vision becoming more and more hazy, she saw amusement lit his eyes. "What?"

    "Deja vu." He recalled their first meeting. "Who are you hiding from this time—? Or, you know what, I don't want to know. At least you didn't kiss me this time."

    "Hey, you'd be lucky for me to kiss you." The sentence came out more slurred than she anticipated, and she had to regain herself to hide the fact that a flow of nausea was waving through her nerves at that moment. I am never drinking again. "And it's Chuck."

     He didn't bother to hide his interest, as it didn't seem she was so concentrated on his expressions— or anything for that matter, to notice anyway. "Chuck, huh?" There was an unfamiliar tone to his voice she couldn't recognise. Was he curious? Surprised?

    Rosie couldn't keep her gaze fixed on his for too long, instead she kept her eyes on her feet, focusing on her balance. "Apparently, i'm an uptight bitch for not having sex with him." She shook her head. "I led him on, so I guess–" She stopped herself, shaking her head once more. "Whatever. I'm heading back home."

    When she reached in her pocket, the car key slipped from her hands and fell to the floor. She knelt down to pick up, but never ended up getting back up. Instead, she gave into the faint, weary feeling and slumped to the floor. "Hey, you okay?" Jess knelt down.

    "I'm fine, i'm just..." She pushed herself off the floor, holding on to him for balance. "I'll tell Kayla to drive me back"

    Jess tilted his head to the side. "Actually, I think I saw her head up with Brandon a few minutes ago."

"Then i'll look for Rory." She decided. "She said she was here anyway, so.." She circled around in her place, which only made her more nauseated than she already was.

    He looked at her for one long moment, then said; "I'll drive you back." He took her car keys, and helped her walk across the room. When he turned to her, he caught her reluctant expression and talked before she could protest. "What?"

     She turned to him to look at him for a moment that struck him with a peculiar unfamiliarity. "You're being uncharacteristically kind."

    "Only because you're too drunk to remember this tomorrow."

The next few moments came hazily, and Rosie blinked her eyes open to see that they were on the street outside the house, the noise from the party now muffled. "Isn't it ironic that i've been wanting for you to like Stars Hollow so bad, but now i'm the reason you're leaving the party so early?"

    "Yes, I am a fan of irony." Jess retorted sarcastically, helping her into the passengers seat of the car. 

    She slouched onto the car seat, attempting to keep her eyes open no matter how heavy her eyelids were. She watched as he entered the car, turning on its engine. Shifting in her seat to a comfortable position, she said; "Try not to crash my car."

    "Wouldn't be the worst thing in the world, you know." He said as he started driving through the street.  "It's has red exterior and red interior, I think i'd be doing you a favour."

     Slowly giving into the dizziness, she rested her eyes and responded; "Shh!" She hushed. "Sylvia could hear you." She rested her head on the car window.

    "Sylvia?" He repeated, taking a turn around the road. "You named your car after Sylvia Plath?" He said, more in a surprised than a mocking one.

    "I named my car after a legendary writer, yes." She responded. "I am too tired to talk about this with you— can you put on the blue tape? Labelled 'calm'?"

    Jess reached over to grab the cassette tape and plugged it into the system. After a moment, the music started with a high pitched sound, the opposite of what he anticipated. "Is this Björk?" He already knew the answer; it was 5 years, a song he wouldn't have otherwise guessed would be in her calm cassette tape. "It's great music, but it's not exactly a lullaby."

"It calms my nerves, alright?" Rosie realised how absurd it sounded, but she was too drunken to care. "And good God, can you drive any slower?" She said with a groan.

"Well, Sylvia is about as slow as a slug, so I don't have much control in that area."

"Press on the gas a little harder, then."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

    "Because it's breaking down."

    "It's what?" It took Rosie a moment to realise what he was talking about. She opened her eyes, and looked around the car, dazed. There was a fluttering sound from the engine that repeated until it came in slowed, drawn out sounds. The slower the sound died down to, the slower the car drove, until they came to a complete stop.

    Jess turned to her, alarmed, but all Rosie could figure to say was; "Maybe Sylvia heard you and wanted some payback." She shrugged.

He rolled his eyes, unamused. "Or maybe this is just the outcome of all my kind gestures."

"Kind gestures?" She repeated, saving energy for just one more round of bickering. "Plural?"

He didn't respond, but put the car on park and left. She glimpsed at him from the rearview mirror, seeing him analyse the engine. She recalled seeing him fix Luke's pickup truck once, which managed to reassure her hopes that he wouldn't end up butchering her car engine. Rosie's hand rose to her hair, untying it from the ponytail.

How did I end up here? She wouldn't have guessed that she would go to a party and end up stuck on the side of the road with Jess Mariano. She realised she could call her sister, phone Luke or even Sookie, but she wouldn't resort to those desperate solutions until she figures Jess can't fix the car.

In the mean time, she was left alone with her thoughts. And as if she didn't feel sick enough, she couldn't quite shake off what Chuck had said to her earlier. Jake was right, you are an uptight bitch. When she couldn't take the heat anymore, she sluggishly stepped out of the car.

Jess glanced to the side, catching her drunkenly walk two steps forward. "Why'd you leave the car?"

"Maybe I figured i'd help you out with the engine."

"Funny." Jess laughed— a genuine laugh, for once, only to show how beyond unrealistic that would be.

    "I needed some air." She managed to let out, nausea overflowing her. She slouched down to the sidewalk, burying her face in her hands.

    Jess nodded solemnly, then shifted his attention back to the car. The more she was left alone with her thoughts, the more it consumed her whole. Then she started tearing up. Quiet sobs escaped her as her mind raced with flashbacks of all the fights her and Jake had. But most of all, she was crying because of how pathetic she felt, or how pathetic she would always feel when she was around him.

"Sylvia's up again." Jess attempted it to come out in a smooth, cool manner, but she could see how triumphed he felt.

Rosie didn't try to hide she was crying, assuming hiding it would only make her look more pathetic. "Nice necromancy work." No matter how hard she tried, there wasn't a humorous tone to her voice. It came out strangled and forced, which made him turn to her in sudden alert, realisation hitting him.

His brown eyes travelled all over her face, rising over her mouth and her cheeks until it landed on her eyes, sparkling from tears. "Are you crying?"

    "No."

    "No?"

    "It's a little known condition," She began, gaping at the floor. "The alcohol causes me to continuously cry with no control. Doctor said there's no cure." Rosie hadn't bothered to make it sound realistic.

    Jess nodded. "Little known because you made it up?"

"Well it's not really a lie, I had a bottle of alcohol— which is, what? Nine shots?" She snuffled casually. "Eighth shot me is a wildcat, but ninth shot me is a tearjerker."

Jess stood there for a moment, failing to string together a set of words. He let out a sharp exhale. "He's a jerk." His voice cracked slightly.

"Hmm?"

"Chuck, Jake." He placed his hands in his pickets, shrugging his shoulders. "Doesn't matter which, they're both jerks."

Rosie gave a small nod, half expecting him to head back to the car and wait till she regains herself. But instead, he stood towering over her. A moment passed, and when the silence was too excruciating for her to handle, Rosie peered up hesitantly to see him looking down at her, and scoffed. "Stop." She muttered.

"Stop what?"

"Stop looking at me like that." She proceeded to grind a fist against her eye, gaping at the floor wearily. "Stop looking at me at all, I hate it when people stare at me while i'm crying."

Jess cleared his throat and exhaled deeply before saying; "I can tell why." His words came out reluctantly. "Why they stare at you when you cry, I mean."

She looked up at him, dazed. "What does that mean?"

"It means..." It appeared evident that he regretted his words the moment she asked him to elaborate. Rosie was still looking at him, waiting for an answer. "you're not an ugly crier."

"Are you calling me a pretty crier?"

"That's a loose translation, but sure."

"I'm sorry, is my misery amusing to you?" At first, he looked at her, alarmed. Although she tried to restrain a smile, she couldn't help it when it cracked through the corner of her mouth. Then he bobbed his head, realising the joke.

     With a long exhale, Rosie stood from the pavement and headed in the car. Jess closed her car door, then went into the drivers seat. "Remind me again why you brought this car in the first place?"

"Sylvia," Rosie leaned in to face the car. "He's sorry, I swear, he didn't mean it."