Sorry it took so long to post this but honestly, I thought the Fates were against me continuing this part of the story. Since my last posting I went on an extended vacation, had to put my laptop in to get fixed which lasted a month, only to find out I had to have it replaced, and I accidently erased this scene and had to rewrite it from scratch. I still don't think it's as good as when I originally wrote it, but I can live with it. Here's to hoping I can post the next scene sooner than later.

xoxoxoxoxo

Chilton looked different at night. The tall trees peppering the grounds shed mysterious shadows over the building, and when the winter air blew, the swaying of the trees fooled the eyes into thinking there were dangers hiding in those shadows. The soft radiance of the night lights gave the old brick structure a ominous glow and Rory half expected the things she imagined in the shadows would manifest in the light shed by those small lanterns and overhead lights. Chilton was no longer an institution of learning, but an intimidating brick building, containing menace for anyone who dared to trespass on its peaceful night.

Rory turned to Tristan, who was fiddling with a small bag he had taken out of his glove compartment before leaving the car. The handle of a small Maglite was fixed between his lips, shining into the bag as he took out a key. "Good," he said when he placed the Maglite into his coat pocket. "I thought I lost the key to this place."

"I don't want to do this, Tristan."

"Don't tell me you're getting cold feet, Mary."

"What if we get caught?"

"I've done this a dozen times and the only time I got caught was when that idiot Duncan started bragging about how we got that car into the school."

"But what if someone decides to come in?"

"It's Sunday night. The janitor has off and Charleston wouldn't come in unless he forgot something, and if he had, he would have come in yesterday."

Rory still wasn't convinced. This was wrong on so many levels. If they got caught, at the very least they would get suspended. As disconcerting as that felt, it didn't compare with the worse that could happen: Rory and Tristan could get expelled from Chilton and then formally charged with breaking and entering. Rory would have a criminal record and worse of all, expulsion from Chilton meant no Harvard. She couldn't afford for that to happen.

"Hey," he whispered, his hand caressing her upper arm tenderly. "We don't have to do this. You asked me to distract you and this is the best I could come up with. If you would rather do something else, we can go see a movie or go get some coffee." Then he lowered his forehead to hers. "But don't you want to? Don't you want to live dangerously once in your life?"

She smiled, amused. "You've been waiting to say that all night, haven't you?

He smiled back. "I knew it was only a matter of time." He laced his fingers with hers and gently pulled. "Come on."

Rory reluctantly followed, feeling some exhilaration despite her dread. She really should be putting her foot down, but being Tristan's girlfriend, she knew she would eventually be put into a precarious position. That didn't mean if they got caught, she would ever forgive him.

Tristan unlocked the door with the key he magically had. She wasn't about to ask him how he got it. She felt the less she knew about his illegal activities, the better. He let her in first and closed the door behind them. Inside the hall she felt even more intimidated. The usually bright, buzzing halls were eerily silent and dark, with the red exit signs glowing and the only true illumination coming from the skylights, letting some white light from the moon into the building.

Tristan turned on the Maglite, shining it as far down the hallway as possible. "So what do you want to do first?" He asked as they started down the hall. "We can raid the wood shop for spray pain and do Paris's locker. I'm thinking spraying 'fou' on it would be appropriate."

"I'm not spray painting 'crazy' in French on Paris's locker."

"What, too tame? You want to go with 'salope' instead?"

"No spray paint, period."

"Fine. How about the pool? I wouldn't mind going skinny dipping."

Rory glared at him. "Sure, and while we're at it, why don't I dye my hair blond and change my name to Christie Brinkley."

Tristan shrugged. "Works for me."

They continued walking in silence, and Rory wondered if this breaking and entering incident was about to be cut short since she wasn't going along with any of his ideas. She really didn't want to think of herself as some kind of prude, or a Mary, as he put it. But spray painting Paris's locker wasn't going to help her get into her good graces, and there was no way she was going to let Tristan see her naked, even though she was very interested in seeing him in his birthday suit.

Tristan stopped, his face turned toward this one classroom door. She couldn't see his face, so she couldn't speculate on what he was thinking. When he didn't speak for several seconds, she finally asked. "What?"

He turned back to her and smiled. "It's Mr. Remy's room."

She looked at the door again, remembering her teacher from last year. But she still had no clue why he had stopped. "And?"

He went into the classroom without explanation, so Rory curiously followed. The room was how it was last year, with the cherry desk facing the numerous rows of desks, the bookshelf in the back with books Rory suspected were just for show, and Friday's lesson still on the boards. Tristan sat on the edge of Remy's desk. "This is where I first saw you. I came back from…" Tristan stopped mid-sentence, seeming uncomfortable and started over. "I was out of school for a few days and when I came back, there you were, a new Mary."

She recalled that day. Mr. Remy was lecturing the class when a tall, lean, blond boy walked into the room, a slip in one hand and books in another. She remembered thinking he was cute in a Abercrombie and Fitch model type of way and then he caught her staring and she immediately averted her eyes, unhinged by the intensity of his gaze and the amused curl of his lips. She hadn't thought of him again until he caught up with her later, offering his notes for Remy's class. She thought he was being incredibly nice, until he wanted to have a study date and she refused. That's when his intent on calling her by that dreaded nickname became evident. That was when she knew he was a jerk.

"You never did let me borrow your notes for Remy's class."

Tristan smiled slyly. "You didn't want to make it a study date. You've seen my chicken scratch. There was no way you would have been able to make out my notes without my being there. "

"So you admit that offering me your notes was just a ploy to get a date out of me."

"Of course it was a ploy. I've used that line on all the new girls I wanted to date. But you were the first to refuse my help."

"I guess I was the only one that had some standards."

His smile grew as he pulled her close to him. "Really?" He said huskily, his lips an inch away from hers. "Then how did you end up here?"

Her breath wavered as his mouth settled on hers, his arms enveloping her and pressing her into him. Rory instinctively encircled her arms around his neck, savoring the wonderful electrified ripples coursing through her body and settling in her stomach. She loved being so close to him, threading her fingers in his smooth blond hair, resting her arms on his broad shoulders, feeling his warmth seep into her. She sighed as his hands slid to her hips and deepened the kiss. She was so glad she got him to quit smoking, at least when he was around her. It made him taste so much better.

She was happy to lose herself in the kiss, but when Tristan's hands started to unbutton her coat, her idle mind became alert, and the moment she felt his fingertips slip under her sweater to touch her waist, she pulled away slightly. Her eyes met his, gauging his reaction and seeing nothing there. She thought he would be disappointed or frustrated, but he just looked back at her, his eyes clouded, his fingers still touching her skin. She wondered if he knew how his touch made her feel. How her stomach dropped out whenever his fingers explored her body. How scared she was to let him go too far, even as she was curious. How terrified she was of her own yearning for his touch.

"Rory?" Tristan probed, his blank stare turning to concern.

Rory snapped out of her reverie. "We should go."

His thumbs grazed the waist of her jeans. "Is this bothering you?"

She shook her head even as she pushed his hands away. "This place gives me the creeps."

He looked at her a moment, as if deciding if he was going to believe her. When he stood up, a playful smile settled on his lips. "Okay, we'll get out of here, but first we have to stop at Charleston's office."

Rory felt relieved Tristan hadn't asked her too many questions. She knew he felt her uneasiness when he touched her and she thought he would call her on it. She didn't know how she would have reacted if he had pushed her to tell him why she was really nervous.

Then his words registered as she watched his figure exit the room. "Wait, what? Why are we stopping at Charleston's office?"

"There's something I have to do," he tossed over his shoulder nonchalantly.

"What?" When he didn't respond, she quickly followed him down the hall with new trepidation, lamenting she hadn't taken his offer for coffee when she had the chance. "Tristan?"