"how's that for 'just friends'?"
Things were good. My treatments were going well. Stars Hollow was covered in snow and pixie cuts, and Christmas was right around the corner.
I love Christmas. I love winter in general. I love snow and snowball fights and hot chocolate and gift giving... all of it. Wintertime in New York is probably one of my favourite things ever.
But wintertime at Yale means the ever-dreaded midterms, because, 'here at Yale Univeristy, we don't give a crap about your holiday spirit, and intend to drain you of every last ounce of brain and willpower you have until the very last second before break!'
Yale never said that, obviously. But I like to think it's implied. I had a midterm for almost every class, and I was already super behind in all of them. I needed to uphold my scholarship, and didn't want to pull the cancer card for even more extensions from my professors. People had been treating me weirdly enough already. I didn't want to start asking for pity.
I finally built up the courage to tell Daphne about everything. We were due for a catch up, so I asked her to go to the dining hall with me for lunch. When I walked in with a bald head, even if it was under a beanie to fight the November weather, she thought it was a fashion choice at first, assuming I was suddenly inspired by Natalie Portman in her new movie.
But when I finally mustered up the courage to tell her the real reason for my baldness, without crying, might I add (pat on the back for me if I do say so myself), Daphne was shocked. Like really shocked. She was confused most of all, though.
People get really huggy with cancer for some reason. Daphne gave me a suffocating hug and then started asking a bunch of questions.
She asked things like how long it would take my hair to grow back, and how long my treatments would go for. I felt terrible that I couldn't answer a lot of them, simply because I didn't know the answers.
Once the cancer talk was done, of course, as with any conversation with Daphne, the subject of boys came up.
As usual, it was mostly just her talking about her beau of the month, who at the moment was this senior art history major, who was so 'deep' and 'thoughtful'. I asked her where he had taken her on dates so far, and she replied saying that he didn't 'believe in' spending money on dates, and thought it was more personal and intimate to sit in his car and make out.
In other words, he was using her, and poor Daph was too blinded by those rose coloured glasses to see it.
"So... I heard you've been getting pretty close with Logan Huntzberger..." I hadn't even realised that I had zoned out of her rambling until those words left her mouth.
I blinked a couple times in surprise, lifting my gaze from my plate of pasta and to her as I struggled to comprehend what she said.
"What?"
"Logan Huntzberger? Super rich... blonde... devastatingly handsome?" she led on, wiggling her brows suggestively.
Logan and I had kept our agreement to just stay friends. We had gotten coffee a couple times, and seen each other around campus, as normal friends do. He even dragged me out with Finn and Colin to some dive bar last week, which was fun.
I tried to shake off the nervous thoughts in the back of my head. Logan and I were just friends. We agreed to be friends. Nothing more.
"Oh... Yeah, we're friends..." I replied, not very convincingly.
"Just friends? Come on, Stella! I know I'm oblivious to a lot of things but if you expect me to believe that you're nothing more than friends... you're the oblivious one."
"I'm serious!" I replied with an awkward chuckle. "Logan and I are just friends. That's all."
"Fine, don't tell me," she shrugged nonchalantly, twirling her fork in her spaghetti.
"There's nothing to tell!" I guffawed. "Daph, trust me. You're my best friend. If there was anything going on between Logan and I, you'd be the first to know."
"Fine, fine, whatever," she finally caved. "You need to get out there at some point, though, Stel. When was the last time you went on a date?"
I paused to think for a moment. I'd never really had a 'real' relationship before. Hell, I didn't even have my first kiss until senior year of high school.
"The fact that it's taking you so long to remember just proves my point," the blonde in front of me stated before I could think of an answer. "You need to find someone eventually! And what could be a better opportunity than a super hot rich guy standing right in front of you?"
I rolled my eyes jokingly, trying to hide the blush that was surely making its way up my cheeks. "Just. Friends," I deadpanned with a small grin. I shrugged, taking another bite of my lunch, adding, "I'll find someone one day. But just not right now with everything going on."
Daphne rolled her eyes with a pout. "Boo. Boring."
♡♡♡
Saturday night. Most college students would be getting drunk right now, but for some stupid reason, my Linguistics professor decided that it was a perfect time for a midterm.
It was partly my fault. I had chosen the night class when I was still working at Zoomer's with the idea that I could work during the day and then go right to class.
My head was spinning, and I was exhausted, but I think I still did pretty well on the exam. I hope, at least.
Someone must've had great intuition, because right as I was walking out of the exam hall and turned my phone off silent, it began to ring.
"Hello?"
"I am so, so sorry! Stella, listen very closely... Whatever she says to you, the answer is 'no'. Just keep saying 'no'! I–"
I didn't get to hear what else Lorelai was trying to say because of the beeping in my ear, telling me someone else was calling.
"Hold on, Lorelai. I'm getting another call," I said as I struggled to keep all my binders in my arms.
"Say 'no'! No! No! N–" she shouted into the phone as I pulled it away from my ear to press the button to answer whoever else was calling.
"Hello?"
"Hello, Stella! It's Emily Gilmore. How are you, darling?"
The fact that Mrs. Gilmore was calling surprised me a little. What did she want?
"Um... I'm good, Mrs. Gilmore. How are you?"
"Oh, I'm swell. Thank you for asking. Now, I had a couple of questions for you..."
"Say 'no', Stella! Deny, deny, deny!" I could hear Lorelai shouting in the background.
My brows crinkled as I tried to figure out what on Earth was going on.
"Uh... Go on, Mrs. Gilmore," I responded.
"Wonderful! Okay, so firstly, are you free next Saturday night?"
"No, Mom! She's not!"
"Lorelai, I'm on the phone! Will you stop with that? You look like you're having some kind of spasm," Emily scolded over the phone. "Stella, I'm so sorry, I didn't hear you. Are you free next Saturday night?"
I couldn't lie to the woman! And plus, my curiosity was getting the best of me, so I replied, "Next Saturday? Yes, Mrs. Gilmore. I am."
"Perfect! And how do you feel about blue? Like a nice, navy blue... Or! A beautiful baby sky blue! Oh, I think you'd look just gorgeous in the navy, but it's up to you of course, dear," she continued, her voice drifting off in the middle as if she was daydreaming.
I chuckled a little out of pure bewilderment. "Um... blue's nice. Why are you asking, Mrs. Gilmore?"
"Oh, no reason! And you don't have any allergies, correct?"
"Uh... I can't have dairy, why?"
"Okay, no dairy. Perfect! Thank you, Stella, goodbye now!"
I've never been so confused in my life. And that's saying something, considering my life at the moment. As Emily hung up on her end, the call went back to Lorelai.
"Stella!" she dragged out like the line from 'A Streetcar Named Desire'. "You've just been Gilmored, sister! Why does no one listen to me?"
"What's going on?" I asked, fumbling with the books in my arms and wedging my cellphone between my ear and shoulder to get my keys out of my jacket pocket.
"This is on you, babe. I told you to say no. Welcome to the Gilmore cult."
And with a defeated sigh, Lorelai hung up the phone, and I was left in utter confusion.
♡♡♡
My week of hell (midterms) was finally over. It was the following Saturday and I was rudely woken the by the sound of Paris Geller bashing down my bedroom door.
"Mariano! If I have to collect your mail one more freaking time, I'm gonna wring your neck with my bare hands!"
She seems chipper this morning.
I dragged myself out of bed and to the door that she was still pounding her fist on.
"Morning, Paris," I lazily smiled at the girl.
She shoved some papers into my chest, a scowl still on her face. "Look. I get it. You've got cancer. But I have a news article to get out and midterms to study for! Collect your own mail."
And with that, she slammed my door in my face.
"Yeah, I'm good, thanks for asking. How was your night, Paris? Did you wanna get some breakfast?" I mocked to myself, rolling my eyes as I slumped back down on my bed and started opening the letters.
I was bad at opening my mail. I had a habit of just letting it pile up in my mailbox for days, sometimes weeks, until it either starts overflowing or Paris gets sick of how full it's getting and yells at me for it. It's usually just so I can avoid the myriad of bills that always seem to find their way into my mailbox.
Hospital bill.
Pharmacy bill.
Cell phone bill.
Invitation to a ball.
Wait, what?
I did a double take over the last one.
Miss Estella Elizabeth Mariano,
You have been cordially invited to be the Guest of Honour at the first annual Hartford Leukaemia Awareness Charity Ball.
Please arrive promptly on Saturday November 29th at 2pm to the Azalea Banquet and Function Hall.
Plus one guest is permitted for Guest of Honour.
Yours sincerely,
Emily Gilmore (Daughters of the American Revolution co-chair)
Well, shit.
I don't know how this rich people stuff works, but six hours is usually a little too late to back out on something like this. Especially for the so called 'guest of honour'.
Good thing I wasn't doing anything tonight, because now it looks like I'm going a ball?
What was I meant to wear to a ball? I guess I could borrow something of Rory's. Or Dahphne's. They seem like fancy dress people. Or at least the type of people to own one fancy dress.
I should probably start getting ready.
I spent the next hour and a half trying to find something of my own to wear, before ultimately deciding that I did not in fact, own anything, and calling Daphne to ask to borrow something of her's (Oh, and to plus-one her).
But thanks to all the weight I've lost from chemo, and the fact that Daphne is a good 4 inches taller than me, the two spare formal dresses she had did not fit me in the slightest. One of them was a yellow floral strapless gown, and as I'm unfortunately lacking in the chest department, fell down right away. The other was a poofy pink one, which I tripped over before I even walked out of the bathroom.
So, my last option was to just wear this dark purple mini dress she had from high school, which did fit me, but was certainly not ball material in the slightest. It had a halter neck, with one of those fabric flowers right in the middle and an asymmetrical hemline. I looked like a slutty freshman going to my high school Sadie Hawkin's dance.
The bald head didn't help the look either.
But something's better than nothing, I guess.
Daphne, however, as usual, looked like an absolute Goddess. She was wearing a baby pink satin gown, that was pretty similar to the one I wore to the Life-and-Death Brigade event earlier this year. Her perfect, shiny blonde locks were styled in a blowout, and she wore a simple silver necklace, with a small diamond that sat right between her collarbones.
We couldn't have looked more like we were going to two completely different events.
It took about an hour for us to do our makeup. Correction — it took me about an hour to do my makeup. Daph was done in like fifteen minutes, and spent the rest of the time helping me. I settled on doing very basic base makeup, so that you could still see my freckles, some sparkly eye shadow, mascara and a pink glossy lip.
The actual makeup look itself only took like ten minutes. I just had no idea what I was doing, and ended up with mascara down my cheek, blush on my eyelids or eyebrow pencil on my forehead.
But alas, we succeeded in the end, and drove Daphne's car to the venue.
We walked in, and I was expecting there to be tons of rich people, sipping champagne and talking about the hottest gossip at the club.
But instead, we were met with a bunch of servants, who seemed to be setting up for the event.
"Stella!" I was startled by the cheery voice of Emily Gilmore, who seemed to suddenly appear out of nowhere, clad in a maroon skirt and blazer set. "How is my guest of honour doing?" she asked, pulling me in and hovering kisses over my cheeks.
"Oh!" I let out, a little surprised. "Where is everyone, Miss Gilmore? Are we early?"
She was grinning like the Cheshire Cat. "No, you're right on time for the Guest of Honour!" While I don't doubt she was excited about something, her smile was obviously exaggerated, and I could tell how badly she was trying not to stare at my hairless head. She forced her eyes over to Daphne. "And who might this be?"
"Daphne Hansen, ma'am," she smiled warmly, extending her hand. "I'm Stella's friend from work."
Emily shook it graciously. "Lovely to meet you dear. My, I must say you are very pretty!"
"Thank you, ma'am."
"Please, dear. Any friend of Stella's is a friend of mine. Call me Emily."
I wouldn't call Mrs. Gilmore my friend in any sense. She seems like a very nice lady, but I'd only ever met her a handful of times. And this whole 'Guest of Honour' thing and the whole event was feeling a little weird.
"Well, it's quite rude to stand in the foyer. What do we say we go upstairs and get you ready?" Emily turned back to me and clasped her hands together.
I looked down at my dress. "But I'm already ready?"
She let out a boisterous laugh. "Oh, darling! How wonderful to see you still have your spirit. Come, come."
And she grabbed my hand and whisked me upstairs.
♡♡♡
I swear I just blinked, and suddenly, four hours had passed and I had a brand new dress on, a full face of makeup and a super sparkly necklace around my neck.
The dress was a gorgeous navy blue ballgown, with a jewelled belt-like detailing around my waist. It was so soft, it felt like I was wearing a cloud, and the colour somehow complimented my skin perfectly.
Emily had been in and out of the room every couple minutes, leaving me alone with a team of stylists and makeup artists and some lady named Miss Celine who kept comparing me to random celebrities — most of whom were ones who had shaved their heads.
Daphne was in the room, but was a little bored, so she was just reading a book she found in the bookcase in the corner.
"You look just wonderful! Much, much better than that little thrift-store dress you were wearing before," Mrs. Gilmore commented cheerfully as she walked into the room. "Now," she paused, holding up a finger. "I have a gift for you."
"What?" I blurted out.
I wasn't quite sure how I felt about this 'Guest of Honour' thing. I'm all for charity, of course. And I was flattered, and grateful, but it felt like my cancer was just being shoved in my face.
"Just a little personal touch from me to thank you for being here tonight. And just a reminder of how strong you are, and the good things to come," she grinned, walking toward a cabinet in the room as she spoke, pulling out a large, square gift box with a white satin bow. She placed it on the vanity in front of me, and stepped aside with a big smile on her face.
I hated when people said things like that. "You're so strong!" "Keep fighting!" Like, first of all; ew. And also, it makes me feel really alienated.
"Um... thank you, Mrs. Gilmore," I said awkwardly, not wanting to be rude after she invited me here tonight and had people get me ready and all.
"Open it!" she grinned excitedly, standing behind my chair and looking at me in the vanity mirror.
I carefully untied the bow, not wanting to rip it, and pulled the lid off the box. The sides of the box fell down, displaying a mannequin head with a beautiful mousey brown wig, which looked frighteningly similar to what my natural hair looks like.
"It's real human hair!" Emily explained excitedly. She turned to the stylists who were cleaning up their things "Girls, help her get it on, will you?"
And within minutes, the wig was on my head, styled in simple curls. It was longer than how I used to wear my hair, sitting right at my collarbones, and it felt really weird. Soft to the touch, but it felt heavy on my head. It looked real, but you could still tell it was a wig.
"Beautiful! Just beautiful! How do you like it?"
I swallowed, feeling a little awkward. I had just started to get used to my bald head, and now it felt like it was something to be ashamed of. But at the same time, I felt a little like me again. The emotions were just all jumbled up and mixed together like a really bad salad. But still, refusing to sound rude, I simply replied, "It's lovely, Mrs. Gilmore. Thank you."
And with that, she dragged Daphne and I out the door, and to the top of the grand-looking stairwell.
"...and as we are all truly inspired by her strength, and hold her hand during this tragic battle, I would like you all to join me in welcoming her — tonight's Guest of Honour; Estella Elizabeth Mariano."
I felt like a deer in the headlights.
I don't know what I expected when I came here, but it wasn't this. I wasn't expecting a ballroom full of rich socialites staring at me and applauding and crying. I wasn't expecting to feel like a total imposter, in a dress I certainly couldn't afford, in a wig that cost more than my car, with all the attention in the room on me and me alone.
Emily, from behind me, nudged me forward slightly, and I wobbled from the heels on my feet. Luckily, I was able to stable myself, because the only way I could feel more mortified right now is if I fell down these stairs.
"Smile, dear," she said softly.
And I did. I was so uncomfortable, but this is what I was good at; pretending to fit in somewhere I certainly didn't. I did it every day at my fancy college, every time I visited Stars Hollow, and every time I had to look at people who pity me because of this godforsaken disease.
I smiled the best I could as I descended the stairs, willing and pleading to any and every God there was to not let me fall, Daphne and Emily close behind me, but not too close as to not 'ruin my moment'.
And then I saw him. Those gorgeous brown eyes I would recognise anywhere, squinting ever so slightly as he smiled, encouraging me with no words needed to be said.
I made it to the bottom of the stairs, thank goodness, and was almost immediately bombarded with cocktail hour, where I had about fifty people, one after another, come up to me and introduce themselves and say the same cliches of how strong I am and how they'll keep me in their prayers, and then immediately start talking about themselves and how successful they are.
A few of them were Yale alumni, who were at least semi-interesting. A bunch of them were Emily's DAR friends, who wanted to talk about nothing but gossip.
Lorelai and Rory were there, and for some reason, Luke. I hadn't had a chance to talk to them yet, though.
A bunch of the old men that were talking to me kept handing me envelopes, refusing to listen when I tried to refuse. And every couple minutes, Emily would rush up to me, take the envelopes away and send a servant to put them upstairs for me.
Like I said, I'm all for charity. But I refuse to be a charity case. Every single cent in those envelopes is going straight to an actual charity.
I felt too nauseous to eat any of the fancy food being passed around, and couldn't drink because I'm not old enough, obviously. I was too tired and sore to dance, and had no interest in talking to any more of these people, so I was just standing by the bar, waiting for Lorelai and Luke to finish their conversation with some old guy so that I could talk to some actually interesting people.
As my eyes wandered around the room, they found their way back to him. And I couldn't stop myself from staring.
But I wasn't staring at him. I was staring at the girl he was dancing with. She could've been mistaken for a model. Hell, she probably was one. She had dark blonde, almost brown hair, and was wearing a turquoise dress that made her look like a princess.
They were laughing and talking as they swayed to the music, and my stomach turned when she leaned in a little closer to whisper something in his ear that made him smile.
Why was I feeling like this?
You rejected him, Stella. He has every right to be here with someone else.
But it still didn't feel good.
"Hey, hon! You drunk yet?" a voice broke me out of my thoughts, and I turned to see Lorelai and Luke beside me.
I mustered up a small chuckle, trying my best to smile like nothing was wrong. "Hey! No, no, of course not."
"What're you waiting for, sister? The only way you're going to survive tonight is with lots and lots of champagne."
I was a little amused. I looked to Luke, smiling. "I see she's taking her own advice?"
"She's on a first name basis with the bartender," he replied, nodding. "Don't follow in her footsteps though. Can you even drink with the..."
I let myself smile at his protectiveness. "I can, but I just don't feel like it."
"Oh no. Totsie... Luke, you have to hide me!" Lorelai exclaimed, dragging Luke away.
Well, I doubt I'll see them again tonight.
I couldn't help but let my eyes drift back over to Logan and his date. They were sitting down at a table now, eating some fancy food and still chatting away, laughing.
And then the eye contact was made. He saw me and smiled as he took a sip of his champagne, and at the same time, his date pecked him on the cheek, dragging her hand along his shoulder as she stood up and walked off.
I felt sick.
But not chemo sick. It was like someone was stabbing me in the heart and squeezing my stomach until it broke.
You can't be jealous.
But I was. But I couldn't be. I needed to recollect myself, so I stepped outside, hoping some fresh air would help.
Nothing was right.
And as if it couldn't get any more wrong, that blonde hair that was growing back from it's buzz cut very nicely, turned the corner.
"Yeah, these rich people functions can get a bit much sometimes. I've been doing it for years and I still get overwhelmed," he said casually, strolling up to me with his hands in his pockets.
I rested my back against the wall, not wanting to look at him in hopes that whoever my jealous alter-ego is would come out and do something I'll regret.
"Shouldn't you be getting back to your date?" I said, not meaning for it to sound bitter, but the words coming out like that anyway.
"Marianne? Oh, please. We've known each other since we were in diapers. She's like a sister to me," he chuckled a little. I didn't, though. That didn't look like sisterly love to me on the dance floor. Logan noticed how I didn't budge, how my gaze stayed trained on the concrete beneath us. "Stella, look at me."
I looked up at him.
"She's my friend. Nothing else."
I breathed. "It doesn't matter. You don't owe me an explanation. It's none of my business."
"Stella. She's a family friend. I promise you."
"It really doesn't bother me, Logan."
"Then tell me what's bothering you."
"Nothing's—"
"Stella." I looked back up at him, and his perfect lips were pursed they way they are any time I've ever tried to lie to him. "What good of a friend am I if I can't listen to you and help you?"
I started to choke up for some stupid reason. I was just so overwhelmed and seeing him be all sweet and perfect was just the icing on the cake. "I... It's just... It's all wrong. This dress is all wrong and this wig is itchy and I don't even know any of these people and I'm meant to smile and listen to them all act like I'm going to die and they're gonna miss me and I— and these heels hurt my feet and — and seeing you with her and— God, this wig is so annoying!"
"Hey. Hey, hey, hey," he said softly, grabbing my wrists gently from where they were clawing at my wig. Sobs started to wrack my body and my beautiful dress suddenly felt like it was suffocating me and all I could do was cry as Logan wrapped his arms around me as I sobbed into his chest. I felt one of his hands gently make its way up my neck and pull the fake hair from my head. I pulled away slightly, my arms still around him as I looked up at him through my soaked lashes. "I can at least help with one of your problems."
I couldn't help but smile.
"As beautiful as you look with the wig on, I think you suit better without. It looks more... you," he grinned. "But please, never take that dress off because you look absolutely stunning in it."
Stunning.
My body was acting faster than my brain could keep up and before I knew it, my hands were on his jaw and my lips were on his, pressing against them softly. His hands found my waist as he pulled me in impossibly close, flush against his body.
I couldn't get enough. My mouth opened, letting him slip his tongue in.
He tasted like champagne, and for once, it didn't make me feel sick.
His hands wandered between my waist and my hips as his mouth moved along my jaw and down my neck before moving back up to my lips, capturing them all over again.
"Stella? Stella are you out here?" A voice cut through the air, paired with clacking of heels that belonged to Emily Gilmore.
As much as it pained me to do so, I pulled away from Logan, out of breath, and adjusted my dress.
He couldn't wipe the smile off his face.
"How's that for 'just friends?'"
I fought back a smile and turned the corner, where Emily was looking around in search for me.
"There you are! It's time for your speech!"
I have to give a speech now?
hi my darlings! another extra extra long chapter to apologise for how often i don't update this book. it's genuinely one of my favourites to write, i just unfortunately lack the time to be able to. anywho, let me know your thoughts on the chapter! love you x