Going back to some semblance of "normal" didn't really seem like an option for Rory. Since her encounter with Maris in the coffee shop, she felt like there was always something at the back of her mind, always a nagging thought, always a certain pang that she wouldn't dare give name to. Maris' number was in her phone now. The amount of times she'd brushed her thumb back and forth on her phone, almost willing her touch to linger just long enough to call, to bring up a message screen -- but what would she say? There was a bit of chatter, back and forth, innocuous and always brief. Anytime a tall brunette walked by, she could feel her heart jolt. It was an unfair after effect of the handful of minutes they'd spent in a coffee shop. Rory's mind filled with questions, some she wanted answers to, others she knew that she didn't.

What was worse had to be that her distraction was felt by others. A couple of times, she'd been caught by one of her students, missing the timing of a quiz when her alarm went off or the bell rang. She couldn't remember where her mind had been just moments before, but it was better that way. Someone should not have such an affect. It was unfair, even if it was her. The bigger "worse" of the situation was when she'd be distracted during times she really shouldn't be. Over dinner, her fiancée would chuckle with an "earth to Rory" line and Rory would just smile and state how tired she was. Midway through the semester would do that to her - she said. Jess was exceptionally patient, kind, a bit more of an extrovert than Rory would ever be, but if she suspected something more was off, she didn't say it.

It was her idea to come to the damn fair.

As they walked hand in hand, Rory found herself ill at ease, looking around, over her shoulder. Why should she feel on edge, or even remotely guilty like this wasn't what she should be doing? It was just weird, when she had recently had images in her head of someone else she was walking through the fairgrounds with. She'd even had a dream she wouldn't tell a soul about. Babeeeeee, I'm going to go talk with Kelly and Chris over there, win me a prize? Rory had barely enough time to nod before Jess was racing off to join a gaggle of her friends. Rory felt some relief, savoring the solitude -- amidst the flashing lights and loud din around them.

Sidling up to one of those stupidly rigged softball toss games, she paid her dollar and chucked a ball at bottles, knocking just the first one off. Two more balls - missing them again. "Damn." She sighed, glancing around before putting down another dollar.

Maris had been doing a pretty good job of forgetting about Rory. The stress of writing and settling into her new space had made it next to impossible to think of anything else. She'd even managed to make a few friends since she'd arrived, begrudgingly accepting one of their invitations to tag along to the fair, figuring there really was no avoiding it if two people had mentioned it since her arrival.

Sam, a balding paralegal was closer to her father's age than hers and duller than Maris would have liked, but he was a history buff and she wasn't about to be choosy in a town where the only other person she knew was her most complicated ex thus far.

But Sam had cancelled at the last minute, citing seasonal allergies that had warped into a migraine. Maris had her own sensitive sinuses to worry about, but ultimately decided to take the medicine she usually skipped because it made her drowsy and go.

It was unseasonably warm, so even Maris had ditched her usual slacks. She was wearing a black shirt dress and sandals she was still trying to break in. There was a paper bag full of handmade soaps in her hand, the smell of lemon, lavender and mint all mingling together because she'd gone a bit overboard at the stall. Her nose was a bit itchy after trying every sent the vendor had to offer, so after a sneeze she found herself patting her pockets to try and find the tissues she'd stashed there once she left the house. After she'd gotten herself sorted, she headed off in search of a trash can. Once she'd found it and thrown her Kleenex away, she found herself staring at Rory.

She bit her lip as she weighed the pros and cons of heading over, but it seemed almost weird not to say hello to someone you knew, no matter what the circumstances. And there was no denying the other woman looked adorable when focused on something. Rory's concentration had caused Maris to pin her down while she was in the middle of grading papers on more than one occasion.

"I thought lesbians were supposed to be good at softball," she teased, raising her voice a bit to be heard over the crowd.

For a spring night, Rory was accustomed to the random bouts of heat spells that could come living so close to the coast. It seemed as though spring and summer would burst through for a day or two, then fog would take over and roll over everything. She liked the shift of weather, the unpredictability of it. How annoying that she actually found something like weather even remotely interesting. It was hard these days however, to find Rory outside of a pair of comfortable jeans, lest the weather be the hot and sticky sort -- and they were a few months out from that. Paired with converse and a red tank top, she'd boldly left her jacket behind, insisting she wouldn't need it.

That familiar voice struck her all too hard, startling her so that Rory was just glad that she didn't still have a ball in her hand at the moment. Turning to look over her shoulder, she smiled - though her eyes narrowed playfully as she gave Maris a shrug. "I'm just getting warmed up, how dare you." She smirked, grabbing one of the balls and tossing it in the air before catching it in that same hand.

This was the point where she should have made any number of other choices, particularly ones that put space between the two of them. But Maris looked unfairly good, and there was no harm in friendly banter, right? If they were (apparently) going to be running into each other, she needed to get better at the friendly part, and better at just talking with her.

"Think you can do better?" She asked with her own raised voice, a cocked eyebrow and nod towards the stack of bottles. This time, she handed over a couple of dollars to pay for two games. She'd probably win something by the time she hit $10, right? That, and chucking balls at milk bottles would get rid of the nervous energy that had suddenly risen in her.

Maris was definitely not outdoorsy. Though graceful, she'd never really been athletic and she strongly preferred to stay indoors with a good book unless the weather was as great as that afternoon's. But she had been raised by two men who, at least in the beginning, hadn't known quite what to do with her when summer vacation rolled around. She'd played softball for a couple of years and been alright at it, if only because she couldn't stand to lose and practiced until she was halfway decent.

She smirked at Rory's challenge, knowing that her ex probably remembered just how competitive she could be. "May I? Hold these, please." Maris handed over her bag and put down her money before narrowing her eyes at the target. After a moment of taking the slight breeze into consideration, she threw the ball and knocked down every bottle.

"Normally I hate to feed into stereotypes, but in this case..." she trailed off with a grin before nodding toward the prizes. "Well? Pick something. I'm not going to do anything with a stuffed bear."

Rory could still very vividly remember a time when a couple friends of theirs invited them on a camping trip for a weekend. They didn't even have to glance at each other before in unison they expressed their immediate decline. If Rory was going to camp someplace, it was going to have a bed, indoor plumbing, and electricity. She loved to explore other places, new cities and climates, but always with the idea that she could retreat to a room at the end of the day. Sports were ... similarly an off and on love affair - with volleyball being the one love that stuck through high school. She had simply never been the sort to join up with any extra-curricular or lesbian leagues. Fun came in other shapes.

Taking the bag from Maris, Rory couldn't help the easy grin that graced her features. The pleasant scents swirled around her, but her focus remained on the other woman. "Mmhm." She chuckled, dangling the bag from her fingers as she watched. Her gaze may have lingered a second or two longer than it should have before she glanced to the bottles, watching them topple down.

"Well shit, that's just ... have you been practicing?" She laughed, shaking her head as she pointed to a floppy pink bear that was handed over. Honestly, she wouldn't do a damn thing with it either, but she'd already forgotten she was supposed to be winning a prize for someone else. "Well thank you, I will treasure it in my utter humiliating defeat." Handing the bag back over, she glanced around the carnival then back to Maris. "So what do you think of the fair?"

"Not for a very long time," Maris admitted. Her surprise that she'd actually been able to pull it off was evident in her voice. As she watched Rory pick out her prize, she realized there were more perks to winning than keeping her ego in tact. She liked the idea of impressing Rory and that she'd actually given her ex something to remember her and this moment by.

It was probably silly when you considered just how close they'd been. She'd wooed and won her over years before, but the slate had been wiped clean, hadn't it? And even if she wasn't actively trying to now, it felt good to make Rory smile. Maris had sort of forgotten she could, Her last memories of her were her freshest and there hadn't exactly been a lot of happy moments toward the bitter end.

"It's fair-like," she said with a bit of a laugh. Maris wasn't thrilled with the crowds and there wasn't much here that she hadn't seen at a fair before, but it wasn't so bad. She'd stocked up on fancy soap, a luxury she still indulged in even though she didn't really have anyone to smell nice for because a good, long soak was a weekly ritual that could happen more often when she was feeling stressed. She'd drunk an overpriced limeade, the sugar and acid still had her teeth aching in protest, but it had been the perfect mix of sweet and tart, so she hardly cared.

"I'm just glad to get out of the house," she said, the real reason why she was so glad to be there out in the open. "You can only stare at your laptop screen for so long before the walls start to close in."

It was more than she cared to admit. Maris wanted Rory to think her life was busy, exciting, better than it was before she had left. Writing was work, of course, Hard work and she was sure she knew that. But it was also solitary, and Maris didn't feel quite right about helping Rory conjure up images of her cooped up in the house all day with only her cat for company. It wasn't attractive. It was vaguely pathetic. Especially when feeling lonely and isolated was kind of the reason why Maris had ended things with her in the first place.

"Are you gonna name that?" she nodded toward the bear, trying to change the subject. "God, it's awful," she said with a bit of a laugh. "What child wants something the color of Pepto Bismol?"

"Could have fooled me." She shrugged, her tone light and friendly. It probably should have alarmed her how good it felt just to tease and joke around with Maris. She couldn't even remember the last time they had been even like this, because the last time, she was sure, she didn't realize it would be. Of course, not to read too much into just running into one another at a fair. After all, the last time they'd actually been together had left her raw and angry for far longer than she was comfortable with. Rory wasn't looking to turn their dynamic into anything in particular ... but it just felt nice not to over-think it.

She should have just said a nice hello to Maris and then been on her way. Somehow standing there with her, talking over soaps and cheap toys didn't register to Rory as something that she shouldn't be doing. Her body language probably told a very different story. It felt like her brain had come alive having Maris in her orbit again.

"Oh great descriptor. Sticky and loud. Fair-like." She smirked, folding her arms over her chest with the little pink bear against her chest. Everything smelled of sugar (more accurately, cotton candy) which was a far nicer smell than any alternative. As though to make her point, a group of children ran by screaming and laughing, playing some form of tag, she assumed. She suddenly felt very exposed there, aware of her space and the space she shared with Maris.

It was a curious thought, to ponder what Maris' day to day looked like. There was a problem in that it brought to mind old days where they'd work side by side together, maybe one at the kitchen table, another draped across the couch, fixed on their work but with one anothers' company. She used to promise herself the reward of distracting Maris once she got three more papers graded. It was all about the reward.

"Should probably be something predictable like Pinky or Rose..." She laughed a little, looking down at the bear in her hand. "Probably no--" Lost in conversation with Maris, she hadn't even noticed someone approaching them, even if she wasn't entirely trying to be discreet about it. Babe! You did it?? Her heart jolted so hard in her chest, she nearly dropped the bear to the sawdust and hay that covered the fairgrounds. Her eyes went wide, a split second where all of her synapses just refused to fire. Jess was next to her in the next moment, plucking the bear from her hand and looping her arm around Rory's waist. Hi! Are you going to introduce us? Ever chipper, Jess didn't seem phased in the slightest that Rory had been talking so casually with Maris. For her part, Rory stuttered, needing a moment for her brain to catch up. "Yeah um, yes. Yes. Jess, this is Maris, Maris, Jess." She didn't further explain her connection to either, not while her eyes went searching for what kind of chaos this might cause, if only in her own mind.

Maris, blinked, caught off guard when the other woman arrived. For a brief moment ignorance really was bliss because she thought Jess was Rory's friend, someone she had either gone to the fair with or run into along the way. But then came the half hug. The word babe, an endearment Rory didn't really use for friends.

She used to use it for her.

Rory had a girlfriend.

It wasn't shocking. Women as wonderful (and gorgeous) as Rory didn't stay off the market for long, but she had never seen her ex with someone else before. They sometimes talked about old flames or even admitted when they both found a movie star or stranger on the street attractive but she had no real clue what the other women in Rory's life were like.

Was Jess her type? Was Maris?

Was she happier with her than she had been when they were together? Maris' ego liked to think not, a not so quiet voice in the back of her brain smugly reminding her just how good she had been at making Rory come.

Maris may have been somewhat of an emotional cripple, but she'd never had anyone complain about her in the bedroom.

She stood up a bit straighter, holding out her hand for the other woman to shake, insanely grateful she'd had to foresight to paint her nails a deep red yesterday morning.

"Nice to meet you," she said through a smile usually reserved for parent teacher conferences and surprise observations by the principal. She thought she'd left it long behind. "Rory and I worked at the same school a few years ago."

She inwardly winced, suddenly wondering if she'd said the wrong thing. Her first name was uncommon and if Rory had mentioned her as an ex Jess would probably put two and two together pretty quickly.

But why did she care? Why did it matter if she figured it out? Rory would have to deal with the awkwardness after the three of them parted ways, something Maris was hoping would happen sooner rather than later.

There was a beat of silence before Maris plastered on her smile once again. "So," she said through slightly clenched teeth. "You're together?"

For too long of a moment, it felt like ice in her veins; that panic that stunted everything. Rory didn't want Maris to find out this way that she was with someone else, but then again -- how was she supposed to tell her otherwise? There was no version that wasn't presumptuous. There was no question she could ask Maris about her own status as lead-in for her own relationship reveal. Her eyes remained fixed on Maris' face, even if she desperately wanted to look away. Why was it that she felt so guilty? She didn't owe Maris anything, nor did Maris owe her anything in return ... but it still felt like shit, having her find out this way, having her face Jess like this.

As far as women went, Jess and Maris couldn't have been more opposite. It was comparing apples and oranges, and Rory was just a fan of fruit. Truthfully she hadn't thought Jess was her type to begin with. She was a little too bubbly, too outgoing for a more introverted quiet type that Rory could be -- just a little much. But the woman had been determined, and had an infectious energy that Rory enjoyed. Eventually she realized that it wasn't fair of her to be comparing Jess to Maris. None of the flings and whatever in between had really suffered that - because she hadn't allowed herself to get too close. This moment felt like both relationships were racing through her mind all at once.

"Yes, we did." She agreed, finding her voice finally. It felt inauthentic, and unfair to boil down their relationship to that. The alternative however, would be an even more awkward encounter. Jess could be prone to passive-aggressive jealousy, and honestly Rory didn't want to deal with that right now. She'd told Jess about past relationships of course, Maris being the biggest and most important, but she didn't delve deep or ever go into much detail, not with her relationship with Maris. Even with how painful their ending had been, Rory didn't particularly feel like sharing. Maybe she should have felt bad about that ... but she never had.

If the earth could only be so kind as to open up and swallow her whole, Rory would have been very grateful for it. She internally (hopefully) winced at Maris' question, and opened her mouth to answer in the hopes that she could hedge whatever Jess might say. Please don't make this worse, she pleaded as she finally spoke with. "Yes, we're --" And Jess, in her fashion, chimed in, nodding enthusiastically. "Oh yeah, I wasn't gonna wait long before I locked this down." She was grinning so big that Rory forced a smile through just how wildly uncomfortable she was. True, they hadn't set a date yet and things were moving slower than Jess would have liked, but Rory had always needed her time. She was still getting to the point of telling people she was engaged.

"We met at a school fundraiser, Jess has a shop she donated a gift basket from..." Nobody cared about this, but Rory felt the need to say something, like it would explain how this all came to be. God, she hated how much she wanted to apologize.

"No, of course not." Even though she hadn't even gotten close to asking Rory to marry her and even though she still had all manner of arguments against marriage, she could understand why Jess had been in a hurry to make things official with Rory.

Women like her didn't come along every day and part of the reasons why the stereotype that lesbians were quick to settle down persisted was because it was hard to find a queer woman to settle down with. Rory was a catch. Rory deserved happiness, but did it have to happen so fast? Five years was a strange amount of time. It was a short to some, long to others. It hardly seemed long enough to find and get to know the person you were going to (and in Maris' cynical mind it was always allegedly) spend the rest of your life with. Especially since she doubted Rory & Jess had coupled up right after their break up.

Had they? Who was this Jess person? Had Rory made the first move? Did they eat naked take out? Was Jess all over her as soon as they shut the front door? Did Rory laugh while she fumbled with her clothes the way she had whenever Maris acted the same?

Maris had so many questions and already knew the answers would do more harm than good, but she kept pressing the same way you couldn't help but dig your fingers into a bruise.

"So, we're almost all teachers here, what do you do, Jess?"

The question may have been directed at Rory's fiance, but Maris eyes were on Rory. There was an undeniable hurt there, but something else too. Her eyebrow was raised in an almost challenge, a warning that she would be listening carefully to see if this woman's career met her standards. She wanted to know if Jess was good enough for Rory, but most of all, she wanted to judge whether this woman was somehow better, more accomplished than her.

Maybe it was normal when deeply in love with someone, but Rory had always felt a sort of inevitability to her relationship with Maris. That super heart-eyes kind of warmth that wrapped them up in their relationship had Rory so secure in the idea that they were in it for the longest of hauls. They didn't have to push each other towards marriage or kids because they did a pretty damn good job of choosing each other every day, regardless. Until they didn't. The loss of that future she had seen so clearly was part of a blow that hit the hardest. The day to day loss of Maris bled into a loss she felt for the future they were building together. It felt weird now, standing in front of Maris and copping to the idea of a life with someone else.

Years ago, Rory and Maris could have had long conversations about the future, many of which included mocking those who fell right into the U-HAUL territory. Friends of theirs who got hitched within months of meeting each other. Others who coupled up so fast and crashed just as hard because they didn't take the time to know each other. They would have a secret language of side-eye that came with an air of superiority because they were so solid.

Rory couldn't help the look she shot Maris in direct response to her question, a knowing one. She knew why she was asking, and would have cringed if she didn't have better control over herself. "Oh! I own a little shop, we partner with local vendors and small businesses. Everything from candles to jewelry..." It was a cute shop, the kind that she was sure she and Maris at one point or another would have spent $50 on a single goddamn candle and then been annoyed by the pretentiousness of it ten minutes later. Jess was sweet, and a little ball of energy. They had great conversations but if she had to compare - the intellect wasn't as sharp and challenging as with Maris. It wasn't bad, it was just different.

Rory wanted to reach out for Maris, and that was a surprising feeling to have at present. She should probably have a more protectiveness towards her current relationship. Instead, it was the pull towards Maris and having the time to actually explain herself and the years they'd been apart. She stubbornly reminded herself she didn't owe her anything, but she still felt like she did. "We should get you a welcome basket," Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck was all that ran through her mind, chastising herself even as she spoke. "An official welcome to town gift... thing."

A gift basket? Her lips twitched, a bubble of laughter nearly escaping them. What was Rory thinking? It seemed more like sympathy, a Sorry Your Ex Is Fucking (and Marrying) Someone Else, special. What would it include, a vibrator and a housecoat to putter around the house in when she embraced the fact that she hadn't found anyone else yet and adopted five more cats.

But she was curious. Jess was...perky. Maybe she was lumping her in with a tv character she couldn't stand with the same name but she imagined a shop full of twee trinkets, tote bags with birds and lace doilies. Rory deserved better and Maris couldn't help but be angry with her for settling for less.

"That sounds sweet! I'd love one if you have the time."

It sounded like a compliment, but Rory knew her well enough to know it was slightly backhanded. She hated the word sweet. It was a throwaway, just like the word "nice". Meaningless filler used when you felt obligated to say something about someone or something that inspired no real reaction, or worse, a bad one. Ugly babies were sweet. It was sweet of your aunt Ruth to buy you an ugly sweater you'd never wear. You tell someone they're sweet right before you turn down their dinner invitation.

Okay, that was a terrible idea. Rory pursed her lips tightly together like that would somehow hide what she was thinking. This was awful, and in her inability to think of anything brilliant to say to Maris or something to offer, she'd thrown out a gift basket. Who the fuck did that? She'd like to think that she would do all of this differently if given the chance ... but how would she do it differently? Well, she probably would have found a way to tell Maris before her fiancée showed up in the first place. She probably shouldn't have been so shocked and then enamored with her presence days ago and instead kept things completely factual. 'Nice to see you, we parted really badly, I hated both you and myself for a very long time, I'm engaged.' Not very tactful, but effective.

Immediately, Rory felt like she was supposed to be justifying why she had chosen Jess. She felt like she should be rambling off great things about what made them work as a couple, or how madly in love with each other they were. None of that felt right, and even then - mad was never something she'd use to describe their relationship. Had she shied away from anything that made her feel so strongly? Absolutely, but there was safety in comfort, and comfort was a longevity thing. It was easier to trust it.

Maris' response made her twist her lips together harder - though it was to stave off a smirk rather than anything else. She knew the tone. She knew what she meant. Her eyes caught Maris' big brown ones and she didn't want to look away. Was it crazy to feel like they could still communicate with just a look? Well, the tone of Maris' comment was communication in itself - but Jess didn't suspect a thing.

Rory struggled for something to say, but luckily (mercifully), Jess spotted a couple of their friends and waved. "Go ahead, I'll catch up." Rory managed to get out thankful too that Jess just left (Rory's pink bear in arm) with a quick 'So nice to meet you!' and no more of an affection display to Rory than a squeeze of her hand before she was gone -- but not too far.

One, two, three breaths filled her lungs before she felt like she could actually speak again. "Jesus, I'm so sorry. That's not ... I didn't ... That's not how I wanted you two to meet."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

Maris meant it. Rory had every right to go out and find someone who made her happy, especially after the way she treated her, but did she have to go out and find someone so...insipid? If they were engaged, it stood to reason that Rory had found something she liked about Jess, but why hadn't she told Maris about her?

A fiance was hardly something to gloss over when giving someone you hadn't seen in ages a run down your life since you'd seen them last, even if that someone was an ex.

But she'd noticed, more than noticed, felt the way their eyes met after she'd been snarky toward Jess. Not that the other woman had noticed, further proof to Maris that Rory's fiance just wasn't up to par. Was Rory...ashamed of her? Unhappy?

Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

Maris knew that she should probably say something. Politeness dictated that she should tell Rory her fiance was "sweet" or "nice" (there were those words again) and that she was happy for her.

But she wasn't and she couldn't help but worry that showing that would make her come off as bitter and pathetic.

Maris wanted Rory to be happy. It was the reason why she'd coaxed her into taking the job that pushed them apart in the first place, but the problem now was the same as it was back then.

She wanted her to be happy with her.

And she wasn't about to admit that either.

She gripped her bag, more tightly, shifting it so it would be easier to carry, a silent signal that she was preparing to leave. "Don't let her keep that." Maris nodded toward the bear Jess was holding while she chatted with her friends. "I won it for you."