Author's Note: Hey, guys. As ever, thanks for the feedback. Uh, I'm trying out a little drama here. Tell me if it sucks, I can take it.
Part Three:
Rory would rather rip out her tongue than admit it, but she was a woman on a mission. Come hell or high water, she would find Tristan and find out exactly what he meant by that... that... *ludicrous* insult he'd tossed at her. She was NOT self-centered, she assured herself for the thousandth time that day.
Tristan was simply insane.
In fact, Rory pointed out to herself, dignifying his insult with a response was probably a waste of her valuable time. He was just a jerk, and his pathetic attempt to upset her had been absolutely, one-hundred-percent ineffective.
But she was keeping an eagle eye out for a tousled blonde head, just the same. He'd been in class, but somehow managed to avoid her during the breaks. Well, all that was about to change. Rory sliced through the hallways like a knife, marching past startled Chilton students without a glance. Where was the little-
Ah. There he was. Of course.
Tristan was back in traditional form. He was leaning gracefully against the hood of his glinting silver convertible, his Chilton blazer tossed haphazardly in the passenger seat. He had loosened his tie, and was directing the full force of his lazy smile at the pair of gorgeous blonde senior girls fawning all over him.
Well, thought Rory maliciously, she'd soon put a stop to that. "Hey, you jerk," she hissed, marching up to Tristan and poking him viciously in the chest. "I need to talk to you. Right now." Turning to the startled girls, she smiled tightly. "Could you excuse us, please?" She turned her back, unmistakably dismissing them. Her eyes narrowed as she heard their retreating footsteps, and she drew in a deep breath, intent on giving Tristan a healthy dressing-down-
Tristan just turned that lazy grin on her. "Why, Rory. I do believe you've just become a Chilton statistic. If I had a dollar for every girl who'd screamed 'hey, you jerk' at me...."
Rory closed her eyes in horror. Now everyone would think that she'd- best not to think of that now. "Shut up."
"Oh, and I see your vocabulary has improved over the summer!"
A pulsing headache was beginning to form. Rory frowned against the pressure, trying to focus on her objective. What was she going to do? Oh, yeah. Rip Tristan's head off. "Look, Tristan. What's wrong with you lately? And where the hell do you get off, calling me self-centered?"
Tristan's smile never faltered, but if Rory had been feeling better she might have noticed that it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Now, now, Rory, did I hurt your feelings? Naughty of me. I simply meant that you didn't seem to be particularly interested in... well, anyone other than yourself. Well, and your little friends back home on the farm."
"I beg your pardon?" Rory ground out.
"Did I confuse you? Well, let's review, shall we? Madeline and Louise tried to be your friends, in their own special half-witted way, and what did you do? Blew them off. Not quite brainy or virtuous enough for the genius Miss Gilmore, were they? And we all know how well your friendship with Paris worked out."
"That was YOUR fault," accused Rory. God, her head was really pounding now.
"Really?" Tristan's brow rose. "Why?"
"Because... because... you couldn't keep your fat mouth shut!"
"I just told the truth," he pointed out.
Rory opened her mouth. Then she shut it again. When he put it like that- no, she thought fiercely, it *was* his fault. It was just this awful headache, making her stupid....
"And then, of course, there's me," Tristan continued mercilessly, although something was flickering behind the careful blankness of his eyes. "You hate me, remember? But I deserved it, didn't I? Bugging you, acting like an idiot. Staring at you like a fool."
Rory's head hurt, hurt, hurt. Why did she feel like *she* should be apologizing? "Look, Tristan, I...." She'd forgotten why she came after him. "Uh, I don't feel so well. We'll continue this later, 'kay? I gotta... get home. Or something. I need to be... somewhere else." And grabbing her backpack with an unsteady hand, she turned and hurried off toward the bus stop.
Good, thought Tristan viciously. At least he'd flustered her, punctured her serene, indifferent bubble for just a moment. He took a deep breath, willing away the sharp pang of longing he still felt whenever he saw her- and then he saw Rory's retreating form lurch sharply to the side, causing her to stumble. "Shit," he hissed, realizing that what he had taken for nerves and temper was, in truth, illness. Heaving a sigh, he loped after her, catching up with her in relatively few strides and grabbing her arm.
"Hey," protested Rory, weakly pulling her arm free.
"You're sick," he announced briskly. "Do you need me to take you to the doctor?"
"No," she hissed. "It's just a migraine. I get them sometimes. I have medication at home. Go away, Tristan."
His eyelid dropped for just a moment. Then he shook himself, seeming to make up his mind. "I won't. Here, I'll give you a ride home."
"I don't need-"
"I'm faster than the damn bus, alright?" Tristan's voice was sharp. "It doesn't mean anything. It's just a ride home."
Rory closed her eyes. "Okay."
TBC
Part Three:
Rory would rather rip out her tongue than admit it, but she was a woman on a mission. Come hell or high water, she would find Tristan and find out exactly what he meant by that... that... *ludicrous* insult he'd tossed at her. She was NOT self-centered, she assured herself for the thousandth time that day.
Tristan was simply insane.
In fact, Rory pointed out to herself, dignifying his insult with a response was probably a waste of her valuable time. He was just a jerk, and his pathetic attempt to upset her had been absolutely, one-hundred-percent ineffective.
But she was keeping an eagle eye out for a tousled blonde head, just the same. He'd been in class, but somehow managed to avoid her during the breaks. Well, all that was about to change. Rory sliced through the hallways like a knife, marching past startled Chilton students without a glance. Where was the little-
Ah. There he was. Of course.
Tristan was back in traditional form. He was leaning gracefully against the hood of his glinting silver convertible, his Chilton blazer tossed haphazardly in the passenger seat. He had loosened his tie, and was directing the full force of his lazy smile at the pair of gorgeous blonde senior girls fawning all over him.
Well, thought Rory maliciously, she'd soon put a stop to that. "Hey, you jerk," she hissed, marching up to Tristan and poking him viciously in the chest. "I need to talk to you. Right now." Turning to the startled girls, she smiled tightly. "Could you excuse us, please?" She turned her back, unmistakably dismissing them. Her eyes narrowed as she heard their retreating footsteps, and she drew in a deep breath, intent on giving Tristan a healthy dressing-down-
Tristan just turned that lazy grin on her. "Why, Rory. I do believe you've just become a Chilton statistic. If I had a dollar for every girl who'd screamed 'hey, you jerk' at me...."
Rory closed her eyes in horror. Now everyone would think that she'd- best not to think of that now. "Shut up."
"Oh, and I see your vocabulary has improved over the summer!"
A pulsing headache was beginning to form. Rory frowned against the pressure, trying to focus on her objective. What was she going to do? Oh, yeah. Rip Tristan's head off. "Look, Tristan. What's wrong with you lately? And where the hell do you get off, calling me self-centered?"
Tristan's smile never faltered, but if Rory had been feeling better she might have noticed that it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Now, now, Rory, did I hurt your feelings? Naughty of me. I simply meant that you didn't seem to be particularly interested in... well, anyone other than yourself. Well, and your little friends back home on the farm."
"I beg your pardon?" Rory ground out.
"Did I confuse you? Well, let's review, shall we? Madeline and Louise tried to be your friends, in their own special half-witted way, and what did you do? Blew them off. Not quite brainy or virtuous enough for the genius Miss Gilmore, were they? And we all know how well your friendship with Paris worked out."
"That was YOUR fault," accused Rory. God, her head was really pounding now.
"Really?" Tristan's brow rose. "Why?"
"Because... because... you couldn't keep your fat mouth shut!"
"I just told the truth," he pointed out.
Rory opened her mouth. Then she shut it again. When he put it like that- no, she thought fiercely, it *was* his fault. It was just this awful headache, making her stupid....
"And then, of course, there's me," Tristan continued mercilessly, although something was flickering behind the careful blankness of his eyes. "You hate me, remember? But I deserved it, didn't I? Bugging you, acting like an idiot. Staring at you like a fool."
Rory's head hurt, hurt, hurt. Why did she feel like *she* should be apologizing? "Look, Tristan, I...." She'd forgotten why she came after him. "Uh, I don't feel so well. We'll continue this later, 'kay? I gotta... get home. Or something. I need to be... somewhere else." And grabbing her backpack with an unsteady hand, she turned and hurried off toward the bus stop.
Good, thought Tristan viciously. At least he'd flustered her, punctured her serene, indifferent bubble for just a moment. He took a deep breath, willing away the sharp pang of longing he still felt whenever he saw her- and then he saw Rory's retreating form lurch sharply to the side, causing her to stumble. "Shit," he hissed, realizing that what he had taken for nerves and temper was, in truth, illness. Heaving a sigh, he loped after her, catching up with her in relatively few strides and grabbing her arm.
"Hey," protested Rory, weakly pulling her arm free.
"You're sick," he announced briskly. "Do you need me to take you to the doctor?"
"No," she hissed. "It's just a migraine. I get them sometimes. I have medication at home. Go away, Tristan."
His eyelid dropped for just a moment. Then he shook himself, seeming to make up his mind. "I won't. Here, I'll give you a ride home."
"I don't need-"
"I'm faster than the damn bus, alright?" Tristan's voice was sharp. "It doesn't mean anything. It's just a ride home."
Rory closed her eyes. "Okay."
TBC