Disclaimer: I do not own Gilmore Girls.
Author's Note: The kiss on the piano bench did happen, Rory's not dating Dean at the moment, Paris is already editor of the paper. Any further info will be provided in these notes before the chapter. So I suggest you read them.
It was a Friday and Rory was looking forward to another weekend away from the Hell disguised as a preparatory school. Her encounters with Tristan were still filled with sexual innuendos from him and scathing brush offs from her.
The fact was he got under her skin and challenged her like she'd never been before. Sure, Paris was academically her competition. But Rory knew if Tristan put as much time in to his studies as he did in to picking up girls, he could've been at least right behind Paris and herself.
As it was, he didn't, and instead had her mind constantly engaged in coming up with comebacks to match his in their bantering. Rory would never admit it but she liked their bantering to a certain point. Just like she would never admit that Tristan was attractive in every way that most girls had eagerly admitted already.
"Gilmore!"
Rory almost dropped the books she'd currently been getting out of her locker.
"Paris," Rory greeted.
"No time, you need to move!" Paris said frantically. "Look, our computers we were using for the Franklin crashed and as you know our layout was completed and supposed to be on its way to print today. If we want the paper to go out as planned, like it has for decades past, someone needs to fix this. NOW!" she screamed.
"I'm sorry, Paris," Rory began calmly, "besides it being Friday, the job of layout was appointed to the editor by the editor which is you. In fact, you insisted that you do it yourself because you didn't trust anyone to even offer their input. Now, why exactly do I have to do anything? You can do it yourself like you always do."
Paris sighed and Rory thought she saw a flicker of sadness or defeat in her eyes.
"I can't do it at all, okay? If you must know, there's some meeting with my parents to settle some last minute details of their divorce. God only knows why I have to be there. It seems everyone is too incompetent to handle things such as keeping computers in functioning form! All you have to do is get the articles from the main server in the English room, and I already asked Mr. Hensley to let you use his computer in his office for the final layout. I need you to stay after and fix this. Decades, Gilmore!"
Rory sighed heavily. I mean it was Friday. But, she cared about the Franklin and she felt bad for Paris. Sighing again she answered, "Fine, Paris. Consider it done."
Relief jumped into the ambitious girl's body and eyes. It was quickly juxtaposed with a final, "Don't screw it up, Gilmore."
With that, she stalked off down
'Great,' Rory thought. 'Exactly how I planned to spend my evening. This is going to take forever.'
She scoffed, "All you have to do my foot," she mumbled and closed her locker.
The hallway was now completely clear as the last plaid skirt whipped out of sight through a side entrance down the hall from her locker.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Rory languorously stretched in her uncomfortable plastic computer chair. Her tie was loosened, sleeves rolled up halfway on her untucked shirt, and she her blazer hung on the back of her chair. Getting the articles from everyone's individual files took forever. She still had quite a few to do and she was seriously coffee deprived.
It wasn't as if she could leave with no car so she opted for getting some kind of beverage from one of the vending machines. Rory left the suffocating computer lab into the halls of Chilton turning down a hall near the cafeteria.
Standing in front of the vending machine, she bit her lip in thought and decided on a coke to get come caffeine in her system. Just as she was reaching to put her quarters in the slot a pair of lips were familiarly at her ear.
"Hey, Mary." Tristan said huskily.
Rory spun around and gasped audibly. Standing before her was a sweaty, indescribably hot Tristan in a clinging wife beater and black shorts. She always knew he was attractive, I mean she wasn't blind. It was just that his personality always seemed to overcome any passing thoughts on his looks. But now, her mind seemed to forget about his taunting remarks and her body was automatically responding to the sight of him. Her eyes took on a life of their own as they followed his body. His legs were muscular and tan and the wife beater he was wearing did nothing to hide his perfectly sculpted abs. Her eyes slowly went up to inspect his full, slightly parted lips, and past the chiseled features of his face to meet his slightly surprised, though very intrigued blue orbs. He was gorgeous.
And apparently very aware of the fact that she had just blatantly and thoroughly checked him out. Once blue on blue connected, the lips she had been admiring half a second ago curled in smirk.
"Well…isn't this interesting." He said.
"What are you doing here, Tristan?" Rory was embarrassed. She was not the kind of girl to check guys out like that – especially Tristan Dugrey. It was absolutely mortifying that he caught her.
Tristan watched as a fiery red bloomed across her cheeks like a flower. "I'm just enjoying the view, same as you. As much as I like you when your uniform's perfectly done up, I think I prefer it a bit…looser…like it is now." His voice got lower with the completion of his sentence and he stepped a bit closer. "You see, it makes it so much easier to get off."
Rory told herself to just ignore the comment. What had she been asking him?
"Since when do you stay after on a Friday? I imagine you have a very important party to get to."
"Well, Miss Gilmore, you know what they say about assuming. As a matter of fact I had soccer practice." He said as he lifted the bottom of his wife beater to wipe his brow.
He was doing it on purpose, she knew he had to be. Because as good as they looked from an outline, his six pack was to die for. Dean was cute, nice, sweet. He didn't have the body of a movie star but he was good looking. Tristan was…god…
Rory tugged on her skirt refusing to let herself get distracted again. She felt a verbal sparring match coming on and she had to be on top of her game. She inwardly cringed at the unintended innuendo. That was his forte, not hers.
"Really? But doesn't a sport like that increase the risk of messed up hair?"
He merely chuckled. "You play any sports Mary?"
She scoffed, "God no, I hate exercise."
He raised one eyebrow suggestively, "Oh, so you like to watch?"
"Nope," she yawned, "too boring, like talking to you."
"Aw, now I'm not boring. You could ask any one of the lovely ladies who have had the pleasure of my company. Or, I could show you just how fun I can be."
With that he pushed his body into hers with a force that sent her tumbling against the vending machine. Rory couldn't breathe, think, or move. He smelled delicious and she hated him for it. She hated that he would annoy her to death one minute, be sweet the next, and then tempt her after that.
"One day, Mary…I gave you a preview on that piano bench, but I can do so much more." He licked her earlobe but before he could back away, Rory shoved him with all her might and he hit the wall on the other side of the hallway.
She was furious. They hadn't talked about that night. They had both been vulnerable and the way he'd just described it. It was like he'd given her the privilege of tasting him. It was him exhibiting his huge ego to her once again. It was Friday, she still had work to do, she was talking to Bible Boy, and then for a split second she had wanted him. Wanted him to kiss her or hold her or something more intimate than either. It infuriated her.
His look was pure shock and incredulity.
"I am not one of the bimbos trailing after you," she hissed with venom soaking her words. "You think you are so much better than everyone else. That anything you have to offer should be sought after and worshipped. Even if no one else in this stupid, pretentious school feels the same way I do, it doesn't matter. I don't care what your last name is or what kind of car you drive. You want someone who insists on being able to attach the word 'rich' to the title of boyfriend then don't bother me. Go find someone else."
She saw a mixture of anger and annoyance flash in his eyes to accompany his surprise.
"You know what princess? You rag on me for thinking I'm so much better than anyone when you're the one making judgments and generalizations about people. You don't know me so don't pretend to. Why don't you go back to doing all your school work and polishing your halo." His words stung her. He'd never been angry with her like this. It made her even angrier at him.
"I'll go back to putting effort in to things that require thinking while you go back to kicking around a ball and then back to your Porsche where you no doubt have some idiot girl ready and willing. Well, only as soon as she found out you had a Porsche."
"Yeah, I'm sure there are at least three girls waiting for me when I'm done here. How are you and Bagboy?" he replied scathingly.
"Oh shut up!" she yelled. She didn't care if it wasn't clever. She whipped around and started storming back to the computer lab.
"Yeah, right back at ya!" he yelled to her retreating figure.
