Rory was still staring at the pictures from Jess's article when Tristan returned from his run.
"Are you okay?" he asked, still panting a little.
"Yeah," Rory replied absently.
"Well, we're supposed to be leaving in about 10 minutes, and your assistant has been moving your clothes in for the last half an hour."
Her head popped up, and she made eye contact with him. "Micah's here?"
"Apparently. Amanda showed him where to put your clothes. Seriously Rory, what's going on, are you okay?" he asked again.
She thrust her phone at him. "I got a copy of Jess's article. Here. You should read it." Once the phone was safely in his hands, she left the room.
He took her seat and began to read. When he got to the end of the article, he was surprised at how real Jess managed to portray them. If he wasn't living the charade, he would believe every word Jess wrote. It came across as honest, there were enough jabs in there so it didn't sound like a promo piece for a friend, and Tristan thought the addition of Jess's own life experiences gave it credibility. He only wished Jess had added the bit about Atlantic City being Paris's idea... but then again he probably didn't want to deal with a pissed off Paris.
Tristan clicked on the second file and began to scroll through the pictures that had been chosen for the article. Again he and Rory looked real. For the most part Tristan no longer dressed to impress. The press paid absolutely no attention to him unless he was at a big event that would require being dressed up, or he royally screwed up, and in those cases, he didn't care what he looked like. But he couldn't think of a time he'd ever seen Rory looking anything less than press ready in a picture. She was never caught in public on laundry day, or caught doing something that shouldn't appear on film. Yet somehow, in these pictures, she looked amazing to him. Twenty times better than in any press photo he'd seen of her.
The last photo came up, and Tristan enlarged the center of the frame so he could get a closer look at it. Rory was leaning into him like he was her rock. How come he didn't notice that when the pictures were taken? And how come he didn't remember cradling her face? If this picture didn't convince the world they were in love, then nothing would. Hell Tristan was almost convinced they were in love, and he knew the absolute truth.
He closed the window and set the phone on the table before heading back for another quick shower.
HOMH-HOMH-HOMH
Rory stuck her head into her 'closet' and found Micah stacking the last of the wardrobe boxes against the wall.
"It's a good thing you have an extra bedroom as your closet, I'm pretty sure all of your clothes won't fit in one closet. In fact, I have no clue how they all fit in your old closet!" Micah exclaimed.
She blushed slightly at being called out on her excesses. "I really should donate some of this stuff," she admitted wistfully. "But part of me is hoping that some day I'll be able to wear something a second time!"
Micah laughed. "So where's your husband?"
"Getting ready for our outing."
"Where are you heading?" he asked curiously. Being partly responsible for her PR, he knew how the Star article looked.
Rory hummed for a moment, trying to remember. "The pier, I think."
He thought about that for a moment before responding. "That's probably a good place, it won't look like you're trying to hide from anyone there."
They were awkwardly silent for a moment or two, before Rory finally spoke. "So, how do I know what's in each box?"
"I took stuff out of your closet in chunks, box one starts closest to the door. I also tried to write on the outside of the box what's in it."
Given that her closet was super organized, it wouldn't be too hard for her to find almost anything. "Great, thanks." She had another moment of awkward silence as she tried to figure out a way to dismiss him. "So... I need to change," she finally blurted out.
Micah turned slightly pink, and glanced down at his shoes. "Right, right. Sorry. I'll go then."
"I want you to meet Tristan, so just go down stairs, don't leave yet!" she said quickly as he darted for the door. "Maybe Amanda will give you coffee and a muffin... she made chocolate chip this morning."
He nodded and left the room. As soon as the door closed, Rory closed her eyes and tried to picture her old closet. It was organized by item then by color. So shirts were first from tank tops to long sleeved shirts, and then from light to dark within each type. She opened the second box, and found the light blue short-sleeved shirt she was looking for. She scanned down the row of boxes to find the first one labeled skirts. She was looking for a shorter dark blue skirt. There were only two boxes labeled 'skirts' and she didn't have many long skirts, so it was probably in the second box. She opened the box and flipped through a few skirts before finding the dark blue printed skirt she was looking for. She quickly changed into the outfit she'd chosen, now all she needed was shoes. She glanced around the room but didn't see any shoe boxes. She opened the closet, but found that nothing in there had changed.
Rory stuck her head out of the bedroom door and called down the stairs, "Micah, where are my shoes?"
"Sorry Miss Gilmore, some of them are down here in the living room, the rest are still in the van."
"That's okay!" She grabbed the ballet flats she'd been wearing frequently and padded down the stairs.
HOMH-HOMH-HOMH
"Tristan! Hurry up!" Rory yelled.
"I'm coming!" he hollered back as he shut the bedroom door behind himself. "I brought your phone."
"Oh yeah, I forgot I'd left that with you. Hurry up and come meet Micah."
He moved slowly down the stairs on purpose, just to watch Rory get annoyed with him. He came to the bottom of the stairs, then crossed the room to where everyone was standing. Micah was not what he expected. He expected some meek shrimpy guy, not a dark haired version of himself with an extra two inches and an extra 50 pounds. Micah was not someone to get on the bad side of.
"Tristan, this is Micah."
"Hello," Micah said quietly. For such a big guy, he had a very small voice. Tristan wondered if he was gay.
"Nice to meet you," he said as he stuck his hand out to shake.
Micah nodded and shook his hand. "You too."
"Okay, so we're off!" Rory said quickly not wanting to drag the meeting out any longer, or delay their outing. She just wanted to get it over with.
"Amanda, can you make lasagna for dinner?" Tristan asked as Rory pulled him out the door.
"Sure..." she called after him.
"What's the rush?" Tristan asked as Rory climbed into the passengers seat.
She shrugged. "No rush. Just want to get out of the house is all."
He snapped his seat belt in place then started the car, waiting for it to warm up. "Why?"
"Why not?" she asked in an aggravated tone.
"Okay, we're not going anywhere until you tell me what's going on," Tristan said, trying to put his foot down.
"Ha!" she burst out, then sat in silence.
"I mean it, what's going on?"
She thought about it for a moment, trying to decide whether she should answer him. "How about, I'll tell you if you start driving."
He put the car in reverse and backed out of the garage.
He'd hardly pulled on to the street before he asked her again what was going on.
"What do you think it is?" she asked, trying to lob the ball into his court.
He sighed. "Obviously this has something to do with Jess's article," he started. "But I thought it was well written, I don't see why you're so bothered by it. You knew it was coming."
She huffed from her seat and stared out the window for a moment. "I didn't expect him to all out fabricate things."
Tristan shrugged. "The whole thing is an all out lie."
"I know!" she yelled. "But I didn't expect him to make up quotes."
"What did he make up?" Tristan asked.
"Honestly, I don't give a shit about my reputation. If I wasn't madly in love with this woman, you couldn't have paid me to step into the media circus that is her life," she quoted to remind him.
"He didn't make that up."
"WHAT?!" Rory yelled. "How did I miss that?"
"Okay, he didn't make it up entirely. You were in the bathroom when it happened."
"Tell me more. Now!" she said firmly.
"Don't get mad," he started. "I just didn't like the insinuations that Lane was making. I told him I wouldn't have stepped into the media circus if I didn't respect you."
"But you don't respect me! You hate me."
He snorted. "They don't know that."
"You could have just left it alone. Jess wouldn't have printed anything that made either of us look bad!"
Tristan shrugged and continued as though she hadn't spoken. "So that's what's bothering you."
"What's not to bother me? My life is a joke," she said sullenly.
"Where's that famous can do Gilmore attitude?" he asked as he reached over and nudged her arm. "Huh?"
A small smile broke out of the frown that was dangerously close to becoming a permanent fixture on her face. "Gilmores don't have can do attitudes, we medicate with junk food."
"Well then I guess the pier is the right place for me to take you today."
"How come you aren't upset by all of this. Jess makes you look like you care about me. Doesn't that bother you?"
Tristan sighed and drove in silence for a few minutes, trying to formulate an answer that wouldn't further upset Rory. Finally he decided to just go with the truth, reaction be dammed. "It makes me look good. I can't be upset by that."
She huffed indignantly. "All you really care about is your image isn't it? Jess is okay because he makes you look good, but heaven forbid that Lane make an insinuation that just happens to be truthful! Can't you just be honest? You really are a better actor than anyone gives you credit for."
"Rory, you really don't want me to "just be honest" in this situation," he reminded her.
"Just leave me alone."
They drove in silence for a few miles before he tried again. "Rory?"
"I meant it when I said to leave me alone," she said emotionlessly.
He started to speak again, but she cut him. "Look, it's my life that's a total joke. I'd just appreciate it if you wouldn't try to make it worse." She spoke to the window, not even bothering to glance in his direction.
Instead of trying again, he just kept driving.
HOMH-HOMH-HOMH
Rory watched the miles pass and tried to calm herself down. She was the one selfishly insisting Tristan stay married to her just to avoid a little — okay, a lot of — bad press. Why was she so angry that he wanted to get as much as possible out of the situation? She found herself unusually perplexed. Normally she understood her own inner workings. She closed her eyes and focused on her breathing. She needed to get her mood under control before they got to the pier.
"Rory," Tristan started quietly, "we're here."
She opened her eyes to find herself in the valet line in a parking lot. The press caravan that had been camped outside of their house had followed them all the way to the pier. She smiled at Tristan and let the valet help her out of the car.
As soon as Tristan was out of the car, he was at her side with an arm around her shoulder. She plastered on a blissfully happy smile and let him lead her into the pier.
"So, about earlier," he started.
She shook off his attempt and changed the subject. "What do you want to do first? Do you like rides?"
He sighed through his own happy smile. "Really?" She nodded and he continued, "How about shopping first?"
They strolled around the stalls for about an hour, occasionally, one of them would stop and look at something. Mostly they were followed by the press, so they smiled and laughed a lot. Rory signed a few autographs, and they posed for a few pictures.
It seemed like the further they got from the entrance, the more people just left them alone. That was how they found themselves in a vinyl shop. Tristan walked the store with purpose, and Rory merely trailed behind him. When he finally stopped at a rack, she picked the row next to him and began to flip through albums.
"So, what are you looking for?" she asked.
He lifted a shoulder in a half shrug. "I'm not sure. It's one of those things, I'll know it when I see it."
"Oh, okay." She could understand that. She flipped through albums trying to get a feeling for the kind of music that Tristan liked. She was surrounded by old stuff. Standards, jazz and the blues. She picked up an Ella Fitzgerald album and began scanning the track listings. "Do you like Ella Fitzgerald?"
He glanced up from his stack and saw the album in her hand. "Yeah. That's a good album, I have it at home."
She put it back down and resumed flipping through sleeves.
'Stop!" he called out.
She paused and looked over at him. "What?"
"Go back!" She flipped backwards a few albums, and he reached out and snatched an album from her pile.
"I've been looking for this for ages!" he exclaimed as he slid the vinyl out of it's sleeve to check the condition.
"Oh. Cool," she said uncertainly. "Why don't you just download the album? You could get from Amazon or iTunes in heartbeat."
Tristan smiled. It was a smile she hadn't seen in a long time. It was Chad Michaels' 'I know something you don't know' smile. "The sound quality is so much... better... on vinyl."
"Really?" she asked skeptically.
He nodded. "It's not really better, I guess. A cd is typically more crisp, but there's something more authentic about listening to music like this in the format it was meant to be heard. All of the crackles and pops of the studio and the equipment."
She took in this new information and smiled. "Neat."
"I'll show you when we get home. I'll get one of these tracks from iTunes and then play it right after you hear the record."
He carried the BB King album to the counter and waited for the cashier to ring him up.
"Are you hungry?" Tristan asked as he tucked the parcel under one arm leaving the other free to tuck Rory under.
Rory shrugged. She'd been dying for some good old fashioned comfort eating, but a public place was typically a bad place for an actress to indulge in that sport. "I could go for a corn dog."
"Anything else?"
She really wanted to say funnel cake, or cotton candy, or deep fried Twinkies, but she held her tongue. "That's it for now."
They wove their way through the crowds to some storage lockers so they could stow their purchases while they ate and enjoyed the rides, then found the nearest hotdog stand.
"So just one corn dog?" Tristan asked to confirm before ordering.
"How many are you having?" Rory asked innocently.
"One."
"Okay, just one for me."
Tristan stepped up to the counter and ordered three corn dogs, handed the woman working the register a twenty and wandered down to the other end of the counter to wait for his order to be up. Rory followed behind him, holding on to his purchase.
It wasn't more than a minute before a man in an apron came out from the back and dropped three corn dogs in front of him. "Condiments are over there," he said as he pointed across the way to a free standing bar littered in napkins and splattered in ketchup and mustard.
"Thanks." He took the tray of corn dogs, each of them in their own wrappers, and made his way over to the condiment cart with Rory on his heels.
"How come there are there three?" she asked.
Tristan shrugged, "I thought an extra might not be a bad idea, in case one of us is hungrier than we thought."
"Okay."
He handed her a corn dog and picked one up himself. "So what do you put on these?"
"Whatever you like," she said as she expertly added both ketchup and mustard to hers.
"What if I don't know what I like?" he asked.
She looked up from her corn dog to find him watching her. "You're the one that suggested corn dogs! Haven't you had one before?" He shrugged. "Wow, and I thought I was sheltered," she said with a small smile. "So what do you like on your hotdogs?"
"Ketchup, relish and onions," he said confidently. She looked at the condiment table, there was no relish or onions to be found.
"How about you just have ketchup then? Or maybe put a little puddle of mustard on the side and you can dip it."
"Okay, and what about the third one?" he asked as he put puddles of ketchup and mustard on the tray so he could dip into either or both of them.
Rory watched as he created the puddles. "Just make bigger puddles and who ever eats the third one can dip."
They found a small table and sat down to eat. Since Tristan needed to dip, walking and eating wasn't an option.
"This is better than I expected," Tristan admitted after his third bite.
Rory merely smiled, because her mouth was full. She had inhaled her corn dog and was eyeing the third one, wondering if there was any way she'd be able to eat it. She glanced around to find that for the first time all day, there weren't a bunch of eyes on them. They'd been left to eat their lunch just like any other couple.
"Wanna share the third one?" he asked after he swallowed the last bite.
"Sure," she said hoping she didn't sound too eager.
He picked up the stick and dipped the dog in ketchup and took the first bite. Then he dipped it in both the ketchup and the mustard and offered the next bite to Rory.
She gave him a menacing glare as she took the offered bite, silently warning him not to do something stupid like shove the thing down her throat.
"You really don't trust me, do you?" he asked in a low voice, as he took the corn dog back and took another bite himself.
This time it was Rory's turn to shrug. "Like you keep pointing out to me, I don't know you." She tried to keep the bitterness from her voice, but she didn't think she was successful. "The Tristan I did know would have no problem jamming a corn dog down my throat."
He offered Rory the stick with the last bite of corn dog on it. "Here, it's all yours."
She polished off the last bite and stood up to throw the container in the trash. "What should we do next?"
"Do you still want to go on rides?" he asked as he threw his wadded up napkin into the trash.
She thought about it for a second. "Maybe not so soon after eating." She thought she saw a momentary glimpse of relief flash across Tristan's eyes.
"How about some games?"
"What kind of games?" Rory asked hesitantly.
He smiled. "You know, Make a Basket Win a Prize, sort of stuff."
Rory shook her head. "I'm not good at sports."
"These aren't sports, they're games," Tristan reminded her.
"Is there a ball involved?"
"Well, yeah."
"Then in the Gilmore book, it's a sport. Besides, I don't want the world to know I can't shoot a basket or what ever it is."
"How about Ski-Ball then?" Tristan suggested.
Rory sighed, "uh, it has BALL right in the name!"
Tristan laughed, and for some reason that made her just want to kick him. "You're playing against the machine. You get tickets in the end to buy a prize. Even if you do badly, you'll still get some tickets."
She squeezed her eyes closed for a moment then opened them again. "Fine. But no making fun of me if I suck at this." She stuck out her hand to shake his.
"No making fun," he repeated shaking her hand to seal the agreement. He glanced around the area looking for the Ski-Ball machines. When he found them he grabbed her hand and pulled her towards them, stopping at a change machine to get a bucket full of quarters. "That's another $10 on the tab," he said with a grin.
She stuck her tongue out at him, but continued to follow him to the machines.
He found two empty machines together and put the bucket of coins in between them for easy access. "Okay, the game is simple. It's like bowling. You just take the little ball and roll it up the ramp trying to get it into the various holes. You can see that each hole is worth a different amount of points. The harder the goal, the higher the points. Got it?"
Rory nodded uncertainly.
Tristan took a couple of quarters from the cup and dropped them into the machine making the lights light up and the balls drop down into the chute. "Ready?"
She picked up the ball and tossed it at the ramp. It hit the ramp and bounced back at her, causing her to jump out of the way, and Tristan to hiss with laughed. "I told you I wasn't good at this!"
"Sorry," he said quickly as he stifled his laughter. "I told you this was like bowling, do you throw a bowling ball like that?"
"I haven't been bowling since I was 6. I dropped the ball on Jess's foot and we had to cut the party short to go to the emergency room." She looked down at her feet as she made this admission, and waited for Tristan to erupt with laughter. After a minute of silence she looked up to find him staring at her. He had a small smirk on his face, but other than that, there were no signs that he found her childhood misfortune humorous.
Tristan picked up the ball that was on the ground and handed it Rory. "I'll show you how to do this," he said as he stepped behind her. "Show me how you hold the ball."
She held up the ball in the palm of her hand, and let him adjust her grip.
"Now you roll it up the ramp." She put the ball on the edge of the ramp and rolled it towards the holes. However, given the force of her roll it only made it part way up the ramp and started to roll back towards her.
"Do you want me to demonstrate?" he asked, showing a surprising amount of patience.
"Sure," Rory told him. She was surprised that he was willing to teach her. Logan would have pulled her into a hug and told her how cute it was that she couldn't do what ever it was, then moved on to the next thing. She expected Tristan to be similar, except slightly more condescending. Instead she watched as he stepped up to retrieved the ball that had rolled back down the ramp, and then made sure she was watching him as he took his stance and rolled the ball up the ramp with just enough force that it landed in one of the 30 point holes.
"Do you want to watch again or are you ready to try?" he asked. She couldn't sense and sarcasm coming from. It seemed like he truly wanted her to learn how to play Ski-Ball.
"It looks simple enough," she told him as she picked up the next ball and got ready to try again. Tristan leaned against the machine to watch her. She pulled back her arm, then stopped, fearful that she'd drop the ball at the wrong time again. "How about you guide me?"
He smiled and pushed himself off the machine. "Sure." He moved to stand behind her and guide her arm like he were showing her how to swing a golf club or a baseball bat. He took her right wrist in his hand and began to pull it back. "Hold on to the ball until I say to let it go, okay?"
Rory nodded eagerly. He pulled her arm back about 45 degrees, then started to push it forward. "Now!" She released the ball on the upswing and they both watched it roll up the ramp and pop up into the 10 point ring.
"Yes!" Rory exclaimed with an excited fist pump.
"Wanna do another practice one?" he asked.
"Yeah."
They practiced in the same manner with the remaining 4 balls, and Rory finally started to figure out when to release the ball and how hard it needed to be thrown, the last ball even landed in the 40 hole. When the last ball was swallowed, the machine began to spit out tickets.
Rory eagerly gathered the tickets. "What do we do with these?"
Tristan laughed. "There's like six of them. I bet you could maybe buy a Tootsie Roll with those."
"Oh." Her face fell. "This is just the first thing I've ever won."
"How about we play a few more games and try to get some more tickets?" he suggested.
Realizing that her excitement was maybe a bit over the top, she tried to sound nonchalant as she answered, "Sure."
HOMH-HOMH-HOMH
He couldn't believe it, she'd never won anything before? This girl that had more money than anyone person could spend in three lifetimes was excited over winning a few paper tickets.
"Can we both play? Or do you want me to continue to help you?" he asked.
She thought about it a moment before answering. "We can both play, as long as it's not a competition."
"Okay," he agreed with a grin.
They spent the next 30 minutes playing Ski-Ball in relative silence. Mainly the noise was Rory cheering for herself when she managed to get the ball in any hole that wasn't the 10 point U. The tickets were just collecting at the base of the machines. Admittedly Tristan was paying more attention to Rory's game than his own. When she said she didn't play sports, she meant it. For an actress, she was surprisingly clumsy. He didn't remember that from their time on Molly's World. But then again, he didn't remember a lot from his time on Molly's World.
"What's wrong?" she asked. She must have noticed he'd stopped playing.
"Nothing," he answered quickly. "I just thought I'd save some quarters for Whack-A-Mole."
"They have Whack-A-Mole?" she asked excitedly.
"They should. Every place like this does. Wait, how do you know Whack-A-Mole and not Ski-Ball?"
"Lane sent me the app for my iPhone when Logan and I broke up. She thought it would be cathartic."
Tristan tipped his head back and let out a huge laugh. "That's priceless!" he exclaimed. "We are definitely going to play Whack-A-Mole. Can I pretend that my moles are Logan too?"
Rory gave him a dirty look. "Who says Logan's the mole now? Maybe it's you," she said saucily.
"Me? Nah," he shrugged it off. "I brought you here. Admit it, you're having fun today."
She smiled. "I am."
"Then you can't pretend the moles are me."
"Fine, today the moles won't be you," she conceded. "But lets go find them!"
He stooped to collect their pile of tickets as Rory looked around for the Whack-A-Mole stands. "Looks like you can afford more than just one Tootsie Roll now." He glanced up when she didn't respond and noticed she was 30 feet away, in a crowd of people, headed towards the game. He grabbed the bucket of coins and jogged over to where she was, not wanting to leave her alone for some reason.
After about twenty minutes of Whack-A-Mole, the cup of coins was empty, and Rory looked tired. She was attacking those moles for all she was worth, taking some serious aggression out on them.
"Do you want me to get more money to keep playing?" he asked.
She didn't answer right away, and he was sure she was going to want to play some more. "No, it's okay. Now can we go on rides?"
"Do you want to spend your tickets first?" He held up a stack of tickets showing her how many they'd accrued.
She grinned, "yeah!"
He found a nearby ticket counter and fed their tickets into it. "134 tickets," he told her as the receipt printed. "Let's go shopping!"
Rory giggled, but linked her arm through his and followed him to the ticket redemption counter.
He rolled his eyes as he took in the display case full of cheesy prizes. Most of the things in their "price range" were either candy or plastic.
"Can I help you?" the guy manning the ticket counter asked as he shuffled over to where they were.
"Is there anything you want?" Rory asked, as though they were actually shopping.
"Whatever you want Sweetheart," he said, playing the doting husband part.
"Hrm..." He could hear her hum, and almost see the mental math going in her brain as she spent the tickets. "How about two of those," she pointed to the rubber cause bracelets advertising the pier.
"Color?"
"Blue," she answered confidently. "Then... two mini snickers, and 7 Tootsie Rolls, fruit punch flavored."
The guy behind the counter gathered her 'purchases' and handed her a small brown paper sack. "Here you go Miss Gilmore," he said with a blush.
"Thank you," she said politely.
"Can I get an autograph?" he asked as Tristan started to pull her away.
She smiled, "Of course. Tristan wait a second." He rolled his eyes as his wife stopped sign an autograph. He watched, slightly annoyed, as the man's innocent facade moved into more a lecherous stare.
He stepped back towards the counter to drape a proprietary arm around Rory, lowering his head to her shoulder to nuzzle her neck and whisper in her ear. "I don't like the way this guy is looking at you."
She giggled to cover her annoyance, finished signing the autograph, picked up their bag of prizes and walked away with Tristan still nuzzled into her neck. "He's not the first one to look at me like that," she said quietly.
"And I'm sure I can't be the first one that's been bothered by it," he replied equally quietly.
Rory shrugged. "Actually... I think you are."
Tristan was so stunned he actually stopped moving forward.
"What?"
"Are you serious?" he asked incredulously.
"About what?"
"Logan never had a problem with guys looking at you like that?"
She sighed, "If he did, he never mentioned it."
He shook his head.
"Come on, let's go on the ferris wheel," Rory said after an uncomfortable moment of silence. She grabbed his arm and began pulling him towards the ride.
He let her drag him for a few steps, then started walking on his own. They'd have plenty of time to talk about this later. He couldn't believe Logan wasn't bothered by strange men drooling on Rory.
When they got to the ferris wheel, Tristan paid for some tickets, and gave the ride operator a dirty look as he tried to cop a feel when checking the fastenings on the straps that held them in place.
They sat in silence in the bucket as it edged away from the ground one stop at a time to let more people in. It was half way up when Rory finally spoke. "Why do you care if some guy stares at me or tries to cop a feel?"
"You're my wife! I'm standing right next to you! It's rude!" he exclaimed.
"Huh," she said. "So it'd be okay if I acted like you just did when skanky girls try to get your attention and have you autograph their boobs?"
Tristan laughed. "Of course!"
"Huh."
The wheels started to turn in Tristan's head. "Wait... did Logan..."
Rory held up her hand to stop him, "Not gonna talk about it. It doesn't matter anymore."
"Can I punch him next time we see him?" he asked seriously.
She sighed. "Why do you even care? It's not like you even like me," she reminded him in a low voice.
"First, Logan was supposed to love you, not just like you. Second, regardless of whether I like you or not, when we're together in public as a couple, you at least deserve my respect. And letting skanks shove their boobs in my face is not respectful of my relationship with you."
"Good to know," she said, then focused her gaze out on the bay.
Tristan put his arm along the back of the seat, and let it drape over Rory's shoulder. After a minute or so, he tapped her shoulder. "Any chance we can make out up here?" He raised an eyebrow at her to get her to crack a smile and lighten the mood.
She snuggled into him, to keep up the happily married image. "Not a chance."
He chuckled and let himself get lost in his own thoughts.
"Hey Tristan."
"Yeah Rory?"
"Why aren't we moving?"
"They're letting more people on," he reminded her.
"They've been letting more people into one bucket for the last 10 minutes?" she said suspiciously.
He looked over his side of the bucket, and she looked over her side, to find that there were people swarming around the base of the ride as well as the operator's stand.
"I think we're stuck."
AN: Yes, it's been a while. Yes I'm very sorry. New job is keeping me super busy. But I did a little bit of beta work today on a Gilmore Girls story, and it helped my muse find its way back, if only for a little bit. Hopefully Rory and Tristan won't be stuck at the top of the ferris wheel for too long.
Reviews inspire the muse, so please read and review! (Even if you hated it, I want hear about it!)
Thanks for reading.
S