A 1967 Red Corvette

By: Bethany Inc.

A story for Trory addicts

A 1967 Red Corvette can hold quite a few memories: A beautiful Trory people have been asking me to write.

Run around day and night barely never time to fight

We're different from all the rest

How do you do it, putting up with me

Let me tell you baby you're the best

Well, it makes no sense having us apart

You'd have to see it or you'd be blind

When we're together I'm so confused

When we're apart your on my mind

Let's take a break from our life all the pain all the strife

It sounds too good to be true

Living my life and singing my songs

And yes, baby I've got you

"When had I become such a sucker for happy endings? Oh yes, that's right, when mine was fucking taking me from that son of a bitch we have to call a father. The jackass – shipping me off to North Carolina like he was doing me a favor. What a fucking dumbass… I hope he knows it's just going to back fire. Seriously, I'm going to give him fucking shit, Tricia!" I snapped into my phone, leaning against the passenger side door of my '67 red corvette. I was stalling – I didn't want to go inside and face the consequences of what I had just done.

My sister sighed into her end of the phone, and I could see her shaking her head at my vulgarity. I couldn't help it! I was ripped shit about how much of a jackass my father was being, "Tristan," she sighed, "I can't help you out of this."

"Tricia, you're married! You have a two year old! Let me move in with you – you're his golden child. He'll listen to you."

"Tristan," she said again, and now I definitely could see her shaking her head, "You brought this upon yourself. You shouldn't have broken into that safe."

"I was an idiot!"

"Was?"

"Fine, I still am! But come on – I always do stupid shit like this! Why does he have to ship me off to fucking hick town, USA over some stupid stunt? It's not like we got away with it, and it's a month later when his dad sobers up and tries to find money to pay his stupid hooker!"

"I'll call dad." She relented, and I heard Laura squeal in the background: 'Grampy'.

"Thank you."

"I wouldn't consider yourself off the hook, Tristan."

"I won't. Call me." I hung up my cell phone, and tossed my cigarette bud to the ground, crushing it with the toe of my sandal. I ran a hand through my hair, and pulled my jacket a bit tighter over my torso, heading towards the door that led into the school auditorium.

Maybe I wouldn't have to deal with the consequences of what I did until after the little skit tonight. My father wasn't one to make a scene in public – so that's my answer. Stay in a crowd the entire night and wait for the fucking storm to cop a landing as soon as I walk inside the foyer tonight.

Sounds like a pretty fool proo--- "Tristan Orion Dugrey!"

Shit, "What?" I snarl, not even bothering to stop, or glance over my shoulder to meet the cold glare my father was most certainly giving my back.

"Oh don't you give me that 'The-Devil-may-care' attitude, Tristan." He hissed, grabbing my shoulder, and swinging me around. I winced slightly as he pressed into a pressure point, "I didn't break into that stupid safe—you did. You idiot! What in God's name were you thinking? No, don't answer that! Obviously you weren't!"

"Shut up," I snapped, backing away from his grip, and shaking my head, "Why do you fucking care? I messed up – I get it. Now let's build a bridge and get the hell over it."

My father threw his head back, and let out what I supposed was a menacing chuckle before meeting my glare straight on, "You don't get it, do you Tristan?"

"Get what?"

"This wasn't some stupid prank that I can wipe away with a blink of an eye, Tristan!" He growled, clenching his fist – I could here his knuckles cracking. I made a face: he knew I couldn't stand the sound of cracking knuckles, or any other body part for that matter, "What you did was illegal! You're lucky the police are letting the parents handle this or you'd be sitting in a four by six cell right now with a fucking toilet in the corner! Do you understand me?"

"Whatever," I shrug, pulling the carton of Marlboros out of my pocket, pulling a thin stick out, and putting it in my mouth. I put the carton back inside my pocket, and fish around for my lighter, quickly lighting my cigarette and inhaling, "It's not like shipping me off to the boonies is gonna do much, either."

"It's better then letting you screw up here."

"How? Give me one good reason why sending me out of here is better then letting me stay? What's the logic behind that, oh great one?" I took a long drag of my cigarette, letting the smoke nestle every crook of my mouth, before letting the smoke come out in a wisp. I tapped my foot impatiently while I watched my father shake his head and sigh, "Well?"

"You want a good reason, Tristan? Well here's a good reason: So you won't end up fucking six feet under like Tyler. So you won't get a fucking girl pregnant and drive yourself to drink away your little mistake. You need another reason, Tristan? Because believe me, I can give you a hold handful."

I laughed bitterly, and flicked ashes to the ground, and shake my head, "What the fuck is your problem, dad? Why would you ever – I mean ever bring Tyler up? What the hell is your problem?"

"You're my problem, Tristan! You have no regard for the rules! No respect for your mother or I – and the only thing we've ever done is try and give you the world!"

"Maybe I don't want the world!" I yelled, flinging my cigarette to the ground, half smoked. "Maybe that's not what I fuckin' want. Have you thought about that? Maybe I just want parents that aren't so caught up in their own lives that they notice someone else besides them fucking selves! Maybe I want the attention, okay? Maybe I need someone who I can look up too—who the hell else is there? You certainly weren't it! Tyler did one stupid thing, and he died because of it! God – he was a great person – but he died! Your pride and joy died and you act like you're the only one who had the right to grieve!"

He shook his head, and stepped forward, wrapping his arms around me in what I assumed was a manly hug. I hesitated, not particularly liking this newfound action on his part. I wrapped my arms around him, and sighed, "I just wanted the attention," I sigh.

"I know."

"I'm sorry," I say, pulling away from him, and running my hand through my hair, trying to regain some of the masculinity I'd just lost by hugging my father. I shove my hands into my jeans pocket, and shrug.

My dad dug his hand into his front pocket of his trousers, and pulled out his cell phone. He always had it on vibrate – so it wouldn't interrupt heated arguments like the one we had just had. He sighed slightly, "Charles Dugrey – talk to me." I dug around in pocket again, pulling out my Marlboros, pulling one out, and lighting it the second my lighter was out of my pocket. I shoved the carton away, half listening to my dad's one sided conversation, "Tricia, you're not serious." I smirk somewhat, blowing a ring of smoke out of my mouth. I knew Tricia would always come through for me, "Why would you want him to live with you? –pause—Because you know he's a good kid? Have you met your brother?"

Tricia raises her voice – a thing she never does with anyone, I can hear her, and I smile. I love my sister, even if she did need to grow a spine somewhat, "Fine. Tomorrow. He moves in with you for a month and if he doesn't straighten out – he's gone, Tricia. I meant it."

"Gee, talk like I'm not standing four fucking feet away from you," I sigh, flicking ashes to the ground, letting my gaze flicker over the lit parking lot. I don't exactly know what I was looking for – maybe I was just looking for her. But that was ridiculous, she was inside with her mother and no doubt bag boy.

God, what an asswipe. He didn't deserve a girl like her – hell, I didn't deserve a girl like her. I knew that, she knew that, her mother knew that, Jesus Christ! Every damn person in Chilton knew I didn't deserve her. But God, did I want her. I want her so bad, it hurt my insides just to think about it.

"Tristan," my father said, clamping a hand on my shoulder, "You're moving in with your sister."

"Okay."

"I don't want any bad behavior for the next month."

"I know."

"I don't want one single call from school, or from your sister. If I get one damn call Tristan, I'll have your neck."

"I know."

"You better not think Tricia will always be around to save your neck."

"I don't."

"Get your ass inside, and Jesus, Tristan – quit smoking. You're going to kill yourself."

"We all die sooner or later – I'd rather my obituary be in the paper sooner," I say, and crush the butt of my cigarette on pavement with the heel of my left sandal. I shove my hands in the pockets of my jacket, and head through the already open doors of the auditorium.

I knew Paris was bound to be having a fit by now – I was twenty minutes late. I shrugged; hey, if I could handle Bowman's dad, two police officers, my grandfather, and my father, what as a little Paris thrown on top? I shook my head, and gave a few confident smirks at a few girls in the audience, and headed backstage.

Man, was I right. Paris was throwing a fit, and it seemed like Rory was on the receiving end. "I knew he was going to do this, but no one wanted to listen to me. It was all, let's make Tristin Romeo, he's hot."

"What about Brad?"

"Brad transferred schools," Paris sighed, and I smirked, deciding now was better then ever to make my presence known to the two lovely ladies in front of me. Paris saw me first, and if looks could kill, man would I be dead, "Where have you been? You have to get dressed, we're on in ten minutes."

"Are you going to help me get dressed?" I leer, a smirk fully intact on my face.

"Dolt!" she exclaims, throwing her hands in the air, "Get dressed. Now, and I mean it Tristan – we're on in ten minutes and if you are not ready I will hang you by your toes from the chandelier in the entrance hall. I have connections, Tristan – no one will know it was me."

"I will," Rory chimed, and I laughed, slinging my arm around her shoulder.

"Yes, Mary will know." I watched Rory make a face, and move away from what I had declared inside my head as a friendly gesture.

"Ugh! Get dressed now!"

I nod, and looked around for my costume, "And what will I be dressing in for this oh so lovely skit?" I looked back to wear Paris was just standing, and I was surprised not to find her still standing there, "Where'd she go?"

"Here," she said from behind me, making me jump.

I sighed, and scrunched my face up, taking the costume from her hands ."Thanks," I say, and she puts her hands on my shoulders, shoving me forward, and steering me into an empty classroom.

"Change."

I shrug my jacket off, throwing it on one of the school desks, before pulling my polo up and over my head, placing it directly on top of my jacket. "Here you forgot your sh— Oh man, I'm sorry.. Oh god."

I turn quickly, and smirk. I rose my left eyebrow, and tilt my head to the side, taking in the look on Rory's face. I flex my muscles slightly as I go to shove my hands into the back pockets of my jeans, "Can I help you with something, Mary?"

Rory closed her eyes, and made her way towards me, "Shoes. Here. You forgot them."

I laughed, and took the shoes from her hands, placing them on one of the desks next to me, "You can open your eyes Mary – it's not like I have a huge stomach, and man boobs. I think I look pretty decent without a shirt on, don't you?" A blush overcame her cheeks, and I chuckled, grabbing the shirt of the costume, and pulling it over my head, shoving my arms through the sleeves, "I'm decent."

"Oh good," she sighs, and opens her eyes, cracking a smile, albeit a weak one. "I'm sorry," she says, biting on the corner of her lower lip, "I thought.. well… I thought you'd be done or looking the costume over.. I didn't mean to walk in on you… undressing. Oh man, that sounds really dirty."

"Rory?" Oh shit, here comes bag boy. Exactly what I fucking need – that insipid jackass walking in here. "Hey Ror," he says, walking into the room, stopping when he sees me, "Accountant." He snarls, walking behind Rory, and wrapping his arms around her waist, "Is he bothering you, Ror?"

"No," she says, giving me a stronger smile, before turning to look at Dean, "I was just giving him his shoes."

"Oh," he nods, giving me a death glare, before grabbing her hand, "Your mom wants to talk to you. Let's go." She nods, and lets him pull her from the room.

"See you in a few," she calls to me, turning the corner.

I shook my head, and let out a hot breath of air: I really needed a cigarette. I finished getting out of my regular clothes, and redressed myself in this ridiculous costume Rory's mother made. It was nice, albeit far from what I would have liked to wear. I slipped the shoes on, groaning that I wouldn't have socks to wear—Jesus would my feet smell after this stupid skit.

I folded my clothes, and rolled my neck on my shoulders, leaving the classroom. I stopped in the doorway, and looked back at my clothes, and then towards the door I'd walked in through a few minutes ago – did I have time for a cigarette?

"Tristan!" Paris hissed, rounding the corner, and grabbing a hold of my wrist, "We're on in two minutes! Get your ass moving!"

I followed her, relentlessly letting her have a death grip on my wrist, "Christ, Gellar," I groan, shaking my head, "You act like this is Broadway."

"It is Broadway, jackass," she hisses, and I can tell that we're near the other group that was still performing on stage by the volume of her voice, "It's the Broadway of Chilton tonight, and if you screw up, I'll kill you."

"Now isn't that encouraging." I tease, loosening my wrist from her grip, peaking in between the curtains with her – waiting to see if someone on stage screwed up.

---GG---

The moment I had been waiting for was coming, and I had to say I was pretty excited about kissing Rory Gilmore in front of all those people. It was satisfaction knowing that I could make her boyfriend steam with anger when I'd ever so gently coerce a kiss from his girlfriend in front of him – and know that he couldn't do one damn thing about my lips on hers.

I held back my smirk, as I ran my hand across Rory's forehead, taking in her beauty, "A dateless bargain to engrossing death!" I stage whisper, leaning down and planting a kiss on Rory's forehead, "Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavory guide! Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on the dashing rocks thy seasick weary bark!" I raised a glass bottle up to my lips, keeping my eyes on Rory's eyelids the entire time, "Here's to my love! Oh true apothecary! ….. Thy drugs are quick." I moaned, resting a hand on Rory's waist, "Thus… with a kiss, I die.." I ran my lips over hers, softly at first, but with a little bit more force towards the end – and I could swear I felt her lips moving against mine, reciprocating my dying kiss.

I bite the inside of my cheek, and lay my head on her chest, and close my eyes. I'm dead, and I can't think of any better way to die then having my head on Rory's chest. I can hear her heart beat thumping inside her rib cage, and can hear her shallow breaths coming from her nostrils.

---GG---

"You did good," Rory says, as soon as the curtain closes, and I reluctantly lift my head from her chest, "I mean.. with the whole kissing thing… I was half expecting you to shove your tongue down my throat." She laughs, and pulls her Juliet hat off of her head, holding it against her chest with her arms as she follows me off stage.

I smile over my shoulder at her, "Do you want me too?" I asked, walking backwards to face her.

She blushes, and looks towards the door to where bag boy and her mother were waiting for her, "I'll take a rain check." She says, walking towards the girl's bathroom.

I watch her walk away, and smirk – I'd take whatever contact I could get from Rory Gilmore.

---GG---

"He broke up with me," Rory said as soon as I made my way to lean against the locker next to hers, "Do you want to know why Dean broke up with me, Tristan?"

"I have the tiniest idea you'd tell me anyway if I said no – so yes. I do want to know why he broke up with you… Again."

"Because of you," she said, opening her locker, and slamming her book bag onto the ground. Well if that wasn't a bomb, and the explosion in my gut wasn't it's explosion, I didn't know what was, "And because of Jess. Apparently he can't trust me hanging around with so many guys – meaning, just you and Jess. What a jerk."

It'd been three months since the play, and I have to say that the relationship I'd developed with Rory after her hint at a rain check for me sticking my tongue down her throat had become enjoyable. I hadn't kissed her since our stage kiss – but man, had I thought about tossing her onto my bed and having my way with her.

I wouldn't though – if a girl said no, a girl said no. And Rory had said no plenty of times – albeit, she'd just been thinking I was messing with her. It was nice, having Rory as a friend and beings able to call her, or just hang out with her without a hidden agenda. Although, my agenda wasn't exactly hidden.

I shook my head, and tucked a strand of Rory's hair behind her ear for her, and roll my eyes, "Well if I was bag boy, I'd be pretty jealous of me too." I teased, sticking my hands in my blazer pockets, fingering my carton of cigarettes and lighter. "So," I said, as she slammed her locker closed, and picked her book bag up off the ground, slinging it onto her shoulders, "When'd he do it?"

"This morning," she sighed, shaking her head, "at Luke's. He did it in front of my mother, Luke – everyone. I'm the talk of the town."

"Haven't you always been?" I asked, as we made our way across the school. I throw my hand over my mouth and yawn, watching her out of the corner of my eye.

"No – yes. Well, somewhat."

"Care to broaden that horizon, Mary?"

"No," she said, turning and looking at me. She glanced at my hands in my pocket, and gave me a knowing look, "Go kill yourself, Tristan." She said with a smile, and stepping into her homeroom.

Oh you slay me, Rory Gilmore. I walked away, heading for the front doors – I'd never fully understand how her mind worked.

Two months ago I was graced with the lovely privilege of moving back into the mansion my parents and I called home. I'd been on my best behavior since Rory had given me the chance to be her friend. It worked—of course I was still prone to doing stupid shit that always got me into a smidgeon of trouble – but hey, I'm a Dugrey and Dugrey's can worm their way out of anything.

I pulled a fresh cigarette out of my pocket, and sat on the front steps as I lit it. I breathed in about four thousand chemicals, and it felt good. I was killing myself off slowly – and baby I liked the feeling.

---GG---

Author Note: This is my first ultimate Trory. I've started many before – but they've always turned into a different Romance. I think this will be up to the standards of all my readers – Don't you all think?

I just randomly started this – I intended this to be a one-shot – but I don't know how to get them together in one chapter… I've tried one-shots before, and believe me dolls, I am not good at it – I wouldn't even get a yellow ribbon for attempting to be a one-shot writer.

I don't know how much I'll update this – but I will let you all know this probably won't go over ten chapters – and I'll probably only update once or twice a month – hey, I've got two other fanfictions going on right now, and I'm not like Kellie – I can't keep up with eighteen stories at a time.

If you all haven't heard of Kellie (jmarit17) I suggest you read all of her stuff – they're amazing, and most of them are Trories for you Trory addicts out there.

So – read and review. Reviews make my day worthwhile – it's like a high, I don't know what else to say about them!

3 Bethany