Disclaimer: I don't own anything to do with Gilmore Girls, actors, characters, plots, etc, that would be the wonderful people at WB. Although if I did, I'm pretty sure there'd be some big changes coughChadcough. Anyway if you do feel inclined to sue me, some people have strange urges and we must accept them for who they are, I'm currently flat broke so all you will get is a used textbook, probably on organic chemistry.
AN: Thank you to my lovely reviewers:
Photoboothromance, rish, Bethany Inc, Ali, LoVe23, finnlover, Shannon, FairyGirl07, meg, GGluvr1987, roryjessfan02, ddani, LeoAngeldust.
Sorry for not responding individually, but I want to update quickly now that I have a chapter to post, but that's not to say I don't appreciate the time and effort you put into reading and reviewing.
Chapter 10Tristan was waiting for Rory, at her locker, his expression unreadable, his posture tense. Just seeing him there made her want to dawdle, stretch out the short walk down the hallway to her locker for as long as possible.
In the week or so since Rory's birthday party, Tristan's behaviour had become more erratic. He would come up to talk to her, open his mouth to speak before turning sharply on a heel and almost running away, leaving her staring confusedly in his wake. When Rory tried speaking to him, he would either ignore her or make up a lame excuse to leave.
All this confusing behaviour made Rory wary of Tristan and hence made her dawdle when she saw him waiting for her. Finally he looked straight at her, their eyes locking in an intense dual and she had no choice but to approach him.
"I've got to meet Dean," she announced.
Spinning the lock and banging the door open, she tried to be brisk as she shoved books into her bag. She message clear, 'Whatever you have to say, make it quick'.
"Why Paris?" Tristan demanded.
"Why not?" Rory shrugged.
She had no idea what her date-Paris condition was doing to him. His head was a mess, he kept waking up in cold sweats and his wearing the same shirt two days in a row!
"Why not any other girl?"
"Like I said, Paris likes you."
"So do a lot of other girls. I mean, what about Maya Richards, for example?" Tristan pointed out, nodding in the direction of the girl standing half-hidden behind a large indoor palm tree, staring at Tristan with a weird, almost obsessive expression.
"I don't want to be sued for mental scarring."
"You think Paris won't scar me mentally?"
"I wasn't talking about you," Rory frowned, closing her locker, "Maya's going to need years of therapy when she finds out you're not all 'that'."
"That's real funny," Tristan muttered sarcastically.
"I've really got to get going," she tapped her watch.
"Look, is there no other way around this?"
"Nope. You take Paris on a date and I'll forgive you for you're appalling behaviour at my party."
"What if I want to date someone else?" he knew he was whining, but he was getting desperate.
"Then date 'em. But until I hear from Paris about how wonderful the date was with you, I don't want anything to do with you."
"But – "
"I don't want to hear it."
--
"So let me get this straight, in order to get to the girl you want, you have to date someone who sees Mary as her main competition?" Jack asked, as they drove home.
"Yeah," Tristan sighed, dejectedly.
"Man, I'd say I'm real sorry for you, but I'm fresh out of sympathy," Jack sighed, "You used it all up last week."
"God, you really need to invest in bus ticket," Tristan scowled, "In fact, isn't you're birthday coming up? I'll buy you a ticket as a present."
"Aww, but I really wanted the new Matchbox cars," Jack whined playfully.
"Fine, a bus ticket and a Matchbox car," sighed Tristan.
Jack glanced at his brother in confusion, Tristan's face was dead serious.
"Uh, you know I'm kidding about the Matchbox car, right?" Jack asked, worriedly, "I mean, I really don't want a toy car. I'm turning fifteen, not five."
"Sure, sure," Tristan waved a hand dismissively.
For the rest on the drive, Jack was silent, furtively shooting glances at Tristan, anxious for any sign that his brother was joking.
"So, er, what are you going to do?" Jack asked, giving up trying to read Tristan's inscrutable expression.
"The Jamieson's are having a party Friday night," Tristan shrugged nonchalantly.
"You're going to take Paris Gellar to the Jamieson's party?" Jack stared incredulously at his brother.
"No," Tristan replied, pulling a face, "Do I look stupid!"
"Well, I – " Jack couldn't resist, but Tristan was quick to cut him off.
"Don't answer that!"
"Right, so the Jamieson's party?" Jack prompted.
"Yeah, I think I will go to it," Tristan nodded.
"Can I come too?" Jack asked, his expression hopeful.
"Maybe next year," Tristan responded vaguely.
"But you said that last year," Jack whined.
"And I'll say it again until you stop acting like a five year old," Tristan scolded his brother, "Maybe I will get you the Matchbox car."
"Oh man, how many times do I have to say I was kidding," Jack sighed.
Tristan stopped the car in outside their garage and Jack bolted into the house, missing Tristan's playful smirk, which would have assured him that his brother was just pulling his leg.
--
The Jamieson's party. Despite being renowned for its freely flowing beer and even looser girls, it was not the biggest party of the weekend, that honour went to Madeline. But Tristan's expected appearance at Madeline's party was exactly why he needed to attend the Jamieson's event the night before. He needed a date, an easy pick-up.
There was no way Tristan could go to Madeline's without a date, in the eyes of his fellow Chiltonites that was on par with end-of-the-world, but between Rory and the Paris-issue, Tristan didn't have time to find a date. So it was either resorting to flicking through the Chilton yearbook for a girl he hadn't dated get or picking up at the Jamieson's. Going by probable success rates, the later was the more feasible option.
--
AN: A short, filler chapter. I promise the next one will much longer and with more action.