Disclaimer: You know the deal. Not mine, not associated, blah, blah blah
Part Three
Rory finally finished revising her packing list for the 4th time that morning. She had read the invitation so quickly the first time, she failed to notice that this day included an overnight stay. The University wanted each student to experience the true college life, so they had arranged for each invitee to spend the night in a dorm room with a college freshman. Rory wasn't too thrilled with this idea, frankly, because the idea of dorm living didn't appeal to her at all. Sharing a room with someone who could be your mortal enemy was not something she looked forward to.
She shoved the list into her backpack and stood to board the arriving bus, and in that moment, she saw him. From her stance at the bus stop, she had a clear view of him crossing the street. In the weeks since their breakup, they had barely spoken to each other. They exchanged the usual pleasantries, but not in a friendly manner. It was as if they were simply acquaintances who couldn't be bothered to engage in actual conversation. It was difficult for Rory to grasp, that this boy who once told her he loved her, now couldn't look her in the eye.
What little information Rory knew about Dean's life, came from her daily updates with Lane. In exchange for daily updates on Henry, Rory learned little tidbits of Dean's life. She wasn't quite sure if these updates were helping or hindering the "getting over" process. She knew that Dean had not dated since their breakup. She hardly expected that he would. He wasn't the type of guy that easily got over someone. Especially someone he thought he loved. She knew at some point, he was going to move on. And in a way, she was looking forward to being over him. She just hoped it would happen soon.
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Tristan pulled into his usual parking spot in the student lot that Friday morning. It was finally here. Tomorrow was the Sophomore Interest day at Harvard. The two weeks since he received the invitation seemed to drag on forever. But it was finally here. His plan to surprise Rory had fallen apart the second he saw her. She had been practically skipping down the halls eager to share her news. Her grin was so infectious he had made the mistake of asking her what made her so happy. And in keeping the vow he made to himself, he confessed that he too was going.
Maybe it was wishful thinking, but Rory had actually seemed excited that he was going. Tristan had done his research, and he knew that only a handful of Chilton students were going this weekend. Paris, like the rest of his classmates, had used family money and influence to arrange her own private visit. In most other situations, this would have been the route he chose too. But not this time. Tristan cherished the thought that he would be the only friendly face that weekend.
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Tristan grabbed his English book from his locker, being careful not to displace the stack. He had long ago perfected the movement so that all the books wouldn't come crashing out of his locker onto his feet. He was not a neat freak, to say the least, and the mountain of books in his locker had become somewhat of an art form.
"Hey Tristan." The sound of his name on her lips always gave him goose bumps.
Tristan shut his locker and turned to face her.
"Hey Rory," he said with a smile. Over the past few weeks, things had become less awkward between the two. Rory was still dealing with the aftermath of the Tristan/Paris date. And he knew quite well, that she hadn't mended things with Paris, Madeline, or Louise. So in a way, he was her only friend.
"Did you finish that assignment for English?" He knew the answer without even asking. Rory always finished her assignments early.
"Nope. I've still got about 3 more pages to go before it's done."
Tristan gave her a doubting look. "Truth." It was more of a command than a question. It was never really spoken out loud, but over the past few weeks, he and Rory had come to an unspoken agreement to be honest with one another. He felt that he owed her that much. On the night of the party, they had both confessed things to each other, and it was difficult to revert from honesty once they had taken that step.
"Okay, okay. I finished it Tuesday night. But I haven't revised it yet, so technically it's not finished."
Tristan gave her a knowing grin as they turned the corner, heading for English class.
"So, are you ready for tomorrow?" Rory asked.
"I guess so. I'm not really looking forward to spending the night with some guy who volunteered just to get extra credit in one of his classes. But hey, anything that gets me away from my parents can't be all bad"
"Yeah, I know what you mean. Well, about the roommate thing. I actually don't mind being around my mom. I know it's going to be hard for her in a few years when I do move out. Tomorrow night will be like our trial separation. Other than spending the night a Lane's and my grandparents, she and I haven't really spent that many nights apart."
"You know, I have never met anyone who gets along with their mother like you do. Most people I know hate their parents. It's really cool that you guys get along." Tristan actually was envious of Rory's relationship with her mother. The only parenting skills his parents had involved a checkbook. He was glad that they mostly stayed out of his life. Yet, he missed the opportunity to be close to them.
They walked into their classroom and took their seats, just as the bell was ringing. Rory busied herself arranging her backpack and briefly looked in Paris' direction. Paris was staring down at her desk, but she couldn't hide the expression on her face. Rory knew that Paris was still angry, and it probably didn't help seeing her walk in with Tristan. Though, since the whole ordeal, Rory's choices for friends had narrowed considerably.
"This is going to be a long 2 years" Rory thought to herself.
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Rory stepped off the bus onto the Harvard campus at exactly 8:40. She looked around her at the ancient architect of the buildings. She couldn't put her finger on the reason, but something about those buildings signaled class and prestige. She admired the scenery, and pictured herself walking amongst those buildings on her way to class. Yes, this was definitely where she was meant to be.
Her information packet said that she was to report to Hilton Hall by 9 a.m. She had memorized the campus map on the bus ride, and she knew that she had to start walking then to make it on time.
The campus was quite bare for a Saturday morning. Due to the upcoming finals, most students were spending every free minute in the library or other conducive study grounds. Rory enjoyed the quiet walk through campus. She arrived at the back door to the auditorium a few minutes to 9. She knew from her obsessive review of all Harvard materials, this was the largest lecture hall on campus. But nothing would have prepared her for the size of that room. There were about 500 seats, half of which were occupied by fellow invitees. Rory took a deep breath, preparing herself for the day that lie ahead, weaved her way through the aisles, finally taking a seat in the second row. She glanced around the room looking for Tristan, but had no luck finding him in that sea of faces.
Rory settled into her seat and pulled out her current novel. She had been careful to pack 2 for this trip, in case things didn't go well in the dorms that night.
At exactly 9 o'clock, a representative from the admissions office began the program. Rory listened intently as he gave a brief history of the University and the prestige of being invited to this event. He then went on to explain the schedule for the next 24 hours. Rory was careful to jot down highlights on her copy of the schedule. Nearing the end of his speech, the representative explained that the students were going to be broken up into groups of 20 to make the tours more personal. The groups were quickly divided up based on their current seating arrangements and each group followed their appointed guide. When the time came, Rory's group stood and exited the auditorium beginning their Harvard experience.
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By about 1 o'clock, Rory had taken in hours of information. It didn't take her long to decide that this place definitely could not be described in a brochure. No words could describe the atmosphere of the University. That morning she had attended an hour lecture on Medieval history. Rory actually enjoyed the class, especially the fact that it was taught by a professor and not a grad student. At most other colleges, the professor's name appeared in the course guidebook and on the syllabus, but they never stepped foot into a lecture hall. Some students actually graduated from schools without ever having sat through a lecture by a professor.
She was really beginning to feel at home here. She had imagined this place many times in her head. Being on campus actually made her feel like it was a real place. It wasn't just the fantasyland she had created.
Rory's group made their way to a dining hall on campus a few minutes later. The dining hall oddly reminded her of Chilton. But then again, how many variations can there be to a place that's sole purpose is to feed thousands of students each day. Rory took a place at the end of a line, and reached for her book. Gazing at the number of students in line and the rate at which it was moving, she figured she could get in at least 3 chapters before she got her food.
"What's wrong, are we not interesting enough for you?" Rory looked up the guy that was standing in front of her. He was another sophomore who had been in her group. She knew this because she had seen him giving her the eye all day. She also knew that his name was Brent. This she knew because she had heard him methodically hit on every girl in their group.
"Actually, I just like reading." Rory responded. She was not in the mood to get in an argument, especially with someone she didn't know.
"Well, why don't you put that down and look at me. I can be very interesting, " he retorted rather snidely.
"No thanks, I think I'll stick with my book," Rory said without looking up.
"Oh come on. Are you embarrassed that a cute boy is talking to you. Don't know quite how to act," he taunted.
Rory continued reading, trying to ignore his comments.
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Tristan entered the cafeteria and immediately began searching for Rory. He watched her group come in here a few minutes ago. To say that he had been disappointed with the day was an understatement. When he first signed the response care, he envisioned a day spent walking the campus with Rory. Instead, he had spent the day touring the campus with a group of girls from Massachusetts. He found out early that they knew each other well, and they shared many common interests. And that day, their common interest was him.
Normally, he would have been flattered that these beautiful girls were after him. He probably would have flirted along with them. But he had spent the morning distractedly looking for Rory. Each time a group passed his, he would search out every face, hoping to see the one that made his heart melt. And finally he had found her.
She was standing in the food line, trying to avoid some guy who was obviously trying to get to her. Tristan knew the scene well. He had lived it so many times. He watched her squirm and cast her evil stare at boy. The same evil eye that he had been the recipient of not too long ago. As before, he instinctively wanted to rush to protect her, but he held himself back. Ironically, he had been in this position quite frequently lately. As he resisted the urge to stroll over and deck the guy, he thought of another plan. A plan that would probably have the same desired effect, but this one was more appealing.
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"You know they have a word for girls like you. It's called virgin."
"And they have a word for boys like you. It's called slimeball," Rory quickly retorted. She had been having this argument with this guy for the last 5 minutes. Like most guys her age, he immediately began attacking her character when she didn't fall at his feet. He had insulted her, and hit on her trying to get some reaction. She had tried ignoring him, and when that didn't work, she was matching him comment for comment. No matter what she did, she couldn't get him to leave her alone. What was it about her that invited every jerk in the tri-state area to come and pick on her. Did she have some sign on her back that said, "Annoy me please."?
"You know you can just tell me. You find me incredibly attractive and you can't wait for me to ask you out. So tell me, when I kiss you, will it be your first?" He had worked his way into her personal space and prided himself on the fact that she kept stepping away.
Before Rory could reply, she felt someone behind her.
Tristan silently approached her from behind, slowly wrapping his arms around Rory's waist, and pulled her to him. He tilted his head ever so slightly and gently kissed her neck, just below the earlobe. "Hey beautiful," he said in a husky voice.
Rory stiffened at his touch. She was shocked by his actions and her first thought was to pull away. Her second thought was that she was going to deck him. She turned her face to his and met his gaze. The second their eyes met, she forgot all that was around her. It took her several silent moments to recover from those blue eyes. Slowly as her senses returned, she realized what he was doing. She smiled an understanding of his unspoken intentions and relaxed in his embrace.
"Hey, I missed you," she said quietly.
Tristan returned her smile, relieved that she had caught on to his game.
"Oh, I'm sorry, was I interrupting something," Tristan asked innocently, looking at the guy in front of Rory.
"Oh no. This Casanova was just telling me how lucky I should be that he would want to talk to me. He was expounding on how attractive he finds himself, but honestly I just don't see it," Rory said in Tristan's direction.
Tristan responded without taking his eyes from Rory's. "Yeah, personally, I think his eyes are too close together. Probably wouldn't hurt if he got himself a closet instead of storing his clothes on the floor."
Brent quickly got the idea, and retreated before either of them could insult him further.
For a moment, Tristan forgot that he was putting on a show, and the audience had just left. He stood there enjoying the moment for a few seconds, and reluctantly let her go.
Rory felt an inexplicable tinge of disappointment as Tristan relinquished his hold. Her smile had been real, and she was beginning to forget that the whole encounter was not. Her smile faded a bit as she took a step back.
"Thank you for that," she said softly. "You know, you seem to be coming to my rescue a lot lately. I'm starting to feel like one of those romantic heroines who can't defend herself in the simplest battles."
"Honestly, I didn't do that for you. I did that for me."
Rory gave him a questioning look as he paused in his explanation.
"You see, I have a lot of making up to do. A few weeks ago, I was that guy. Now I have a heck of a task trying to make up for that." Tristan explained. "In 10 years, when you look back on high school, I want you to remember me in this role, not in the other."
Rory was touched by his explanation. A few weeks ago, she never thought that she would ever have a decent conversation with Tristan DuGrey. Nor could she imagine forgiving him for the way he treated her. She was beginning to see the side of Tristan that Paris loved. This Tristan was kind, protective, and completely capable of winning her heart.
"We've been over this. You apologized, I accepted, end of story. As long as you don't hop the fence back to the dark side, we'll be okay."
They stood there in silence for a few moments. Then Rory changed the subject. "So, how do you like this place? Is it everything you imagined?"
Tristan followed her lead and began discussing the pros and cons of the University. He was still tingling inside from touching her, but he was trying not to let it show. He decided that if he ever had to chose, this way of defending her won. Hands down.
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The day dragged on for Tristan, as he spent a great deal of time avoiding the advances of the Massachusetts girls. He hadn't seen Rory since lunch, and he doubted that he would see her the rest of the stay. This was definitely not going according to his plan.
Tristan shifted in his seat, leaning against the armrest of the sofa with his legs stretched out before him. It was about 10 p.m. He had retreated here to the lobby of the dorm soon after arriving. As he had expected, the freshman he was matched up with was definitely not the pride and joy of the University. He hadn't even answered the door when Tristan knocked. After waiting in the hallway for 20 minutes, the guy finally showed, with his girlfriend. He allowed Tristan enough time to drop off his bags before shutting the door in his face.
And so this is where he ended up. Tristan paused in thought, chewing the end of the pen in his hand, and scribbled in his notebook.
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Rory tucked her book under her arm and went in search of the stairway. She had met her roommate, and decided that they would best get along after she was asleep. In their brief encounter, the girl opened the door, turned her back, and returned to her computer. She hadn't even cleared enough floor space for Rory to put down her things. "Don't touch anything." Rory tripped over the piles of clothes and quickly went in search of a quiet place to read.
Rory managed to find her way to the lobby, and entered through the heavy doors. There were a few dedicated students studying for the upcoming finals in a corner of the room. But mostly, it was silent.
She started in the general direction of the sofas, which were arranged near the window and across from a baby grand piano. She smiled when she saw the piano. She knew she was now classically conditioned to remember kissing Tristan every time she saw one. As she was making her way across the room, she saw Tristan sitting on the end of one of the sofas. He was busy writing in a notebook that somewhat resembled a journal. She couldn't deny the fact that she was thrilled he was there. She had missed their banter that day. More importantly, she had missed his companionship.
She strolled up behind him and looked over his shoulder. He was lost in thought as he jotted on the pages. Rory read a few lines, and was astonished by what she read. He was writing a poem. The title was one word. "She". "She stops my heart with her smile. Her laughter touches my soul..."
Rory took a moment to collect her thoughts. "What's that?", she asked.
Tristan was startled by her voice and quickly closed his notebook as he twirled around to face her. "Nothing, uh I was just working on that essay for Government."
Rory grinned at him. "Truth," she commanded mimicking his actions from the day before.
Tristan hesitated. He didn't want to tell her the truth. He tried to think of something that would sound reasonable, but decided against it. "Promise you won't laugh." He waited for her to nod in agreement. "I was writing a poem. It's a habit I have. Not many people know that about me. I fell in love with poetry in Jr. High and it's become somewhat of an obsession. Now you know one of my deep dark secrets."
Laughter was the farthest thing from Rory's mind. She couldn't believe that Tristan had a secret passion for poetry. There was something sweet, and innocent about it. She had tried numerous times to write poetry, but it always came out wrong. She was impressed with what she had read so far, and quickly ascertained that Tristan was probably very good at it.
"It'll be our secret," Rory said. Then she winked at him.
Tristan let out a short laugh, somewhat relieved that she wasn't going to tease him about it. "What brings you down here?"
"My roommate couldn't be bothered to let me stay up there. I thought I'd get in some reading while I pray she falls asleep. I don't think she can shoot daggers at me while she's sleeping."
"My roommie is sharing his room with his girlfriend as we speak. Somehow I don't think they're going to be getting much sleep tonight. I'm probably just going to crash here."
Rory took a seat on the opposite side of the sofa. She had taken the time to change into a pair of flannel checked pants and a t-shirt. Tristan hid a smile. She could even make that look gorgeous.
Rory gazed out the window in front of the sofa. "Wow, this campus is really pretty at night," she said, thinking out loud.
Tristan thought for a second. "Here's a crazy idea, let's go for a walk. Really get to see the campus as it's meant to be."
Rory gaped at him. "I'm in my pajamas."
"So. There's not going to be anyone out there. Unless you're afraid you'll run into that guy from lunch and you want to look your best?"
"We don't have a way back in. They lock the doors at 11, and then we'd be stuck outside all night."
"No we wouldn't. I have a key," Tristan said, as if it were completely natural that he would have a key to a Harvard dorm.
"What did you steal that off your roommate while he was stripping his clothes for his girlfriend."
"My brother, Taylor, gave it to me. He lived here his freshman year. He made a copy of the key for me in case I needed to come visit him, you know if my parents were fighting. I remembered it the other day and just brought it with me."
"You have a brother?," Rory asked in disbelief.
"Three actually. I'm the youngest. Brendan's the oldest, he's 33, then there's Ethan, who's 28, and Taylor's 24. I was an accident."
"Wow, I never knew you had siblings. No offense, but I always thought that based on your previous 'holier than thou' attitude, you were an only child."
Tristan accepted the comment. It was true after all. "Well, I pretty much am an only child. Ethan moved out when I was in kindergarten, and Taylor left when I was 10. I never lived in the same house as Brendan."
Rory absorbed this information with interest. She realized how little she really knew about Tristan . She had never considered the possibility that Tristan had family. She liked the thought of 4 DuGrey brothers. She could almost imagine the testosterone packed DuGrey household, filled with discarded athletic equipment and trophy wife girlfriends. His parents must have been fighting off women for decades.
"Now you're off the subject," Tristan said breaking into her thoughts. "Let's drop our books at the desk and we're going for a walk." He put up a hand to wave off her protests. "I'm not taking no for an answer. This is your dream and you're going to get the whole experience."
"Did anyone ever tell you you were stubborn?"
"Goes with the territory." He grabbed her elbow and pulled her toward the desk. "When I get my mind set on something, nothing can change it."
Rory was about to learn the full meaning of that statement.
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"Chocolate or Vanilla?", Rory asked. They had been walking for the past 45 minutes and had entered into round 34 of this game Tristan had dubbed "Either/Or".
"Depends" he responded.
"What do you mean it depends? It's a simple question."
"It depends on whether your talking about pudding or ice cream. If your talking about pudding, I would say chocolate. But if you're talking about ice cream, vanilla wins, no contest."
"You've thought this through I see." Rory smiled for the hundredth time that night. She couldn't remember the last time she had had such a good time. Something about being with Tristan relaxed her. The first few times she went anywhere with Dean, she could barely speak. She had constantly analyzed everything she was about to say so that she didn't come across sounding like an idiot. She didn't have to do that with Tristan. It just came easy to her.
Not that she and Tristan were on a date or anything, she quickly reminded herself.
Tristan watched her out of the corner of her eye. She was smiling again. God how he loved to see her smile. And he liked being the one that put that smile there. They had talked about everything that night. He had never known this much about any girl before. Usually he barely made it past her name before they were making out in the back of his car. She intrigued him. With each fact he learned, she became more of a mystery. And with each fact, he was falling harder.
Rory shivered a bit. It was a brisk spring night, and she was only in a t-shirt. Tristan saw this and immediately began to remove the fleece he was wearing. Before he could offer it to her, she was already refusing it.
"I'm not taking your shirt," she said flatly.
"Talk about stubborn. Your taking the shirt. I have a long sleeve shirt on anyway. I'm not going to have you freezing to death. I don't want to have to carry you all the way back to the dorm. I'm not creative enough to make up some story when the police stop me carrying your unconscious body through the woods."
Rory reluctantly took the fleece. She put her arms through first and pulled it over her head. The sleeves covered her hands and it came almost to her knees. She had forgotten how much taller he was than her. As soon as she put it on, she could smell him on it. She couldn't pinpoint what it was. It just smelled like him. And it smelled wonderful.
Tristan looked at her swimming in his shirt. There was something so intimate with that picture. In movies, they always show the guy offering the girl his coat. There's something unspoken in that gesture that says more than he could put into words. He decided that that shirt was definitely his favorite.
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About 20 minutes later, they found themselves seated near the center of campus. The walk from the dorm to this spot should normally take 15 minutes, but they had both lost track of time. Distracted by their conversation, they had crossed and recrossed their path several times. And now they were seated on benches, under the cover of an old gazebo.
"I am sixteen, going on seventeen..." Rory began to hum the song from the Sound of Music.
"If your expecting me to join in this little duet, you don't know me as well as you think."
"Oh, Tristan," she chided. "How often do you find yourself out on a beautiful night like tonight, in a gazebo."
"Hopefully quite often," he responded.
Rory gave him a puzzled look. "Do you have a thing for the octagonal shape?," she jested.
"No. I just have a thing for this particular one."
Rory continued to look at him in bewilderment.
"Come on Rory. I thought you knew every piece of history about this campus. Please tell me you know the legend of this gazebo."
"I know everything about the courses and professors, but buildings never struck my fancy. Please enlighten me," she requested in her best impersonation of a proper lady.
"Well I don't know all the details but it goes something like this. When the University first allowed girls to come here, they all lived in one dorm across campus. It was commonly known as the 'Virgin Vault'. In a promise to each girl's parents, the University ensured that each girl would not be tainted by the men on campus. So they set a midnight curfew. The only excuse for being out past midnight was if she was with her parents. Any violation of the curfew resulted in punishments that varied from increased chores to expulsion, based on the severity of the offense. I mean, we're talking about the days of chaperoned courting. Anyway, the legend says that in order for a girl to be a true coed, she must be kissed at this gazebo for the duration of the 12 tolls of the campus clock. If she's here being kissed, there's not a chance she would make it back to her dorm by curfew. It's an old tradition but most students here still observe it."
"Wow, that sounds so romantic. I can't wait to be kissed here," she said before thinking.
Their eyes darted toward each other in an awkward moment. After a few minutes of silence, Rory spoke first.
"I liked your poem."
Tristan's gaze returned to her face. "You read that?" he asked embarrassed.
"It was very sweet. Totally unTristanlike," she said admiringly.
"Thank you. Your opinion means a lot to me."
Rory bore the weight of that confession. "Is it about anyone in particular, or is it abstract?"
"There's a real subject."
"The girl you like, right?", she asked expectantly.
Tristan didn't answer her.
"She must really be something," Rory thought aloud.
"She is," he replied somberly.
"Tell me about her." Deep down, Rory was hoping he would turn to her and tell her it was her. She had been fighting her feelings for Tristan for some time now. For the first time in her life, she was keeping this from Lane, and from her mother.
"She's stunning. She's intelligent. She makes me do things I never would do. I can't control myself when she's near. She has a wit to match my own. And she invades my mind every waking moment, and most non-waking ones too."
Rory's hopes sank the moment he mentioned the girl was stunning. Compared to all the girls Tristan had dated, she was dowdy. She didn't wear the trendy clothes, nor did she wear any makeup. Most girls he dated looked like they walked off the runway. She looked like she had walked through Goodwill. Whoever this girl was, she had to be magnificent.
"Sounds like I would approve," Rory said half-heartedly.
"I think you would," he replied. He noticed a distinct change in her mood. Did he have to spell it out for her.
"Well, why haven't you asked her out already. It's not like you to be shy or anything."
"I'm waiting for the right moment. She's not ready yet. And I'm not ready to push her."
"Why's the moment not right?", Rory inquired.
Tristan was quickly tiring of holding back his feelings. He tried to be as obvious as possible without mentioning her name. "Well, ever since I've known her, I've been the biggest jerk. I picked on her, tried to pick a fight with her boyfriend. She's too good for me. We just started to become friends and I don't want to lose that by making a move. So I'm waiting until she's ready."
Rory absorbed each word he said. With every statement, the butterflies built in her stomach. Could it be possible that he was talking about her? The chance had presented itself, and she was not going to let it pass her by. Her whole life she had played by the rules, played it safe. Everything in her head told her to let it go. But everything in her heart told her to take a chance. So she took that chance. It came out in two simple words.
She said it so softly the first time, Tristan didn't even realize she had spoken. He was tracing circles in the dust that had gathered on the bench beside him. She spoke a little bolder the second time, and he froze at her words.
"I'm ready."
As he let the words sink in, he slowly turned to face her. She was sitting on a bench directly across from the one he was on. The moonlight was casting shadows through the tiny space, and he couldn't see her face.
In a swift movement, he crossed the distance between them and gently sat beside her. He searched her eyes for confirmation of the words she had just spoken. It was there.
A feeling rushed through Tristan's body that was so foreign, yet so right. He kept his eyes fixed on hers as her focus shifted from his stare, to her feet, and back. He reached his hand up and gently tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.
"Do I make you nervous?" he asked softly, reliving a former moment, now making it intimate.
"Yes, very much." Rory watched a smile touch his lips, and reflected it with her own.
"Good. As long as we're agreed" he smiled back.
He leaned in and softly kissed her lips. As he did, he felt that same spark that ignited the first time their lips met. He kissed her for a few seconds and then reluctantly pulled away.
The tenderness of his kiss sent chills through her body. It was the kind of kiss she felt all the way down to her toes. As quickly as it started, it was over. He was moving slowly, not pushing her any faster than she was ready to go. The sweetness of that gesture confirmed what she had known all along. She had fallen for Tristan DuGrey.
He looked into her eyes as a childish grin appeared on her face. "What are you thinking?" he asked.
"I was thinking that that was a good kiss. And I was thinking that you can do better than that."
Her teasing was the only invitation he needed. He leaned in to kiss her again, this time she met him halfway. He kissed her again, and she kissed back. It wasn't the type of kiss that would light a room on fire, but it was the type that would be remembered long after it was over. Not so much for the passion, but for the person who was sharing it.
Pulling away the second time was even more difficult that the first. Knowing that there would be more to follow made the separation bearable.
He stood silently and extended his hand to her. She reached out and met his hand with her own, covered by the sleeve of his borrowed shirt. With his free hand, he pushed back the fleece and took her hand in his, lacing his first two fingers around the last two of hers.
The way he was holding her hand was decidedly sexier than any other way it could be done. Not possessing, but as if she were gracing him with her touch.
He led her across the floor and down the steps to the path. He glanced at his watch and in the clarity of the moment, he realized that the bells he heard when they were kissing weren't just in his head.
"Congratulations Rory Gilmore. You just became a true college coed."
**************The End***********