Author's Note: Okay, like most everything I do, I wrote the first part of this at one in the morning and woke up the next morning with no idea of what do next. Damn insomnia. But, due to all those lovely, lovely reviews (Hi, Nes! *waves crazily*) inspiration did eventually return. So here ya go. Hope everyone likes it. I'm sorry to just dispose of Dean, but as everyone who's read my epic Roswell fic knows, I'm not an angst fan and, despite his wholesome cuteness, Dean is just too much of a drama queen.


Part the Second:

"So how'd it go, babe?"

In response, Rory ripped the paper coffee cup from her mother's surprised hands and slugged it back like it was whiskey. "Hit me again," she gasped, crumpling the now-empty cup in one hand.

"Oooohkay." Let it never be said that Lorelai Gilmore had failed to meet her daughter's basic needs. The tires of the SUV spun on the gravel of the Chilton parking lot as she gunned it for the nearest restaurant that served both coffee and ice cream. A remarkably short three and a half minutes later, they were swinging their feet on the stools of Ben's Café and stalking the slow-moving waitress with their eyes.

"Come to us," Lorelai whispered compellingly, her eyes never leaving the waitress. "Take our order."

Rory tried to mentally summon ice cream. She visualized it, happily melting in a little bowl in front of her-

"And what would y'all like today?"

"Now," Lorelai announced when their food had been placed in front of them, "I have fed you, nurtured you, offered the comfort of my maternal bosom. Whatever. So spill."

Rory looked grimmer than ever. "Paris spent the whole day looking at me like I was the kind of person that tapped on the glass at the zoo, Tristan has suddenly become the Ice Queen, and the rest of Chilton continues to be blithely unaware of my existence. In addition, I have three essays, one short story, and two quizzes in my immediate future. All in all, my life is not looking up."

Wordlessly, Lorelai pushed her dish of ice cream toward her.

Rory's day didn't improve. The Gilmore household ran out of toothpaste, so she was forced to go to the market and endure the soulful stare of her ex-boyfriend from behind the baked beans on aisle six. Her romance with Dean had, sadly, fizzled by mid-July. The first few weeks were blissful, but it soon became apparent that Dean was one of the dreaded "But I thought we were gonna see it *together*" type of guys. It only took a few short weeks for Rory to discover that she did not, in fact, enjoy having a Dean-shaped shadow and politely break things off with him. He took the break-up about as well as could be expected- that is, their interaction had dwindled into impersonal pleasantries on Rory's part and longing, heartfelt stares on his. Rory found these exchanges excruciatingly embarrassing, and avoided Dean and the market whenever possible. But when a girl ran out of toothpaste, a trip to the only store in town was unavoidable. Rory escaped as soon as possible, but the irritating memory of Dean's dark-eyed stare of anguish just served to make her bad mood even worse.

School didn't help either. As the week progressed, Paris continued to attempt to skewer Rory with the force of her unique mega-glare and Tristan continued his campaign of icy civility. By Thursday, Rory was ready to scream. With the exception of teachers calling her name at roll call and the bizarre introduction situation with Tristan, no one had addressed a single word to her. She didn't expect her fellow students to elect her homecoming queen, Rory thought waspishly, but since when was she invisible? To add to her stress, Chilton teachers always began the year with a generous batch of homework to "refresh" their students.

Rory was dragging herself toward her locker after her last class when she was presented with a familiar and strangely welcome sight- Tristan's broad-shouldered form leaning against her locker. Rory's mood took a sudden upswing. Finally, finally something was back to normal! Cheered by the unexpected return to the status quo, Rory immediately fell back into comfortable pattern. Her "Move your pampered butt off my locker, DuGrey," came out almost perky.

"Huh?" Tristan's equally intelligent reply was cut off as soon as he saw who was speaking. "Oh," he continued in a much more formal tone, "Excuse me." And he moved away, leaning on the neighboring locker while he scribbled a note.

*Excuse* me?

EXCUSE ME? Since when, Rory fumed, did Tristan Dugrey, King of the Innuendo, beg her pardon? What was his problem?! Where did he get off, ignoring her all week and then... then... saying 'excuse me'?! "What the hell is your problem?" she blurted out.

Tristan's hand stilled on the paper, but he didn't look up. "Nothing. I moved, didn't I? Lay off, Rory."

Rory reeled. Rory? Since when did he call her Rory? "What, you're addressing me by name now? Since when?"

Tristan still refused to meet her eyes. Turning, he stuffed the note into the locker two doors down. "Since now. Look, I'm busy."

"Hey! What- I mean, why are you ignoring me? Are you, uh, mad at me?" For some strange reason that Rory didn't care to investigate too closely, Tristan's brush-off hurt.

That did it. Tristan's eyes snapped up. "Am I mad at you? What kind of question is that? What's your problem, Rory? We aren't friends, remember? And you're sure as hell not my girlfriend. So why should I talk to you?"

"But... but... but I thought you liked me. I thought we were friends." Rory said weakly. "...well, sort of. Uh, more or less."

"Christ," Tristan growled. "Look, I am not doing this again. Have you always been this self-centered? How come I'm just now noticing it?" Without waiting for an answer, he stomped off down the hallway.

Rory gaped after him like a landed fish. "I am *not* self-centered!" she finally yelled after him, much to the enjoyment of the few students still lingering in the halls.

But Tristan had already rounded the corner.


TBC