A/N: crap on a stick. i know i shouldnt start this until id finished that summer but i couldnt help it. i was inspired and it seems that its rare these days for me, so im sorry for putting out another story before finishing that one. (sigh) okay. this is a new rogan, and it takes place in their college years. i havent fully figured out when, i'm thinking both of their senior years - theyre the same age. i know this one is short, but its just sort of the intro/meeting chapter. so tell me what you think and if i should continue. enjoy and review.


His eyes shot open and he cursed. The sun shining through the window, the beside clock that said eight o'clock. Yep, it was official. It was morning.

How did he let this happen? He never, ever slept over at a girl's house. Never. It was the cardinal rule of Logan Huntzberger.

Maybe he was too drunk? Come to think of it, he couldn't remember anything about the night before. And now, here he was, twelve hours after leaving his apartment, in the jersey sheets of a girl he didn't know.

He slipped out of the bed successfully without waking up the unknown body beside him; she had rolled over in the course of the night, detaching herself from him and making it much easier for him to leave. She must be use to these, which is perfect for him.

He picked up his jeans and t-shirt off the floor and put on his shoes before moving to the window, hoping to make an escape. He frowned at what he saw outside. They were a good ten stories up and there was no ladder or any means of getting down. Just when he thought he was home-free.

He walked to the door slowly, quietly, and opened it even slower, even quieter. He walked through a modestly furnished apartment, apparently a girl's, and past the kitchen. He stepped inside the small kitchenette, hoping for some coffee, it was the least this girl could do for him.

Judging by his clothes, he probably went to dinner at some informal, but still sophisticated restaurant, and most likely a club afterwards, with him paying for everything. A cup of coffee should be the least of her worries.

On the counter, he noticed a pot of already made coffee, and he opened a cupboard to find a mug.

"The other one," a female voice from behind him said, a cup already raised to her lips, which were smirking.

Rory Gilmore was sitting at her kitchen table, in only a white tank-top and an old pair of boxers with an owl pattern, her legs propped up on the chair beside her when some guy came in, looking for a mug to pour coffee.

"Right," he said, moving to the other end of the cabinets, pulling out a plain blue mug. "I'm just a friend of…" he struggled for a name.

"Casey," she offered.

"Right, Casey."

She smiled, "You don't have to explain yourself to me. She's probably more hung over than you, will remember less than you, and won't be up until long after you leave. You're not the first one to go through here early in the morning."

He was shocked to say the least at her blunt demeanor. Needless to say, Rory loved her roommate to death, Casey being the more outgoing, adventurous party girl, while Rory was the studious one, trying to please her grandparents who pay for her college education at Yale.

"So you mean…"

"She won't remember any more than you do," she said, shrugging her shoulders.

"Okay, do you mind if I just finish this?" He asked, pointing to the mug he held in his hand.

"Oh, no. By all means," she said, waving her hand at him.

He pulled a hand through his hair, making the blonde locks stand on all edges. She simply watched his nervous actions with a smile on her face.

His brown eyes locked on her vibrant blue eyes. "What?" he asked.

"Nothing. Just trying to remember how many of you I've seen come through here on Saturday mornings."

"Well, thanks. That's making me feel better."

She laughed, causing the messy ponytail her brown with subtle red highlighted hair was in to bounce. "I'm not trying to make you feel better."

"What did you guys do last night?" she asked as he sat down in a chair across from her.

He gave her a pointed stare to which she laughed again. "Right, hangover, don't remember."

"Thank you."

"Well," she said, standing up, "I have to get going. It's been uh, nice seeing you…"

"Logan," he told her.

"Right, Logan."

She rinsed her cup in the sink and set it in the dish rack next to the sink.

"Wait," he called when she was out of the kitchen. She poked her head back in. "I didn't get your name."

She smirked, something that unnerved him even though he had only just met her. "You're going to have find out on your own."


"You heard me!" she called as she went into her room, the door slamming behind her.

He sighed, and followed her actions of rinsing out the mug and set it next to hers. He quickly walked out of the two girls' apartment and to the elevators.

When he was outside, he looked up to see the girl he had talked to sitting on the ledge of her window, reading a book before she was due to be at work.