𝓒𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓲𝓽 𝔀𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚☕︎

The air smelled like pine and sawdust, warmed by the late afternoon sun as Jess stepped up onto the Carson porch.

A few loose boards creaked beneath his boots, one of them dipping awkwardly under his weight.

"You're right on time," Sienna called as she opened the door, squinting toward him with a raised brow. "Color me impressed."

He gave her a small smirk. "Well, Luke practically shoved me out the door. Said you had a porch problem."

She stepped outside, closing the screen door behind her. "You could say that. Come take a look."

Jess followed her toward the side of the porch where the wood was bowing slightly.

She knelt with him and tapped the edge with the toe of her sandal.

"I think it's sinking right there. Probably the post underneath—water damage or something. And don't tell me I need to replace the whole thing, because I already cried once this month when the dryer died."

Jess crouched down, peering into the shadowy space beneath. "No, you're probably good. I'll just have to reinforce the base. Might need to crawl under, check the post, and bring back a jack."

Sienna made a face. "That's spider territory. Better you than me."

He chuckled quietly and stood up, brushing his hands on his jeans. She leaned against one of the porch columns, folding her arms loosely.

"So," she said, "Brooke told me you're from New York."

Jess looked up, slightly surprised, but nodded. "Yeah. Born and raised in the city. Upper West Side."

"What was Christmas like there?" Sienna asked, tone curious but light. "My dad used to take me to New York a lot when I was younger. Before he divorced my mom and moved there full-time. We'd go in December, see the tree, skate at Rockefeller. It always felt like a movie."

Jess's expression softened, and something in his shoulders eased. "It was cold. Crowded. But yeah, kind of magical when you're a kid. I used to sneak out late sometimes, just to walk past the shops on Fifth when the windows were all lit up. They'd have these big displays, moving figurines, fake snow. Whole thing."

Sienna smiled. "Sounds like the kind of thing Brooke would love. She's never been."

"She's never been to New York?" Jess asked, genuinely surprised.

"Nope. Not even once. We've always stayed local—her dad's from Stars Hollow too. Born, raised, and he's around but he lives like an hour away . And I guess I never found a reason to drag her to a city that never really felt like home for me." Sienna gave a small shrug. "But she's always asking about it."

He nodded, thoughtful now. "She ever want to move there?"

Sienna looked toward the front yard. "Maybe in the way kids do. You know—imagine themselves on rooftops, in bookstores, drinking overpriced coffee. But... she's got roots here. Friends. Her room. Her window."

Jess followed her gaze toward the front window, picturing Brooke curled on her bed, legs crossed, writing in a notebook or blasting music.

"She's good," Sienna added, her voice softer. "Kind, smart, way funnier than she gets credit for. I worry sometimes that she forgets how great she is. But she's also seventeen. That's part of the deal, right?"

He didn't answer right away. He just nodded once, like he understood something he didn't even realize he'd been learning.

Just then, the familiar sound of music thumping from a passing car made them both turn their heads. A black SUV slowed at the curb.

"Bye, Rae! Bye, Lena!" she called, flashing a heart at the two girls in the car.

"Text us later!" Rae leaned out the window, blowing a dramatic kiss.

Lena waved with a grin as the SUV pulled away.

Brooke turned toward the porch—and paused when she saw Jess.

"Oh," she said, blinking. "Hi."

Jess gave a small smirk. "Hey."

Sienna glanced between them with something unreadable in her expression.

Then she patted Jess's shoulder lightly, already stepping back toward the door. "I'll leave you two. Porch bonding or whatever."

She turned to Brooke, brushing a kiss across her temple. "Be nice. And i hope you didn't give him lemonade if it's expired."

Brooke rolled her eyes. "It wasn't expired. It's just... aggressively tart."

Sienna gave a soft laugh and disappeared into the house.

Jess raised an eyebrow. "Aggressively tart?"

"Yeah," Brooke said, heading toward the door. "You'll live. Come on."

She motioned for him to follow and stepped inside, letting the screen door creak closed behind them.

The house smelled like lemon cleaner and something faintly floral.

Jess trailed her past the living room, up the stairs, and down the hallway toward a door with a faded sticker on it that read:

BROOKE'S ROOM. NO ENTRY UNLESS YOU'RE A DOG OR FUNNY.

He raised a brow. "That's a pretty high bar."

"In my defense," Brooke said as she stepped inside, "my dad got me that sticker when I was six. He thought it was hilarious. I took it very seriously."

Jess smirked as he crossed the threshold. "So I qualify because...?"

"You're slightly amusing," she teased, glancing over her shoulder at him. "Still debating."

Her room was cozy, colorful, lived-in in the best way.

String lights looped lazily across the ceiling, giving everything a soft golden tint.

One wall was practically wallpapered with concert posters and torn-out vouge and magazine pages.

A big tapestry with phases of the moon hung behind her bed, and her windowsill was cluttered with candles—some burned low, others brand new.

Her desk was chaos: notebooks stacked, glitter pens in a mason jar, a sketch of a girl on a bike half-finished in the margins of an open journal.

Jess stepped in slowly, glancing around. "You live in a very curated idea board."

Brooke rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. "It's called personality, Mariano."

"No, I like it," he said, more seriously than she expected. "It's like... your brain exploded and turned into a room."

"That is the most backhanded compliment I've ever gotten," she said, flopping onto the bed.

"Yeah, well, I meant it nicely," he replied, wandering to the corkboard above her desk. He leaned in, scanning it. Polaroids. Doodles. A crumpled movie ticket. A dried daisy, taped at the top.

He glanced over his shoulder. "You save everything, huh?"

Brooke shrugged. "Yeah. I don't know. It makes me feel like I'm keeping time. Like if I forget it, it never happened."

Jess nodded like he understood—because he did.

She watched him for a second, how he was taking in all the small pieces of her life without saying anything snarky. His hands were in his pockets. He didn't seem uncomfortable. He just... looked.

"You're not what I expected," she said suddenly.

He turned back to her, amused. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. I thought you were gonna be way more of a jerk."

Jess snorted. "Give it time."

"I'm serious," she said, sitting up. "You have this whole grumpy, loner thing going on, and then you show up and fix porches and drink bad lemonade and talk to my mom like a human."

Jess shrugged. "Well, maybe I'm not all grump."

She narrowed her eyes playfully. "But you're definitely a loner."

"I like being alone," he said. "But I don't mind this."

"This?"

He gestured vaguely. "Talking to you. Your room. This whole... Stars Hollow charm offensive."

Brooke smiled, feeling her heart bump up against her ribs a little.

"Do you always flirt this awkwardly?" she asked.

He leaned back against her desk. "Only when it's working."

She laughed, covering her face for a second before peeking through her fingers. "God. You're so annoying."

"You're the one blushing."

"I am not."

"Your ears are red."

Brooke picked up a pillow and tossed it at him. He caught it easily, grinning.

"Okay," she said, "since we're in full honesty mode—how bad is the lemonade?"

Jess squinted like he was bracing for impact. "Tastes like a lemon got angry and filed a complaint with my taste buds."

Brooke burst out laughing. "That bad?"

"Brooke," he said, very seriously, "I think my tongue is reconsidering its career."

She was still laughing when their eyes caught again—her smile softening into something quieter. Jess looked at her for a long beat, then slowly glanced around the room once more, then back to her.

"I like it here," he said simply.

"In my room?"

"In your world."

Brooke blinked. Her throat felt tight, in that stupid, fluttery way.

"You always say things like that?" she asked, voice quieter now.

"Only when I mean them."

There was a stillness, something fragile and warm hanging between them.

Then, without really thinking, she said, "You want to sit down or just admire my candle hoarding from afar?"

Jess smirked and stepped closer, finally sitting on the edge of the bed beside her. Their knees barely touched.

"This where you do all your deep thinking?" he asked, nodding toward her bed.

"Mostly where I procrastinate and spiral dramatically," she replied. "But yeah. Occasionally there's a thought or two."

"Looks comfy," he said, running his palm across the comforter.

"Try it. I bet it's softer than your sad, bachelor bed."

Jess tilted his head. "Wow. That sounded suspiciously like an invitation."

"Relax," she said, grinning. "It's not an invitation."

He raised a brow. "Good. I'm not sure Luke prepped me for the birds and bees Stars Hollow-style."

Brooke snorted. "Oh my God—stop."

"Just saying," he said with mock innocence. "If this turns into some golden girls version of a cautionary tale—"

She shoved his shoulder gently. "You're impossible."

And he didn't say anything back.

He just smiled a little, because she looked so alive when she was teasing him, cheeks flushed and eyes bright.

The moment stretched.

It didn't need fixing.

It was already perfect.