Why couldn’t it be Rory he was quarantined with? That wouldn’t have been so bad. And by not so bad, Jess meant it would have been a dream come true; they would’ve read aloud to each other, made up a stupid game with the plastic coffee stirrers. He would’ve convinced her the stockroom was romantic and spent a good hour kissing her throat, his hands in her hair, the scent of her ginger and jasmine, not vanilla. Not like every other teenage girl.
He would have taken Lorelai and her neurotic patter. Luke, sullen. Kirk. Fucking Kirk.
He got Dean.