A/N: Well, this is it. The last chapter of my first multi-chapter fic, Only Once. Thanks to everyone, as always, for all the reviews; it really made this a lot more fun to write when I heard what everyone thought of it. Also, I know the last part is kind of cheesy, but I think that it deserved a little Gouda. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and please feel free to review it as much as necessary ; )

Disclaimer: Do you really think that I would own it anymore than I have this entire story? I don't think so.

Drum roll, please…

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And she didn't stop, either; not the entire drive there. She didn't call her mom or Lane, and she didn't think it over. She didn't make a pro/con list. She didn't need to. Because, she knew now, even if she did—even if it was too late, she had to try. She had to.

She turned the car off, taking the key out of the ignition. Shit, she thought, reaching for her purse. Shit. Her breathing was heavy as she fumbled with the cap to her mascara, finally taking out the brush and applying it with a shaking hand.

Smoothing out her skirt, she stepped out of the car and headed for the door of Truncheon Books. She took a deep breath, and turned the doorknob, praying, hoping—fucking begging to God that he was in there.

Apparently it paid off.

She looked at him, dutifully working, writing, actually, not even noticing that someone—her, for God's sake—had entered the room.

"Hey," she said quietly. He didn't look up. "Hey," she said again, louder this time. He looked up. A million different things flashed across his face; surprise, and confusion, and maybe, at least, she hoped, happiness.

"Hey," he said. They just stared, quietly taking each other in. Wow, she thought, studying every part of him. His hair was a little longer, with no gel like when she had seen him the last time. He was wearing a button-up shirt and jeans, and his eyes were as coffee-bean brown as always. And, my God, she had never, ever seen anyone look as good as he did. At least, as he did to her.

"Mariano!" someone yelled, breaking the silence that they had been sharing.

Jess shook his head, as though coming out of a daze. "Yeah, uh, what—what is it?" he stuttered. She smiled; glad that she could still have that effect on him.

"Oh," said the guy—a tall, skinny brunette that looked about Jess's age—when he noticed Rory. He looked amused. "Who's the chick?"

"Um," muttered Jess, clearly embarrassed. "This is Rory. Rory, this is Ted."

"Nice to meet you," she said, flashing him a wife-of-a-politician smile.

"You too," said Ted. He nodded. "Finally."

"What?" asked Rory.

"Don't mind him," mumbled Jess, blushing. Jess, blushing. Rory took note of this.

"So," he said. "How are you? Since we last talked, I mean."

She knew what he meant. "Actually," she said. "I'm good. Really good, as a matter of fact."

"Huh," said Jess nonchalantly, but Rory detected a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Yup."

"Rory," he said, his face serious. "Why are you here?" She knew that he knew the answer. And he knew that she knew that he knew the answer. But he wanted to hear her say it, whatever it was, and she wanted to tell him, whatever it was. And now she was not only nervous but incredibly confused.

And out of all the things that she could've said, out of all the quotes from books she knew he'd read; and movies she knew he'd seen; and songs she knew he'd listened to; only one line worked its way into her head. Twenty-two point eight miles, she thought.

"Because," she said, her voice breaking. "Because you looked it up."

She wasn't sure who took the first step. Whether it was him or her who took that leap, letting go of everything to grab hold of something that much more important. She realized that she would probably never know. She also realized that, in the end, it didn't really matter.

All that mattered was that it was taken, and before she knew it they were kissing. She was surprised at how quickly she recognized his taste, but then again, she wasn't. It was just like she had remembered.

She pressed her mouth against his, never wanting to let go. Her head felt light and she was dizzy; everything was in reds and yellows and oranges. Heat colors.

She stepped back—but only a little, resting her arms on the back of his neck.

"It's you," she said simply. "It's always been you."

He grabbed her waist, pulling her into another kiss. She smiled at how well they fit together; like two pieces of a puzzle finally in the right place.

He opened his eyes, matching her sea for chocolate.

"Huh," he whispered into her mouth, and she laughed.

All around them, the world turned. If they just put on the radio or the TV and waited, they could see everything. Somewhere out there, someone was driving, someone was reading, someone was singing. There were babies crying, and students writing, and so many people all doing different things. But right then—right at that very moment—it was just him and her and them, together, two people that had a million things going against them, but still managed to make it happen. Huh.