Author's note: This fic was intended to be a one parter. I'm sorry if you don't like it that way. If I run into inspiration, maybe someday I'll continue. Not really that good in my opinion, but then I always think that.
Rory crossed her arm over her stomach, holding her glass in her free hand. The sweat droplets fell from the glass, making tiny puddles on the floor at her feet. Leaning her back against the wall, she stared out among the crowd in front of her.
Her eyes darted around the room, briefly stopping on different people. The students milling about the room were familiar faces, but she would never dare to call them her friends. She had learned a long time ago that friendship was something that didn't exist at Chilton. It simply could not survive in the atmosphere of competition. Chilton students had by now perfected the game of stepping on and backstabbing each other to get what they wanted. A Chilton student was ruthless when it came to ridding himself of obstacles in his path to success. Rory was certain this trait was inherited along with the proverbial silver spoon. If not congenital, it manifested itself in the education system they face. The demanding structure of Chilton would ensure that. By their senior year, most only needed a few minor tweaks to master the game.
But Rory was forever behind. While most Chilton students had the privilege of 12 years to work the system, she had only had 2 and a half years to learn the game. She had all but given up when her desire to do what was morally right battled with her desire to make it to Harvard. Eventually, she gave herself into the game, pushing and shoving her way to get what she wanted, what she needed. She wasn't proud her actions, but it was survival.
And it had gotten her here. A week before graduation. Attending this party with the future elite of America. In six days she was expected to stand in front of them and address them, reliving all the great moments they had had as a class. How they had bonded over the struggles and difficulties of the curriculum, while enjoying the growth that ensued because of it. She was expected to tell stories about how they had formed such great friendships, and how years from now, they will look back on their high school days and remember with joy. Basically, her duty as Salutatorian was to lie through her teeth, tell the faculty and parents what they wanted to hear, and try to get it done in as little time as possible. It was a joke, and everyone knew it.
And so here she stood. Surrounding herself with a class of students who barely knew her name. Early into her junior year, she resigned herself to the fact that these parties were a necessity. In order to make the proper connections for Harvard, she needed to attend these parties. For the last 2 years, she had joined her classmates at numerous parties, both with parents, and without. She made it a point to acquaint herself with all of the students, journaling all relevant information about each parent. She knew who held what position, and how each one could help her on her journey. And more importantly, she knew which ones had pull with the admissions board at Harvard.
2 months ago she received the letter that had changed her life. She was accepted to Harvard and would be leaving in the fall to pursue her dreams. All her hard work had paid off. So technically, she no longer needed to network these parties. She was here tonight out of simple curiosity.
She stood along the wall, watching as her classmates drank and partied themselves into oblivion. It was one of the last nights of their childhood, and most had decided to live it up. She never quite understood the desire to be completely wasted in front of others. And after witnessing some acts of her less than sober classmates, she decided that alcohol was definitely not her cup of tea. She contented herself with her diet Coke, epitomizing the role of the wallflower..
Shoving off of the wall, she wandered through the crowd making polite conversation with the only lucid people she could find. After a few minutes of wandering the party, she stumbled upon Paris and a few of her friends. They were in a small room just off of the foyer, and each one politely nodded their greeting when she approached. While she and Paris were still far from being considered friends, they had made it through the traumas of school together. Paris had forgiven her for whatever she held against her, and Rory had learned to deal with Paris' jealous fits. Rory entered the room and made her way over to one of the couches. Sitting on the armrest she finally let the conversation around her sink in.
She listened as different people in the room piped up about how grown up they felt, how they were no longer kids and were starting to face the real world. Her stomach lurched at the thought. As much as she was eager to pack her bags for Harvard, she wasn't prepared to leave her mother behind. A part of her would always be missing with her mother so far away. Her mother had joked about moving into her dorm room, just so she could annoy her 24 hours a day. She smiled at the thought, thinking of how nice that might actually have been. She was growing up too fast, and sometimes she wished it would all just stop.
"You know what would be fun?" She turned to the girl on the couch who spoke.
"Let's play a game of spin the bottle."
She heard a few groans around the room and many utterances of "childish" and "juvenile".
"I'm serious," the girl continued. "We haven't done that since Jr. High. It'll make us feel young again."
Rory rolled her eyes at the thought. She looked around the room, realizing that the occupants were actually considering the idea. Her eyes flashed to Paris, who in turn was gazing at Tristan He was was sitting in the back of the room, for once failing to be the center of everyone's attention. Paris' infatuation with Tristan was hardly a secret. And though he had barely given her the time of day for the last few years, she still carried a torch for him after all these years. Rory was certain Paris was dying to give that bottle a spin.
Everyone started shifting in the room, as someone ran to the hallway to grab a bottle. Rory decided that now was a good time to make her exit. She stood to leave, colliding with a broad chest as she turned. Rory was startled at the contact, quickly taking a step backwards. She inhaled sharply as her eyes met the sparkling blue depths of her tormenter.
"Leaving so soon?" , he drawled.
"What do you want Tristan?" Her tone held little exasperation, for long ago, she had learned to play this game with him. After the first year of his teasing, she ascertained that he wasn't as harmful as she once thought. And if she allowed herself to admit it, she actually enjoyed sparring with him. His constant annoyance had been one of the few staples of her Chilton existence.
"You know what I want." He raised a knowing eyebrow.
"If you don't mind, I was going to get myself another drink."
"No you weren't." He stood blocking her path.
"Excuse me?"
"You were dashing out of here before you got mixed up in this game."
Rory glared at him. "So what if I was? It's just a stupid game."
Tristan crossed his arms defiantly in front of him. "Well if it's just a stupid game, then why don't you play."
Rory stood her ground. "Well, unlike some people I know, I don't go around kissing everyone in sight. I have standards you know. When I kiss someone it's supposed to mean something."
Tristan's eyes fixed on hers, neither saying a word. Both knowing that their minds had just returned to that night 2 years ago. The night he had relived every day of his life. The night she fought in her mind as it's memory forced it's way into her dreams.
"I bet you've never even played spin the bottle." His voice was challenging her to contradict him.
"No I haven't."
"Then you're playing."
"Gee, you're awfully eager to play this game aren't you. Just one question though. Is there any girl in this room who has yet to have the pleasure of your tongue in her mouth?"
Tristan smirked, casting her a knowing look. "I knew it. You consider kissing me to be a pleasure."
Rory scoffed at the arrogance in his voice. Aiming to knock him from his pedestal, she snapped back a reply. "Slip of the tongue."
Tristan's eyes were touched with amusement. "Slip you the tongue? Tsk tsk Rory." He cast her a mock scolding glance. "The game hasn't even started and you're giving me pointers. If you want to get a head start we can always sneak out the back..."
"You disgust me." She attempted to move past him but he stepped into her way.
"Well at least that hasn't changed in the last 2 years."
Rory looked at him hoping her consternation would convince him to move from her path.
"One spin."
"No"
"I'll even clear a path so you can run from the room when it's over." His mocking tone hid the hurt in that memory.
"Only the thought of kissing one person makes me want to run from the room."
"Please, Rory". Rory tried in vain to stop the skip in her heartbeat at the sound of her name on his lips. "One spin, and regardless of who it lands on, you can leave."
"Oh, so now I need your permission to leave. I'm sorry 'Oh Great and Mighty Tristan'. I didn't get the memo."
"Fine. For once in your life, why don't you do something everyone else is doing. Join the crowd. Cave to the peer pressure. Don't do it for me, do it for yourself."
Against her will, her mind considered this statement. She had never been a follower, but she didn't regret that. And as much as she didn't want to admit it, a small part of her wanted to see what this game was all about. To feel the expectancy as the bottle spun around, the uncertainty of who would be her next kiss. She had dated a few guys since she broke up with Dean their junior year. One of those guys was even in the room now. And it was just a kiss. It wasn't like they would be making out in front of the whole school. She wavered a bit.
Tristan saw her mind churning, and he knew she was contemplating the issue. He mentally crossed his fingers hoping she would give in to her curiosity.
"Ok, one spin."
The smile broadened on his face. He silently prayed that the bottle would end up the way it was meant to be, fate showing her what was true. He watched her turn, reluctantly making her way to the circle of participants. He watched the shocked faces register that Rory Gilmore was indeed going to play this game. He followed her to the circle, taking a seat across from her.
The game began slowly. Rory watched as methodically each person spun the bottle, kissed their partner, and returned to the task at hand. She swallowed a lump as she saw Paris spin, swallowing down a foreign pang as it slowed, and pointed at Tristan. She mentally berated herself at the notion that what she was feeling was jealousy. Paris unsuccessfully tried to hide the delight from her face, but her cheeks turned a bright shade of red. She watched as he turned, and swiftly kissed her lips. The kiss was sudden, and everyone but Paris seemed to register the meaninglessness of the kiss.
Tristan reached for the bottle and gave a spin. A million different thoughts and emotions raced through her head as she watched the bottle spin. Fear. Anticipation. Hope. Only the hope was not that the bottle would pass her by, but that it would land in her direction. She watched as the bottle slowed, gasping slightly when it stopped on her.
Her eyes flew to his across the circle, and as expected, she saw the amusement there. Rory suddenly regretted ever agreeing to this game. Realizing that she had to get through this, she resigned herself to what she had to do. She got to her knees, unconsciously licking her lips. She leaned forward, bracing herself on a hand, as Tristan did the same. She heard her heartbeat thunder through the room as she leaned in closer.
She felt a surge of warmth race through her body as his lips met hers. Forgetting everything around her, she lost herself in the soft feeling of his lips, and the tingling sensation running through her spine. Without any thought, she began moving her lips against his. She felt his surprise at first, and then willing response as his tongue began to play at her lips. Her hand went to the back of his neck, pulling him closer and increasing the pressure of their kiss. She was pulled back to reality as she heard someone in the back ground clearing their throat. Immediately, they both pulled back.
Rory sat there for a moment, eyes glued on Tristan's, fighting the medley of emotions running through her mind. She watched as he gained control over his breathing, taking a little pride in the effect she had on him. Their eyes remained locked as she sorted through her feelings and thoughts. She wanted to be upset with him for pushing her, but she knew that was a lie. She was the one who prolonged the kiss, revealing to the world the power that he had over her. She heard a laugh behind her and was suddenly reminded of where they were and who they were with.
Shocked back to reality, Rory quickly rose to her feet, blocking out the laughter of their audience. She avoided looking in Paris' direction, knowing the daggers she must be casting at her. Taking one last look at Tristan's shocked face, she turned on her heels, and fled the room.