Chapter 21: Word Gets Around

"Hey T-man," a familiar voice greeted Tristan, first thing Monday morning. He gritted his teeth and was ready to tell Brett Thompson not to call him that but the other boy continued quickly. "I heard something interesting just now."

"Oh yeah?" Tristan feigned interest as he shoved a few books into his locker and jammed a pencil behind his ear.

"About you."

"Pray tell," he deadpanned, distracted by the amount of crumpled paper that had accumulated in his locker since the first day of school. I really need to get organized. He reached up to shut the door of his locker and stubbed his thumb against the hinges. He swore softly and then turned around, blinked and remembered that Brett was still there.

"You done, man?" the brunet asked amused. Brett leaned against the nearby locker and continued. "Anyway, I heard that you finally landed that Gilmore chick."

His eyes narrowed immediately. "Landed?"

"Yeah," he answered with a little chuckle. "I know you've been outta the game for quite some time but you do remember what that expression means, right? You and Rory Gilmore – getting it on."

"Where did you hear that?" Keeping his voice dangerously calm, Tristan took a step closer to Brett, who immediately straightened up and looked a little fearful.

"Well," he almost stuttered. "Word gets around. You know how it is at Chilton."

He sighed inwardly. He knew all too well how rumors spread through Chilton. He had started a couple of atrocious ones himself. Normally, he didn't mind the idle chatter and gossip that he generated when it came to dating. In fact, he would brag to his friends about which girl he'd felt up and he'd embellish the truth about whom he'd slept with and how it'd been.

But this time, it was different.

It was about her. It mattered.

"Brett, I need you to do me a favor," he said, quickly deciding on the best course of action. It was still early in the day and if the rumor had just started to spread, it could be stopped before she heard it.

"Sure, anything for the T-man," the other boy said, trying to dispel the tension.

"I need you to stop the rumor. I don't care how, I just need you to stop it."

Brett's brows drew together, as if he were trying to understand why Tristan needed him to do it but then he just nodded. "I could say that it was a lie. And that I talked to you and it never happened."

He nodded. "Perfect."

Brett patted him on the back and hurried away, probably looking for someone who had ways to get the new word about Tristan DuGrey around.

Relieved that he had avoided a potential landmine, Tristan grabbed the book he needed for his first period class and headed over to Rory's locker. Paris was the only one standing there, unloading her books in the neighboring locker. Smiling slightly at the sight of her fast and furious movements, Tristan approached her with a smirk.  "Hey there, Paris."

She looked at him through dangerously lowered lashes. "Not now, DuGrey."

"Bad morning?" he inquired and leaned against Rory's locker. "How's Jess?"

"You're a real riot this morning, Tristan. Really, you are. Tell me does Rory find that particular brand of humor amusing or annoying?" she spat at him.

"She finds it irresistible," he answered with a cocky grin.

Paris slammed her locker shut. "The girl is obviously deluded."

"Obviously," Tristan agreed gravely. Then he smiled at her delightfully when he saw a stack of notes in her hand. "Can I borrow your physics notes?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I'll never see them again."

"That's why you make copies, darling," he replied smoothly and plucked them out of her hand, ignoring her glare of protest. "Thank you, you're a lifesaver."

"And you're really getting on my nerves."

"It's all part of his charm," Rory provided as she approached them, looking tired and desperately in need of coffee. But she managed to smile at him brightly. "Hey you."

Even though he was grateful that she was late and would probably miss hearing about the rumor, he decided to play it cool and not give any passer-by fodder to put into the gossip mill again. When she lifted her face up for a kiss (he liked that it had become a natural reaction on her part) he simply brushed his lips against the corner of her mouth. He grinned when disdain darted briefly across her features.

"Well, I'd like to stay for Happy Hour but I need to get to class," Paris said sarcastically.

She left before either of them could utter a word but in her place, Madeline came flitting across the hall, waving two envelopes in her hand and then extending one to him and Rory. "Hey guys. Here ya go."

"What's this?" Rory asked brow arched.

"An invitation to my annual my-parents-are-away-so-let's-party party," Madeline informed them with a bright smile. "I have one every year. Well every year since freshman year. But I didn't have one last year…anyway, you two will come right?"

"Of course," Tristan offered and looked at Rory with a leering grin. "Your parties are always memorable."

He got the satisfaction of seeing her blush and meet his gaze with a small, half smile before she nodded in the black-haired girls' direction. "I'll be there."

"Great," Madeline said and scampered off.

"Can I get to my locker?" she asked immediately, turning to him. When he didn't move she rolled her eyes. "Tris-tan!"

God, he loved how she said his name. Not wanting to draw more attention to them, he stepped aside and let her unload. "How was your weekend?"

"Oh, you know," she replied with a little nervous giggle. "Good. Fine. Normal. Unlike you, I suppose. You on the other hand were so busy that you didn't even called."

"I had to spend time with Sean." He was glad that the locker door was hiding his face from her. Okay, so he wasn't telling her the whole truth. He had been avoiding her – he just wasn't sure how to act around her after that night on her bed in her grandparents' house. He wasn't sure what she was feeling. "I meant to call."

"I understand," she dismissed it with her hand and shut her locker. The bell rang, signaling that they were late. Her eyes widened. "Damn, this is the second time! I have to go. I'll see you later?"

"Of course," he called after her as she dashed away. A handful of students were milling around and he watched in boredom. He sighed, pushed off the locker and wandered to his first class, mentally preparing himself for the day ahead.

~*~ ~*~ ~*~

Okay this is getting weird, Rory thought as a blond girl that she didn't even know stared at her and them whispered something to her red-haired companion. It wasn't the first something like this had happened. All day, people were staring at her, whispering behind her and even calling her names that they thought she couldn't hear. At lunch, she sat alone until of course, Paris joined her to discuss something about The Franklin.

Frustrated and confused, Rory ducked into the girls' bathroom and was relieved to find it empty. She put her bag on the floor and then leaned over the sink, turned on tap and splashed some cold water onto her face. She grabbed a paper towel and dabbed her face dry before staring at her reflection in the mirror.

The weekend had been a tiring one for her. She had a constant feeling of restlessness, of unease and major frustration – of the sexual kind. She had never thought of sex and the repercussions of it more than she the past weekend. And to top it all off, Tristan hadn't called and when she called him, he was never there.

And now, she was apparently the topic of conversation in the Chilton gossip circle.

When she heard the door creak open, she grabbed her book bag and rushed into a stall at the end of the bathroom.

"It was a great movie," a girl with a high-pitched voice started to gush. "Josh Lucas's eyes are to die for."

"Blue and endless," a girl with a deeper voice agreed and Rory immediately recognized her as Summer. The girl's tone took on a wistful note. "Reminds me of a certain guy I used to date."

"Tristan DuGrey," two girls chorused knowingly, then burst into giggles causing Rory to roll her eyes.

"Speaking of whom," a third girl mentioned and Rory could imagine she was twirling her hair. "Did you hear what he told Brett Thompson?"

"Why is he even hanging around that loser?"

"That's so not the point."

"But Amy does have a point, Janet," Summer piped in. "He has seemed to developed an affinity for losers. He's ga-ga over Rory Gilmore."

"Bite me," Rory muttered softly from her place.

"That's the point," Janet stated impatiently. "Tristan told Brett that there is no…you know, sex. Apparently, Rory won't put out."

Rory's cheeks flushed in mortification as her heart plummeted to her stomach and her eyes widened.

"Interesting," Summer said. "I never understood what he saw in her anyway. This only proves what I knew all along. I know Tristan and he may think that there's something more to his attraction to Rory Gilmore but when it comes down to it – he's trying to get her into bed. He's only interested in her for one thing and once he realizes that she's a prude, he'll drop her like a hot potato."

The other girls voice their agreement and then, she heard the door open again and the three of them leave, talking about another movie, another guy.

Swallowing the lump that rose in her throat, Rory bit her bottom lip, collected her bag from the floor beside her feet and slung it over her shoulder. He wouldn't say something like that, she said to herself as she exited the stall. He's not like that. He would never just want to get me into bed…

Her memory chose that moment to remind her of all the evidence that pointed to it.

"What can I say? You're irresistible to me, Mary. Besides, I have a mission statement. I know what I want and I'm going for it. Tristan DuGrey always gets what he wants."

 "What do you want?"

"You."

Holding back tears, she left the bathroom and rushed to her locker, hoping to make it to her last period class without running into anybody who could make the situation worse.

The period couldn't finish soon enough for her.

While Mrs. Armstrong continued her long-winded speech on the wonders of Socrates' Oedipus, Rory stared at her copy of the work, mind wandering and heart hammering. Then, she noticed a slip of paper protruding from her notebook. She pulled it out and was greeted by Tristan's familiar handwriting – the lazy, careless scrawl.

Mary,

I'm cutting my last class and I knew I wouldn't see you until then so I slipped this note in your book during lunch. You were too engrossed with Paris to notice me. I'll see you tonight at 7. For homework. Or something like it.

That sounds convincing enough.

Tristan

When the bell finally rang, she quickly collected her notebooks, rushed out of the class, bypassed her locker and headed straight for the exit in hopes of catching the earliest bus back to Stars Hollow.

She needed her mother.