Summary: It's just a little, short piece about Lorelei in high school.
Disclaimer: All characters in here are not mine. They are from "Gilmore Girls." Owned by the WB, Amy Sherman-Palladino, and Dorothy Parker Drank Here Productions.
Author's Note: This is my first "Gilmore Girls" fanfic.
"Will you marry me?"
Lorelai Gilmore gaped at her boyfriend Christopher as they stood by her locker in the hallway. Students passed them, rushing to their next class, but the two of them stood in a bubble, oblivious to their surroundings. As she stood in the hall, struggling to comprehend this and to make a decision, Christopher stood nearby, awaiting her reply.
The tardy bell's ringing broke their thoughts.
Christopher grabbed her hand. "Come on Lorelai. We're late." She grabbed her necessary books, slammed her locker shut, and the two of them dashed off to class. As they ran, her thoughts were not on their tardy, but on his proposal.
Married. To Christopher. Married to Christopher, the most wonderful and hot guy she had ever met. Not only would she get the man of her dreams, but their child would have a father. Unlike some guys she knew, Christopher wanted to be their for her and their child, and Lorelai was tempted to let him.
When they reached Chem Lab, he held the door open for her. Her heart melted. He was such a gentleman. After an angry Look from their teacher and a curt "Wait after class," they settled into their seats on opposite ends of the room. The teacher continued to drone on about something, giving Lorelai the chance to continue thinking about Christopher's proposal.
She turned to look at him, and really looked at him. She saw, not the man of her dreams, but a teenage boy. Certainly not someone ready to take on the burden of a wife and infant child. She tried to picture their life together, but failed to conjure up a happy image. Instead, she pictured them poor and angry, living on welfare. Christopher, so brilliant and clever, would be bogged down and forced to settle for less if they married. She could never do that to him. For she loved him. She loved this teenager, this unready boy thrown into a situation in which he had no idea what to do. She wouldn't let this ruin him; she loved him. Hastily, she ripped a page out of her notebook and scribbed a single word - only two letters - on it.
The note passed from one hand to another until it finally reached him. Eagerly, he unfolded it. A single word lay on the scrap of paper.