Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot line. I do not own Gilmore Girls, nor the passage from Jane Eyre in the beginning of this chapter.
AN: This will be the first posted piece I've done, I hope you like it. Basically Rory and Tristan get paired up for an Economics project in which they uncover the hidden truths about each others life's. :) R/R
Rated: T
Chapter : Fickle finger
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'Oh, you are indeed there, my sky-lark! Come to me. You are not gone: not vanished? I heard one of your kind an hour ago, singing high over the wood: but its song had no music for me, any more than the rising sun had rays. All the melody on earth is concentrated in my Jane's tongue to my ear (I am glad it is not naturally a silent one): all the sunshine I can feel is in her presence.'
With a sigh Rory closed her book with a thump as the coffee maker purred to life beside her. Gingerly pushing her chair back and stepping towards the cabinet, she paused briefly, flitting her eyes towards the window. She gazed wistfully out, looking, but not really seeing. Her mind had been doing that to her a lot lately.
Slowly regaining her composure at the sound of feet prancing down the stairs, she resumed her task as her hand wrapped around the pop-tart package. Quickly un-wrapping them and placing them in the toaster beside her; she made quick work of grabbing two coffee mugs and placing them next to the brewing coffee pot.
"Again, babe?" Lorelai questioned with a frown.
"Yeah, I'm afraid so; Only this time I truly have a reason for getting little, to no sleep." She stated , a hint of raillery in her voice.
"How was I suppose to know a marathon of The Patty Duke show would scare you?"
"You should have just known, your my mother after all."
"Ha" she laughed pointing a finger towards her "So I've led you to believe."
Pouring the steaming coffee into a mug and handing it towards her mother with a smile, she exhaled "Sometimes I wonder whose raising who."
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Sleep was eluding her. She knew eventually it would start to wear her down, but for now she was fine with just getting by on the bare minimum. Especially if getting by meant not having to approach Tristan. Seeing as how he was the cause of so many of her sleepless nights. No, it was nothing dirty. However, that didn't stop the blush from slowly creeping up her face, resting as cute rosy patches on her cheek. Thinking about him always made her blush. No, this was much worse then a dirty Tristan, this was a sad Tristan. A broken Tristan. A pulverized Tristan. Ok, so maybe she was getting ahead of herself, he probably didn't even care, or remember. She on the other hand couldn't forget. How could she have said she "Hated" him. Hate is such a strong word. At the time, she had said it with such force, such conviction, she herself had almost believed it. She didn't of course, but something about the way those three words resonated in her ear that day, made her want to cry, right then, and there.
"Oomph" One false move in the hallways of Chilton and you were a goner. I'm guessing tripping on your own shoelace, books flying every which way, and you yourself landing with a less then lady like grunt at the feet of the "king", the one and only cause for this trance like state "Tristan" wasn't such a good thing, nor a very yearbookish moment.
"Well, well, well, Mary. Falling at my feet already?" Smirking he reached down and started to help her up.
Something about his tone, and the fact that he (although it was unbeknownst to him) was the real reason for her current quandary forced her to snap, seething with anger
"God Tristan, was your mother even married when you were born?"
"Are you Mary" he bellowed, adding an emphasis on Mary "calling me a bastard?"
"Hey, you said it, not me, but yes; I am. What of it?"
"I" Just as he was about to reply, the shrill noise of the bell ringing pulled him from his obvious enraged stupor.
"Later Mary; And I do mean later." He rounded the corner with a familiar hand through the hair maneuver.
God, he infuriated her so much. Picking up the rest of her fallen books, she weaved her way through the throng of students towards her first class. Economics. Oh, and yeah, Tristan was in this class. Albeit a very pissed of Tristan; But a Tristan none the less.
"Settle down everyone, settle down. Today were going to be starting a new project, and before you start groaning, I want you to note that this assignment will be worth 30 percent of this quarters grade. Now while I know some of you might think 30 percent, that's nothing, I can assure you, it is. It truly is. Now, I'm going to give you all an assigned partner. Each of you in turn will have to pick a family member, for your partner will be interning with them. Lets pair up, and then I'll continue with the instructions. Paris, and Brad. Louise and Brian. Rory and Tristan."
And suddenly at that very moment, Rory couldn't remember a single reason for wanting to apologize for what she said. Some how this was all his fault, she just knew it was.
How on earth was she suppose to be civilized with him long enough to get through this project, let alone, meet, and INTERN for his family. Not to mention him working at the inn with her mom. What a fickle finger fate had. Yes, a very fickle finger.
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It was short...but I was hoping to accomplish a few things with this chapter. One, find a beta, two see how people respond to the actual story, and three get a feel for writing again. I hope you liked it :)
LE