All characters are property of the WB. Don't sue, I have nothing you would want anyway. I hope ya'll enjoy it, and feel free to IM or email me at anytime! I'd love to talk with fellow Gilmore Girl fans!!

Authors Note: This chapter is Tristans feelings, the way his mind works and how he felt during the first year at Chilton, dealing with Rory. It should be good, I hope ya'll enjoy it, and feel free to IM or email me at anytime! I'd love to talk with fellow Gilmore Girl fans!!

Chapter 1

Damn her for being so beautiful.

Not that that would change anything. He loved everything about her, not just her looks. She was so smart, so witty. He couldn't wait for the next moment to tease her, just to get some snappy come back in return. That was partly the reason he was so interested in her. She was his equal. She was his equal in everything. Looks, personality, intelligence, wit. Everyone knew that Tristan Du Grey was the school catch, and everyone wanted a piece of him. Except her.

Damn her for that as well.

Slamming his locker shut, Tristan took one final look around Chilton High. Tomorrow he's be back here again, but he wanted to remember it the way it looked today. The day she wasn't there. It seemed dim, almost fuzzy to him. He knew it was all in his head, or his heart for that matter.

She had been sick. He could tell the few days before when he sat behind her, hearing her soft sniffles and watching her rub her temples. Rory was hardly ever sick, and the fact that she was sick so close to Christmas break worried him. Would she be better for Christmas, or worse? Would her Christmas be just as bad as his were every year? Shaking his head, he rubbed the sore muscles on the back of his neck. Of course it could never be as bad as his. Her mother, her family, her friends, they'd all be there with her on Christmas Eve and Christmas morning. Bringing her something to drink if her throat hurt, wrapping her up in a blanket if she was cold. It wouldn't matter to them if she had a cold. Christmas was Christmas no matter what at the Gilmore house, he was sure.

Making his way towards his car, he couldn't help but feel slightly jealous of her. What she didn't have that he did didn't matter. He had the money, the big houses. He had the luxury of never having to worry about his life, about not being able to support himself. He had the popularity and the power at Chilton, he never had to worry about teasing or being challenged. So what was it all worth? He could have had all the money in the world, and yet he'd still trade it in for a life like Rory Gilmore's. An hour in a life like Rory Gilmore.

Damn her for that too!

He opened his car door and threw his items in the back seat. He was doing it again. Being a jerk. Stepping inside the car, he put the keys in the ignition and started the car, finding a soft peace within it's comforting and rhythmic hum. He wasn't normally a jerk -wait, he wasn't normally a jerk inside. On the outside he presented himself to be confident, cocky, God amongst all teenagers. All of it was a front. He found that if you acted confident, you would soon be confident. It didn't matter that that confidence came from a string of heartbroken girls and pats of approval on the back from his friends. Over the years of being the prize at Chilton, his inside had began to turn as cold as his front was. All fake, all empty. He didn't even realize it until she came into the picture.

God, he could still remember that day. The day he first saw her. Her eyes, her frustrated look. The soft brown hair that fell over her shoulders softly. The way she twisted her lips slightly when she talked. Back then he hadn't realized he had been etching all those things in his memory, but he knew whenever he looked back and he could see everything so perfectly. So, he loved her.

She hated him.

The moment the words came out of her mouth, they seemed to punch him straight in the guts. He could feel the aching deep within his stomach. It felt like a poll vaulter had jammed it's poll straight into his ball and made his leap straight into his heart, crashing it into a million pieces. It was the same feeling you get when going on a rollercoaster, the feeling of all your insides being shoved back and forth inside you. The emptiness, the coldness. Shivering slightly at the memory, Tristan turned on the radio and did his best to ignore the returning ache in his chest.

Just as he had the first day she came into his life, he had etched everything from that afternoon last summer in his mind. The angry look on her face, the frustrated and at end expression in her eyes. All he had wanted was for her to join him at the concert. Granted, he wasn't doing the best job of inviting her. He realized now that maybe if he had just asked, and not demanded, that he would have gotten his wish. It was a long shot, but a better one then the turn out of "I hate you."

He felt a slight twinge of jealously as he remembered how her faced slightly brightened when she saw Dean standing next to his truck. The sudden fear that leaped into her eyes as she saw him turn and make his way to the door.

"Cause I love you, idiot."

She loved him. The world that had tumbled under him moments before had now turned into mounds of murky shit, swallowing him whole, surrounding him completely. Not only had she said she hated him, but said she loved Dean.

"Go, Rory. Two strong emotions in one day. Lucky you."

Groaning, he mentally slapped himself.

"Knock it off. You're just beating yourself up for nothing. You're just being an asshole."

But she had that control over him. The mind numbing way of causing all his thoughts and actions to fumble, crash and then burn. He always had to make his mind work double time around Rory. Forcing himself to stay on track, never stutter, never falter. Practically impossible he knew, but he managed to pull it off. Every nice thing he ever wanted to say to her was replaced by the little 3rd grader inside him, telling him to pull her hair and call her a butthead. No one had ever had that kind of control on him before. No other girl clouded his mind when he saw her, twisted his words when he spoke to her, made his body so tense when he tried to walk to her. Now out of no where he had to find a way to deal with this, and find away to get back under control.

That's where Summer came in. Yeah, she was beautiful. That was about all he could say about her. The fact that she had a low brain cell count and an even lower IQ had made it easier for him to push aside his feelings for Rory for just a little awhile. Summer and Rory were nothing alike, and that's why he needed Summer so badly. He didn't need Summer in the way Rory thought he did that night at the party. He didn't love her, he barely cared for her at all. Summer made his mind clear, made him able to see.

And then she bailed on him, and he had gone and kissed Rory. Oh, God her lips were so soft. So gentle, so smooth under his own. It only lasted seconds, but it manages to go on in his head for eternity, playing over and over again. He could feel the heat radiating off her body, her soft tremble as she let herself go and fall into his kiss. The way her lips moved against his barely, making just the softest bit of friction. Then she tensed, and he watched as the tears welled up in those blue eyes and before he knew it, she was gone.

Since then there was a constant strain. Off and on they were together. Friends one minute, complete enemies the next. He did his best to act right around her, tease her just enough to get a reaction, frustrate her enough just to see the soft glow of fire in her eyes. He did his best to make sure his friends never spoke about her behind her back, that Paris and her gang of prissies left her alone, and it had worked a little bit, but he wasn't around all the time and things can always be said when he can't hear them. He knew a new Tristan was breaking it's way through the old, and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that yet, but if it meant Rory would look at him in another way, he'd be willing for this change.

Pulling into the long driveway of his house, he parked his car and stepped out, throwing his bag over his shoulder and made his way towards the front door. His house was nothing less than beautiful. The outside was built to make the inside look bigger, not that it needed it anyway. Pillars stood near the front steps, followed by white and glass French doors, that set the mood for the rest of his house. Although it was beautiful, and he was sure many other kids would have loved to live there, he could hardly stand it. Everytime he walked in, he felt he should be whispering, never talking. He shouldn't touch anything, keep his hands in his pocket and walk straight ahead. This house wasn't lived in, this house was showed off. It was like living in a museum. Constantly cold, constantly kept in perfect condition. His room was the only one that looked lived in, but it barely made it. Even if he did have all the money in the world when he moved out, he would never buy a house like this. Ever.

He made his way up to his room and placed his bag neatly by his desk before plunging himself down atop his bed. He rubbed his eyes, doing his best to rid them of their need to sleep and placed his hands behind his head. Rory seemed to be on his mind every house of every day now, and he wasn't sure if it bothered him.

In the year and a half they had known each other, they have had so many ups and downs he couldn't count them all. He was sure deep down that she had no clue of his true feelings for her and for the time being that was just how it was going to stay. Until he could find away back into her life, he wouldn't let any emotion fall in the way. He had to be in her life again, or he felt he would slowly fade away into a pathetic foolish boy. He was drowning in her, and he needed her to save him.