A/N- How long has it been? A while. It's funny, when I used to just read fanfiction I would always be like 'how hard is it to update? how could they leave it for so long?' but now I understand, especially since I'm such a perfectionist. I've actually been writing this chapter since January, when I planned out the next five but sometimes the inspiration hits and sometimes it doesn't. Anyway, I just want to reassure any frustrated readers that this story will be finished (eventually!) Also, a quick reminder that season 5 takes place in 2005 for anyone wanting some context.

— that A/N is from about 8 months ago, this chapter has been stuck at 6000 words for such an age, I'm so sorry.

Chapter 10- The Article

'Doyle, can I go now?' Rory asked, exasperated.

She'd been in the newsroom for over two hours, listening to Doyle give her advice on how to write one of the year's most important articles. She was beginning to wonder if he regretted giving it to her or something, as he obviously thought she would not be a competent enough writer for the article. Or maybe he was realising how impossible the task he was requesting would turn out to be. But she humoured him, because it was the headlining piece for the annual political special.

'Are you listening?' he asked sarcastically. His arms were crossed in frustration, and Rory wondered how long he'd been standing like that. She'd zoned out a good ten minutes ago.

She sighed. 'Yes, Doyle. I'm listening.' Her patience was wearing thin.

'The piece is part of our political issue, Iraq: Two Years On, and you're doing the portion on the lives of the soldiers. Find some quotes, interview some people, you know how it is. Got it?'

Grabbing her bag, she got up hurriedly to leave. 'Got it.' she replied, and speed-walked out of the room before he could ask, say, or instruct anything else.

She was tired, frustrated, and in desperate need of coffee, but most of all, had no idea where she was going to find someone to interview for this. It wasn't like she could even do a phone interview, since the interviewee would be in Iraq. Where would she even get a phone number?

Taking deep breaths in an attempt to calm herself down, she fumbled with the lock on the door to her suite until it finally gave in. She made her way over to the kitchenette and had just started making a pot of coffee when she heard a breath right behind her. 'God, Paris!' she exclaimed. 'You have got to stop doing that!'

Paris completely ignored her response. 'What did Doyle say?' she began, her face completely serious.

Rory sighed. She did not have the energy to deal with Paris just then. 'He was just explaining the article he wants me to do. It's supposedly the headline.' She watched as Paris narrowed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest. 'Paris, we can trade if you want. I don't mind. I'll do whatever article you're doing.' she offered, hoping Paris would stop the death glare she was giving her.

She looked sceptical. 'That explanation took two hours? I don't think so. Doyle is my boyfriend. Don't you forget it.'

If there was one thing Rory had learnt in the last five years, it was that arguing with Paris would not be worth the amount of energy it required. 'Yeah, I know.' she conceded.

'What's your piece on anyway? Mine is supposed to focus on how world diplomatic relations have been altered since the invasion, since, you know, I am really much better when it comes to that kind of stuff.' Paris replied, silently accepting that she'd been a little crazy to think Rory would ever go after Doyle through her usual way of moving the conversation along.

'I'm looking at what life is like for the soldiers on the ground. Conditions, morale, all of it. The only thing is that Doyle wants interviews, and I have no idea how to get that to happen. The Yale Daily News is just a college paper.' As she heard herself talk Rory could tell that she already sounded defeated, although, if anything it reflected how she felt.

Paris had sat down on the couch and was making herself comfortable, flicking through the tv channels. 'You know,' she said casually, 'you could always ask Tristan.'

'Huh?' She frowned. What did he have to do with anything? 'Military school does not mean he was in the army.' she replied, a little annoyed that Paris was wasting her time. Besides, she knew there had to be some ulterior motive. Paris never just mentioned things.

And as quickly as it had disappeared, Paris' glare returned. 'I meant his internship. He was in Iraq for a while, he might be able to tell you something.'

She paused, and Rory wondered if she was done.

'And I was just trying to make your life easier. Sorry, I'll remember not to next time.' she finished angrily.

Now she would have to apologise. Sometimes Paris and her mood swings was a little too much to deal with. 'No, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I just didn't understand, that's all.'

Paris huffed. 'I don't care. Ask Tristan, don't ask Tristan. Doesn't affect me.' She wouldn't even look at Rory, instead keeping her eyes trained on the tv since she still hadn't found something to watch.

Assuming that Paris had ended the conversation, Rory went into her room and closed the door behind her. She flung her bag on the chair and laid down on her bed, and sighed as she sunk into the mattress. It had been a long day. It didn't help that the newspaper assignment was completely stressing her out.

She dug her phone out of her pocket and began to look for Tristan's name in the directory, deciding that she may as well see if he could help her, but realised she didn't have his number. That was odd, considering she thought by now they would call themselves friends. Did he have her number? Something told her that he did, although she couldn't imagine how. Obviously they hadn't traded them.

Pushing the phone back in her pocket, she forced herself to get back up off the bed and made her way to Steph's dorm, hoping to get Tristan's phone number from her. Impatiently, she knocked at the door, but there was no answer and she knew Steph never locked it, so she turned the handle herself and went inside. As usual, the place was a mess, clothes strewn all over the common room. Chuckling, Rory wondered what Steph's roommate thought of it. 'Steph…' she called, but there was no answer. Just as she turned to leave, the sound of running water caught her attention. Steph was probably in the shower.

She thought for a moment. Sure, she could come back later, but it was Friday night and chances were that Steph was going out, and she really needed to get in touch with Tristan. Besides, it wasn't like she hadn't seen Steph naked, after all, they had shared a room when they were skiing. Deciding that it wouldn't be a big deal, Rory gently eased open the door of the bathroom. It was so steamy that she could barely see. She opened her mouth to tell Steph that she was there when her eyes focussed on the figure in the shower, causing her mouth to snap shut. It wasn't Steph, that was for sure. For starters, Steph wasn't that tall. Also, Steph wasn't a guy.

He had his back to her. Her first instinct was to look away, to back out of the room as silently as she'd entered, but it was like something had possessed her. She couldn't move. She couldn't even think, couldn't question why there was a guy in Steph's shower or who he was. All she could do was stare at the man in front of her. The bottom half of his body was obscured by the steam on the glass but she could see his whole torso. He had his arms raised above his head as he stood under the shower head and she could see each of his well-defined muscles jump as the hot water hit them. He ran his tan arms through his hair, making it change to a darker blonde as it got wetter. Her eyes fell on the necklace that sat around his neck, his only identifying feature, a string of brown beads that for some reason seemed familiar. She knew she'd seen it before.

She continued to stare at the necklace and the back of his head, desperately trying to remember who those beads belonged to when suddenly, she realised she was no longer looking at blonde hair. Instead, her eyes were resting on the tanned skin of his collar bone. Inhaling sharply, her eyes flashed up to meet his azure blue ones. They danced as he stared back at her, an eyebrow raised as if to ask if she liked what she saw. And in truth, she did. She knew she wasn't hiding that very well. A smirk crept to his lips.

Of course. It had to be Tristan. She could feel herself blushing uncontrollably and she blinked, trying to make herself look down. But still, she couldn't. She held his gaze, biting her lip while he looked at her. He raised his hand slowly and beckoned her towards him. She tried to shake her head but instead found herself taking a step towards him. His smirk grew bigger. 'Come on,' he mouthed, his breath steaming up the glass of the shower even more.

Her eyes widened in response. She was torn. Part of her, the sane part of her, wanted to retreat from the bathroom as quickly as possible. But the other part of her, the part she barely recognised, had her hands working at the top button of her shirt. What was she doing? Her eyes were trained on Tristan's, but he had broken his gaze and was watching her fumble with her buttons. It seemed to her that the colour of his eyes had changed from aquamarine to a deep and darker blue. She could feel her whole body quivering as she moved onto the next button, under his eyes. She had lost all control. Yet, as heard Tristan's breathing become shallower, she had a feeling she wasn't the only one.

She had three buttons left when she heard the front door slam. 'Tris, I'm back!' came Steph's perky voice. Suddenly, Tristan had looked up and made eye contact again. But while she was panicking, he looked infinitely calm. In fact, he looked downright pleased.

'Well, Mary.' he murmured. 'I guess you'll just have to hide in here.' Somehow his smirk had infiltrated his tone. He opened the door slightly and reached out his hand, which caused water to stream down his arm and form a puddle on the floor. Chills spread down her own arms as she tentatively placed her hand in his. She couldn't pull back, only look at her hand, so daintily sitting in his palm, their fingers beginning to intertwine. Slowly, she raised her eyes to meet his again. Somehow, they were twinkling yet filled with lust at the same time. He knew exactly what he was doing.

Time seemed to stop as she stood there, lost in his eyes while his fingers moulded around hers. She became aware of the sensation of water running down her own arm, the sleeve of her shirt getting wet and sticking to her. And suddenly, she felt herself return to the real world. She jerked her hand away from Tristan's and stepped back, trying to ignore whatever flashed across his eyes. Quickly, she redid the buttons of her shirt that she had managed to undo, conscious that Tristan had turned around so that his back was once again facing her. She couldn't see his face.

'I'll wait for you outside, um… I need you to do something for me.' she mumbled, backing towards the door. She thought she heard him mutter something in response, but chose to pretend she hadn't and quietly twisted the doorknob. She hoped that Steph was in her bedroom. Peeking through the crack between the door and the frame, she made sure that nobody was in the common room, and stepped out of the bathroom, making sure to close the door behind her. She bit her lip and tiptoed out of the suite, softly opening and shutting the main door.

Once outside, she took a deep breath. What had just happened? What had she done? Since when did she become this person? She wasn't the kind of girl to get even contemplate getting in the shower with some guy! What had happened to her usual, easily embarrassed self? If she had been in her sane mind, she would've just left, probably rambling a shameful apology, her face beet red and her eyes averted. But instead, she had almost gotten in with him! Trying to calm herself down, she began to walk down the hall back to her own dorm when she remembered she hadn't got what she came for, and she'd told Tristan she'd wait for him. Hoping nobody had seen her exit, she turned on her heel and went back to Steph's dorm and knocked loudly on the door. Steph answered at once.

'Hey Rory! What are you doing here?' she asked, smiling and pulling Rory inside. 'Do you want some coffee?'

Rory smiled, trying to make herself feel more at ease. 'Would I ever say no to coffee?' she joked, albeit a little nervously. She couldn't help it, knowing that Tristan was just behind bathroom door. The shower wasn't running anymore.

Steph tipped the grounds into the paper and switched on the machine. 'I have had the worst day,' she began. 'My Russian Lit teacher hates me and is refusing to give me an extension on this essay. I mean, we only had a week to write it and I just didn't have time! I tried to explain that to him, but…'

Rory tuned her out, waiting patiently for her to finish. Sometimes, you just had to let Steph get these rants out of her system. She made herself comfortable on one of the stools at the counter. Somehow she was still hyperaware of the sounds coming from the bathroom; water running in the sink, a towel being shaken.

Steph's voice broke her concentration. 'So anyway, long story short, I'm going on a date with my lit teacher's son. He's thirty!' she exclaimed, causing Rory to burst into giggles at the sudden insanity of the statement, especially since she hadn't been listening to the lead up. Steph looked at her indignantly. 'It's not funny!'

Calming down, Rory went over to the cabinet and got out two mugs. 'I know. Your life sucks.' she consoled. 'But I spent two and a half hours one-on-one with Doyle today, so I think I win.'

Steph pretended to ponder the thought for a moment. 'Yeah, I think you do.' She poured coffee in the two cups. 'So, do you need anything or did you just come over to say hi?'

Rory swallowed her coffee. 'Yeah, actually. I was wondering if you knew where Tristan was. I need his help with something.' Originally, she had just planned on asking for his phone number but now that she knew he was here, she felt some inexplicable urge to ask him then and there.

Who was she kidding? The fact that she had almost just gotten in the shower with him definitely had something to do with it. She could feel herself going red as she remembered what had happened just moments before; her hand in his, her top almost completely unbuttoned, the feeling of being unable to escape his gaze.

'Rory!' Steph shouted, snapping her fingers in front of Rory's face. 'I said, he's in the shower. His is broken and apparently my bathroom is less of a tip than Logan's, although I'm not sure how' she frowned. 'He'll be right out' she continued, looking at Rory inquisitively. 'Are you alright?'

'Yeah, I'm fine. Just feeling a little spacey, that's all.' she assured her, hoping that she sounded convincing enough. Her embarrassment was bad enough without Steph knowing about it.

Steph looked a little disbelieving. 'Okay… hey, speak of the devil!' she said, smiling at something behind Rory.

Rory turned around, expecting to see Tristan fully dressed but instead was confronted with him standing directly behind her in nothing but the towel she had seen hanging on the bar next to the shower. It hung low on his hips, which did nothing for the red tint that had already appeared on her face. 'Mary, fancy meeting you here.' he said suggestively. She knew he wouldn't pull anything in front of Steph, but she noticed his eyes had not yet returned to their usual colour.

She sighed uneasily. 'Yeah, um… I was looking for you, actually. But I wasn't expecting find you here.'

That was true. There was no way she could've guessed that Tristan would be the one in the shower.

He caught on to her meaning. 'Nice surprise, all the same.'

Rory marvelled at his talent to make any words sound dirty. Usually, she would've thought of something witty to say back to him, to put him in his place, but her mind was blank. 'Okay, well, I have this assignment for the paper on the lives of the soldiers who are in Iraq, and I know you did your internship there so I thought maybe you'd have the numbers of friends you made who I could interview. Or I could interview you, or you could just help me with research…' she trailed off, realising she'd been rambling.

That was definitely not what he'd been expecting to hear. He looked a little confused. 'That's a pretty big assignment for a college paper.' he said, frowning. He didn't say anything else.

'Come on, Trissy! You'll help her, won't you?' Steph interjected in a baby voice, obviously trying to break the tension that had been building since Tristan had appeared.

He smiled gratefully. 'Of course. Should I come over tomorrow and we can work on it?'

She was going to Stars Hollow this weekend. 'I'm seeing my mom tomorrow. What about tonight?'

'I can't tonight.' he replied.

She was perfectly willing to accept that simple explanation, but Steph wasn't so sure. She narrowed her eyes. 'What are you doing?'

He sighed. 'I've got a date.' He kept his eyes on Steph, not on her.

'Oh, that's fine.' Rory said, trying to mask her disappointment. She should've expected him to have a date. Besides, it had absolutely no effect on her whatsoever. She didn't like him.

Apparently she hadn't hidden her feelings that well, as Tristan relaxed and began to plan an alternative. 'How about I come to your house on Sunday? We can work on your article and I'll drive us back afterwards.' Rory opened her mouth to protest, after all, it was a long drive for him to make when they could just meet next week, but he saw what she was about to say and started again. 'Honestly, it's not a problem. I'm sure we'll have a great time' he reassured her, but there was something in his tone that made her think he was looking forward to it for slightly different reasons.

She gave in willingly. 'If you're sure… it's the blue house on the road that's comes off the one by the left corner of the square. Actually, think of it as the one diagonal to the left if you're standing in front of Luke's. Or—'

'I'll figure it out.' Tristan interrupted, smiling. 'So, I need to change….'

'And I'm going out!' Steph added.

'Oh, sure, I'm leaving.' Rory replied, a little embarrassed that she'd been there for so long, holding up both Tristan's and Steph's evening plans. It didn't help that she had had to force herself to look away from Tristan's washboard abs the whole time.

He smirked. 'Don't be sad, Mary. You know any other time I would want you to stay.' He called out as she and Steph picked up their bags and walked out of the suite. He was joking in his usual way, yet his words somehow seemed completely serious to Rory and it took all her power to stop herself from turning back to look at him.

'Lock the door behind you! Keys are on the counter.' Steph called behind her as they left.

As soon as the door had shut, Tristan breathed a sigh of relief. Finally, she was gone and he could get himself back under control. Her teasing hand in his had been everything short of pure torture mixed with delight and he was amazed that he had been able to resist the urge to rip her shirt off himself and pull her into the shower with him. He knew she'd wanted him, he could tell by the way she had been shivering even though the bathroom was so steamy it was basically a sauna.

But he couldn't let himself want her. Not because he had to be chivalrous, not because he'd promised Paris he would leave her alone. Definitely not because her feelings were so delicate that he didn't trust himself with them, because he knew that wasn't true. Rory was one of the strongest people he knew. She had to be in order to deal with Logan for that long (he remembered that he still needed to apologise to him for beating him up). It was because it had taken him over a year to get over her in high school, yet they had only kissed once, and she didn't even like it. Once he had a taste of her he'd want more, and that was dangerous. If military school had taught him one thing it was that vulnerability was a handicap, and he wasn't sure that he'd be able to handle whatever would inevitably happen between them.

So Rory was off limits, for his own sake.

Even if he had desperately wanted her to stay.

It was 2.32. Tristan would be there any second, and Rory was frantically attempting to clean up the constant mess that was the Gilmore household. All the magazines from the coffee table had been shoved under the couch as she tried to clear a possible space for them to work in, and for once the kitchen counters were free of all Lorelai's various gizmos. Rory even found herself tidying her bedroom, although she didn't know why. Under no circumstances would Tristan DuGrey be making an appearance in there.

Why had she agreed to this? After the encounter in the shower yesterday, unbearable awkwardness was inevitable and she wasn't sure how she'd be able to cope. She was straightening her quilt for the third time when she heard a knock at the door. Rushing through the living room, she took one last glance around the house and realised that despite her desperate attempts to create a useable workspace, the couch was still a disaster zone. They'd have to work somewhere else.

Taking a deep breath, she quickly tucked her hair behind her ear and thanked god that Lorelai wasn't home. She'd get a field day out of this. Hoping she looked calmer than she felt, she opened the door.

'Hi Tristan,' she said, trying to force a smile.

He raised an eyebrow. 'That was quick. Waiting by the door?' he remarked, his usual smirk plastered on his face, his hands jammed in his jean pockets.

She exaggerated rolling her eyes, relieved that Tristan was acting normal, even if his normal self was infuriating. 'Yeah, right.' She paused, unable to think of a better comeback, but slowly came to realise he was waiting for her to continue. 'Oh, sorry! Come in.'

Turning around, she led him into her living room, making a mental note of how he responded to the clutter and hoping it wasn't too bad to the untrained eye. She watched as he surveyed the room. 'I tried to clean up… but I think we'll just have to work in my room, if that's okay.' she said tentatively, hoping he wasn't picking up on how uncomfortable she was.

'Mary!' he said, surprised. 'Already trying to get me into your room? Well I never…' he trailed off suggestively, but followed as she made her way to the bedroom, and made himself comfortable on the bed as Rory quickly threw some dirty clothes into her closet.

Once she'd gotten the closet doors to stay shut, she turned to face him and was surprised to see him laying across the whole bed, instead of just sitting at one end. He looked so at home, his arms crossed over his chest and his back propped up on her pillows. She noticed he'd left a space for her to sit next to him, and she could feel her cheeks warming up at the prospect of being so close to him. Suddenly, he didn't look like the 20 year old man he was but instead he could've been sixteen, like he was when they met. She could almost picture him in his Chilton uniform, his shirt untucked and his tie loose.

'You alright?' he asked gently, but his eyes sparkled. She must have been staring, and he knew exactly why.

Flustered, she replied 'Yeah, uh, I'm just gonna go get my laptop. I'll be right back' and she all but ran out of the room.

As soon as she'd turned the corner into the living room, she breathed a deep sigh of relief. What was happening to her? She was just embarrassing herself, and Tristan knew it. His smirk was probably growing wider by the second as he imagined just how affected she was. But how was he not feeling the same? Surely what happened in Steph's bathroom had the same effect on him as it did on her.

It dawned on her that her laptop was sitting on her desk in her bedroom. She sighed. Of course, Tristan had probably noticed that. She figured she'd better go back in before he could use her prolonged break as evidence for her obvious attraction to him, since that was definitely what it was. There was no use denying it. But there was no way Rory would be letting that grow into anything more. She'd dated one playboy, and was not going to move on to the only guy she knew that had a worse reputation than Logan.

She made her way back to the bedroom, but stopped at the doorframe. Tristan was standing in front of her dresser, examining the items on top. His blonde head was bowed as he focussed on the item in his right hand, his left resting on the drawer he had opened. Frowning, she attempted to see what it was. She could make out a brown cord hanging by his wrist, but nothing else. She could feel herself slowing her breathing so he wouldn't hear her.

She watched as he turned the object over and suddenly she saw what it was. Dean's bracelet. Her eyes widened involuntarily as she watched him examine it. Of course he remembered it, and of course he knew what it was. More importantly, who it was from. There was no way he couldn't, considering how much he used to make fun of her for wearing the bracelet that 'bagboy' gave her.

Her heart sunk as she remembered all that she had said to Tristan, all because of Dean. And he looked so young, standing there, that she couldn't help but position herself four years ago. He could've been here if she'd accepted those PJ Harvey tickets, and even though she'd apologised and she knew he was over it, after all, it had been so long ago, she still felt bad, because with her, he was always going to compare himself to Dean, the boy she'd chosen over him.

Looking back, she couldn't even remember why she hated him to the extent she did, and especially now that they were friends again, she regretted refusing to give him any chances back then. She'd missed out on so much.

Suddenly, he dropped the bracelet back in the drawer and closed it again. Rory jumped back behind the corner so he wouldn't see her, but peeked around the edge, taking note of how he carefully selected a book from her shelf. He was reading the back when she decided to go back in.

'What're you looking at?' she enquired cheerfully, praying he didn't think anything of the fact she'd just come from behind the wall.

He scanned the huge expanse of books in front of him. 'Just admiring your collection. I knew you were a reader but this is beyond what I imagined.' he said quietly.

She smiled. 'There's more.' she said, and pulled out a few of her drawers to reveal even more books.

Tristan sat back down on the bed. Rory looked at him confused, but he just stared back. His eyes were so deep, she could feel him looking through her and trying to decipher what she was feeling. She watched as he swallowed, and wondered if he was nervous. He was doing a good job of covering it up. Finally, he cleared his throat. 'So, should we get started?'

Relieved, she nodded. Tristan patted the bed next to him, where she noticed he'd positioned her laptop. Embarrassed, she didn't argue about sitting so close to him and instead just sat down. Trying to ignore the heat radiating from his thigh that was right next to hers, she opened the computer up and pulled up a page on the origins of the Iraq war.

He scanned the page curiously, wondering how much Rory already knew.

She inhaled nervously. 'So, Paris mentioned something about an internship in Iraq? I don't know if you'll be able to help me, but anything you can tell me about life there would be really helpful. Doyle's really stressed about this article and he's taking it out on me.'

Tristan smiled reassuringly. 'That's why I came. Have you done any research yet?'

Sighing, she replied. 'I haven't had time, I hope that's okay. Well, actually I really just need an interview from you and I can do the research later. I know you're busy— I don't want to keep you here for too long.'

'No, it's fine. I have nothing to do, so lets start researching now, then you can interview me. Oh, and I talked to my friend Will who's in Iraq now and we need to call him at 4 for a phone interview.' he mentioned casually.

Rory beamed. 'You did that?! That's great!' Suddenly, she felt herself hugging him. What was she doing? Luckily, he didn't seem to be too startled and she felt him briefly hug her back. Nestled so close to his neck she could smell his cologne mixed with the faint scent of shaving cream, and she felt her eyelids flutter shut. It felt too soon when Tristan released her, but she hoped he hadn't noticed her reluctance to let go. 'Okay, there's some books in the living room. You go get them, I'll make us some coffee.'

'Alright Mary. Whatever you say.' she heard him reply as she made her way out of the room.

Four hours later and they were sitting on opposite ends of Rory's bed, books spread out between them. They'd been working solidly since their coffee, only taking a break for the phone call with Will, Rory typing up notes and Tristan scribbling down his on a notepad, and her concentration was beginning to falter. It was funny— his handwriting hadn't changed since high school, his letters still a slanting scrawl.

The whole situation was so reminiscent of those days; it had been years since she'd studied at home on her bed. It was almost like they were doing a group project together. Her mind wandered to their version of Romeo and Juliet. Of course they were the ill-fated couple. He'd matured so much since then, she thought as she slyly surveyed the figure sitting across from her.

She hadn't wanted to admit it then, but he'd always been attractive. And now, with his T-shirt clinging to the muscles of his shoulders she couldn't help but remember what he'd looked like in the shower, without any shirt at all. His hair was as spiky as ever. There was something so surreal about him being in her childhood room, this boy who would've done anything to be alone in there with her, yet she'd invited him in herself.

She blinked and focussed her eyes on one of the books, the words blurring together on the page. Suddenly, he swept all of the books off the bed, and held his hand out for her to place hers in. She did so, keeping her eyes on him the whole time. Uncrossing her legs, she positioned herself so she was straddling him and she could feel everything through the fabric of his jeans. He closed his eyes and breathed in the sweet scent of her perfume. 'God, Mary. You don't know how long I've wanted this.' he mumbled, before sliding a hand around the back of her neck and pulling her close. Their lips connected and at once they fell into rhythm with each other, no time for teasing first. His other hand slid up her shirt as the kiss became more passionate, and while her own hands made their way up his chest to his shoulders. She could feel the heat rising in her stomach as she moved on top of him, wanting him to move faster…

She became aware of Tristan's voice in the silence. 'Do you wanna finish up for today? I don't know about you but I can't focus on the work anymore.'

Understatement of the year, she thought to herself, and squirmed so that she was sitting on top of her foot. 'Yeah. I'm starving, let's go get something to eat.' she replied, knowing she'd flushed bright red at Real Tristan's interruption of her daydream.

Clambering up from the pile of books, Rory grabbed her bag from the floor headed outside after Tristan. His car was parked in the driveway but it was different from the dark blue convertible she'd ridden in before. This car was altogether more classy, a black mercedes four door. Tristan, always the gentleman, was standing by the passenger side waiting for Rory to get in. She did so with a smile and a 'thank you sir.'

He laughed a little. 'You're welcome, milady.' he joked back, before closing the door and getting in on his own side. 'Where are we headed?'

She shrugged. 'I don't know, what are you in the mood for?'

Tristan smiled mischievously. 'There's this Italian place in New Haven that I think you'll love.'

'But I've got to come back here, and I don't want you to drive me all the way home and then have to go back again.' she protested, although she wasn't sure why. She loved Italian food.

'I'm staying in Hartford.' he said, smiling, but his eyes revealed his inner conflict.

Rory knew he didn't get on well with his parents. She made a note to ask him why he was staying there later and instead happily agreed to the plan, turning up the radio as Tristan reversed out of the driveway. Impatiently, she twisted the knob to the next station but it was just another DJ talking. She sighed and twisted again and again until she felt Tristan's hand on hers. She looked up at him sharply.

'What are you doing?' he asked, laughing.

She would've laughed back with him but his palm was still spread over her fingers, his other arm placed lazily on the steering wheel. Instead she just stared at him for a moment. His eyes weren't on the road; he looked straight back at her.

'I was looking for the station we heard last time' she replied, her voice a breathy whisper. She could feel him beginning to wind his fingers inbetween hers, and she couldn't help but break eye contact to watch his hands work so delicately. She noticed his gaze had focussed there too, and at once they both looked up again at each other.

His face broke out into a smile. Rory shook her head, smiling too. Gradually she became aware of something in her peripheral vision, through the wind screen.

Her eyes widened. 'Tristan! Brake!' she exclaimed. She'd forgotten how fast he drove, and as time had slowed they'd been gaining on the car in front of them.

'Shit!' he cursed and slammed on the brakes, causing them both to be thrown back into their seats, before gradually relaxing as he steadied their speed. Breathing deeply, Rory looked over at him and found he had done the same, and they both immediately broke into a fit of giggles.

'Tristan!' Rory exclaimed through her laughs, 'This isn't funny! We so could've died!'

Tears were coming from his eyes, he was laughing so hard, yet he still managed to reply 'But we're still alive, aren't we, Mary?'

She raised her eyebrows. 'That may be, but I am never letting you drive me anywhere again. I have absolutely zero faith in your driving' she teased.

'Something tells me that you'd let me drive you anywhere' he teased back

Rory looked over at him, but his eyes were trained on the road this time. He was smiling to himself, a look that was so genuine it caused her to shake her head in disbelief. She could feel him turn to look at her as he registered the little sigh she made, and felt him take in her own secret smile. 'You're so cute' he said, almost at a whisper, as if he was surprised by it.

Yet she knew exactly how he felt. He wasn't surprised at her cuteness, more astounded by the foreign feeling that had suddenly appeared inside him, like it had in her. A rising warmth in her chest, so pure that it felt like it was pouring out.

She recognised this feeling like she was meeting an old friend after a long time. She hadn't felt it since Jess, and even then it had been fleeting. She knew she should've felt some degree of panic, since whatever was going on between her and Tristan had obviously surpassed simple attraction, yet the purity of it was somehow reassuring.

Glancing up at Tristan, she noticed a look of utter contentment on his face, and it slowly dawned on her that she was probably making the same expression.

And for the first time, she wondered it maybe Tristan DuGrey could be more than a friend.

A/N- this chapter was supposed to have a bit more plot in it, but I just decided to finish it up here and publish it to satisfy you guys a little. Life's crazy, but I have planned out the next few chapters so it will eventually get finished.