Author's Note: Thank you for all of your reviews. You've inspired me, so I'm trying to speed up with this puppy. Of course, I could hardly move slower....
Chapter Five
The next day dawned crisp, cool, and beautiful. Rory stepped off the bus and took a deep breath. Physically, she felt great. There were no after affects from her coffee misadventure yesterday, she had had a full night's sleep, and, miracle of miracles, she had woken up early enough to have breakfast at Luke's, rather than eating one of the week-old donuts that were lurking next to the toaster at home. She was half an hour early to school. All signs were pointing toward a damn nice day.
After one teensy-tiny little detour.
Rory scowled down at the thermos of coffee she was carrying. All she had to do was find him, offer a "thanks for the ride", smile, hand over the coffee, and walk away. It would take ninety seconds, tops. And then hightail it out of there. Any dim thoughts she might have had about friendship with a boy like Tristan were obviously the product of a Pop tart gone bad. There were two hundred students at Chilton. If she wanted friendships at school, she would just find less complicated ones. That would be the logical thing to do, and she was a logical girl.
Now, where was he?
She checked all of his usual haunts. His car was there, but he wasn't leaning against his locker, smirking as he held court. He wasn't smirking in the courtyard, smirking in the cafeteria, or smirking in the gym. So where the hell *was* he smirking?
She wasn't checking all the janitor's closets. Ew. Or the men's rooms. Double ew. If he was smirking in there, he could do so in peace.
Frustrated, Rory gave up. She'd see him in first period, anyway. That might even be better. She'd only have a split second to hand over the coffee and escape. She headed for the library, planning to put the twenty minutes before class to good use, her mind still on Tristan. It was weird. When you didn't want to see Tristan, he popped up everywhere. When you looked for him, he turned into Teen Phantom. It was a good thing she'd decided she didn't want to see him. For once, the bizarre Tristan-mojo was working in her favor. Congratulating herself on this stroke of luck, she stepped inside the library, and immediately spotted Tristan's tousled blonde head, seated with his back to her at one of the long library tables.
Bizarre-Tristan-mojo one, Rory zero.
****
Tristan was glaring at the book open in front of him. Why did he need to understand the cultural nuances of "War and Peace"? What good would it possibly do him? This wasn't like the infamous checkbook balancing math, this was just a waste of brain space. "I hate you," he told the fat little book. "You are very boring, and filled with confusingly titled Russian people."
"Just remember," said a cool, familiar voice from behind him, "Grand Dukes and Duchesses outrank Princes and Princesses. Uh, I think."
Tristan stood up so fast, he knocked over his chair. Luckily, he was no longer sitting in it. Unluckily, when both he and Rory stooped to pick it up, they crashed their heads together.
"Ow!" They scowled in unison.
"Here. You do it," Rory said, toeing the still up-ended chair with her saddle shoe, frowning down at it. Still rubbing his head, Tristan did so. He took an awfully long time straightening it out, too, avoiding her eyes. Watching him intently align the chair a precise half-inch from the table edge, Rory suddenly realized that he felt as awkward as she did. The thought was strangely cheering, lending her some sorely needed self-confidence. She could thank *this* Tristan. "Hey, I brought you coffee. To thank you. You know, for the ride home."
Slowly bringing his eyes up to hers, Tristan hesitantly took the thermos she held out to him. "It was no big deal," he told her. "But thanks for the coffee, anyway. Although I'm not sure how I feel about a beverage with the power to make me look like you did yesterday that isn't illegal for people under twenty-one." He frowned down at the thermos.
Rory's eyes lit up. "That's okay, I can drink it," she said, grabbing for the thermos.
"Ah-ah-ah." Tristan held the thermos high above his head. "I, at least, can be trusted with it." Rory's face fell, and he had to squash an un-Tristan-like urge to just hand her the coffee. In order to stop himself from doing anything stupid, he reached over and grabbed his book. "So, you probably aren't getting personal with your copy of "War and Peace", are you?"
Rory raised her eyebrows. "No, we're more like nodding acquaintances. You know, friendly, but nothing too intense."
Tristan rolled his eyes. "How can you stand it? All those characters. All those *titles*. How can you even remember who's who?"
"I made a chart," She explained, grinning. "It's on my bedroom wall- a character family tree. You should see it- I color-coded it, and there are stickers to indicate what the relationships are."
"Hey, that sounds amazing. Could I-" Suddenly realizing what was coming out of his mouth, Tristan snapped his mouth shut.
Rory looked at him curiously. "Could you what?"
"Nothing." Tristan began stuffing his things into his backpack. "We should go. We're gonna be late."
"We have ten minutes." Rory hesitated. "Could you *what*, Tristan?"
Tristan's shoulders slumped. He was just setting himself up for disappointment; he knew it. "I was just wondering if maybe I could see it sometime before we finish this unit. It's no big deal-" He broke off, looking uncomfortable.
Rory stared up at him, her mind whirling. He was being nice. Normal. Well, as normal as he got. The logical portion of her brain reminded her of all of the dozens of other, easier friendships she could be making, and she weighed those against the value of *his* friendship. Was Tristan worth trying to be friends with again? She took another look at him, tense and miserable and embarrassed, scowling down at Tolstoy's masterpiece.
Yes. Yes, he was. Damn it.
"Okay," she said. "How about tomorrow?"
Tristan jerked his head up, his blue eyes stunned. "Tomorrow?"
"Yeah." Rory managed a tiny, friendly grin. "You know, the day after today."
An indescribable emotion flickered over his face. "Oh. Okay. Um. That would be... nice."
TBC
Chapter Five
The next day dawned crisp, cool, and beautiful. Rory stepped off the bus and took a deep breath. Physically, she felt great. There were no after affects from her coffee misadventure yesterday, she had had a full night's sleep, and, miracle of miracles, she had woken up early enough to have breakfast at Luke's, rather than eating one of the week-old donuts that were lurking next to the toaster at home. She was half an hour early to school. All signs were pointing toward a damn nice day.
After one teensy-tiny little detour.
Rory scowled down at the thermos of coffee she was carrying. All she had to do was find him, offer a "thanks for the ride", smile, hand over the coffee, and walk away. It would take ninety seconds, tops. And then hightail it out of there. Any dim thoughts she might have had about friendship with a boy like Tristan were obviously the product of a Pop tart gone bad. There were two hundred students at Chilton. If she wanted friendships at school, she would just find less complicated ones. That would be the logical thing to do, and she was a logical girl.
Now, where was he?
She checked all of his usual haunts. His car was there, but he wasn't leaning against his locker, smirking as he held court. He wasn't smirking in the courtyard, smirking in the cafeteria, or smirking in the gym. So where the hell *was* he smirking?
She wasn't checking all the janitor's closets. Ew. Or the men's rooms. Double ew. If he was smirking in there, he could do so in peace.
Frustrated, Rory gave up. She'd see him in first period, anyway. That might even be better. She'd only have a split second to hand over the coffee and escape. She headed for the library, planning to put the twenty minutes before class to good use, her mind still on Tristan. It was weird. When you didn't want to see Tristan, he popped up everywhere. When you looked for him, he turned into Teen Phantom. It was a good thing she'd decided she didn't want to see him. For once, the bizarre Tristan-mojo was working in her favor. Congratulating herself on this stroke of luck, she stepped inside the library, and immediately spotted Tristan's tousled blonde head, seated with his back to her at one of the long library tables.
Bizarre-Tristan-mojo one, Rory zero.
****
Tristan was glaring at the book open in front of him. Why did he need to understand the cultural nuances of "War and Peace"? What good would it possibly do him? This wasn't like the infamous checkbook balancing math, this was just a waste of brain space. "I hate you," he told the fat little book. "You are very boring, and filled with confusingly titled Russian people."
"Just remember," said a cool, familiar voice from behind him, "Grand Dukes and Duchesses outrank Princes and Princesses. Uh, I think."
Tristan stood up so fast, he knocked over his chair. Luckily, he was no longer sitting in it. Unluckily, when both he and Rory stooped to pick it up, they crashed their heads together.
"Ow!" They scowled in unison.
"Here. You do it," Rory said, toeing the still up-ended chair with her saddle shoe, frowning down at it. Still rubbing his head, Tristan did so. He took an awfully long time straightening it out, too, avoiding her eyes. Watching him intently align the chair a precise half-inch from the table edge, Rory suddenly realized that he felt as awkward as she did. The thought was strangely cheering, lending her some sorely needed self-confidence. She could thank *this* Tristan. "Hey, I brought you coffee. To thank you. You know, for the ride home."
Slowly bringing his eyes up to hers, Tristan hesitantly took the thermos she held out to him. "It was no big deal," he told her. "But thanks for the coffee, anyway. Although I'm not sure how I feel about a beverage with the power to make me look like you did yesterday that isn't illegal for people under twenty-one." He frowned down at the thermos.
Rory's eyes lit up. "That's okay, I can drink it," she said, grabbing for the thermos.
"Ah-ah-ah." Tristan held the thermos high above his head. "I, at least, can be trusted with it." Rory's face fell, and he had to squash an un-Tristan-like urge to just hand her the coffee. In order to stop himself from doing anything stupid, he reached over and grabbed his book. "So, you probably aren't getting personal with your copy of "War and Peace", are you?"
Rory raised her eyebrows. "No, we're more like nodding acquaintances. You know, friendly, but nothing too intense."
Tristan rolled his eyes. "How can you stand it? All those characters. All those *titles*. How can you even remember who's who?"
"I made a chart," She explained, grinning. "It's on my bedroom wall- a character family tree. You should see it- I color-coded it, and there are stickers to indicate what the relationships are."
"Hey, that sounds amazing. Could I-" Suddenly realizing what was coming out of his mouth, Tristan snapped his mouth shut.
Rory looked at him curiously. "Could you what?"
"Nothing." Tristan began stuffing his things into his backpack. "We should go. We're gonna be late."
"We have ten minutes." Rory hesitated. "Could you *what*, Tristan?"
Tristan's shoulders slumped. He was just setting himself up for disappointment; he knew it. "I was just wondering if maybe I could see it sometime before we finish this unit. It's no big deal-" He broke off, looking uncomfortable.
Rory stared up at him, her mind whirling. He was being nice. Normal. Well, as normal as he got. The logical portion of her brain reminded her of all of the dozens of other, easier friendships she could be making, and she weighed those against the value of *his* friendship. Was Tristan worth trying to be friends with again? She took another look at him, tense and miserable and embarrassed, scowling down at Tolstoy's masterpiece.
Yes. Yes, he was. Damn it.
"Okay," she said. "How about tomorrow?"
Tristan jerked his head up, his blue eyes stunned. "Tomorrow?"
"Yeah." Rory managed a tiny, friendly grin. "You know, the day after today."
An indescribable emotion flickered over his face. "Oh. Okay. Um. That would be... nice."
TBC