So the fun continues! It's barely started folks....here's the good stuff. the project's started, can they handle the stress? maybe a swim could help them chill out...heh heh. ok, never mind just read. sorry bout the piecey dialogue, but it gets better. tell me what you think of it, I want your opinion, be it crud or awesome. read away....
luce
"So....what do we know about Puritans? Witches burning? Hats with buckles?" Rory sighed, ruffling the stack of papers in front of us.
"The Scarlet Letter....." grinned Tristan. Of course.
"How typical....you'd have to bring up the raunchiest thing you found related to the subject. For god's sake Tristan, I wonder how you survived at Chilton..."
Leaning back, the boy with the messy, golden hair and the sparkling blue eyes smiled insolently.
"Let's just say that not only students in this school want my body."
"Oh, I see, you slept with Mr. Medina?"
Narrowing his eyes, the boy considered the quick comeback.
"No, but does your mom?"
Rory's glare could have frozen the Sahara.
"Mr. DuGrey, not only did you insult my intelligence but you insulted my mother. I work for everything I get, unlike you whose father buys off everything.......and no she doesn't."
"Sorry," he replied, regretful he'd crossed the line.
"Not as sorry as you'll be when I'm through with you." muttered a seething Rory.
"Oh, I love it when they want it rough," murmured Tristan, setting her face ablaze.
"Tristan!" yelled the frustrated girl. "Can we have two sentences in a row without a sexual comment interjected between?"
"Sure. What about three? Is that better?"
"Hopeless," she sighed, then, turned to her books.
"That pretty much describes our cause. You want to do the Scarlet Letter as our main fiction piece? We could playact....I'll be Dimmesdale and you be Hester and we can do it so I can pin a big A to your back."
"Yesss! Does the play come complete with you getting me knocked up and having a devil baby?" answered Rory dryly.
"We don't exactly have to follow the script...."
"Good, then you get to wear the big red A. God knows you deserve it. Or an S for sex fiend."
" It's already tattooed on my butt." replied a grinning Tristan.
"Oh I though that was a 666."
" That's on the other cheek."
Rory wrinkled her nose in disgust, sighed, and fell back on the couch arms spread out while staring at the ceiling.
" This is suffocating me already!" she wailed, throwing up papers like confetti.
"It's ok, I can do mouth to mouth." said Tristan smoothly, dropping next to her to join her in the ceiling watching.
"And I can do fist to mouth," replied Rory with a sweet malice.
"Bring it." was his only response.
Two hours later, 545 sexual innuendoes and 6 mugs of coffee later they had managed to finish the outline.
Satisfied, Rory leaned back on the couch and gave the paper a once over.
"Main Literature piece, Scarlet Letter. Setting, Boston Massachusetts. People, puritans. Special Events, Witch burning, On location trip, Salem, with Powerpoint presentation, historical research at Boston and Salem Archives, pictures, and finally, the written conclusion report."
"Sounds good to me. With all the stuff you've go planned, you'll be seeing me everyday after school."
"Unfortunately, and hopefully never after that."
"Ouch, Rory, after two hours of battle you think you'd have mellowed."
"It's the coffee." smiled Rory.
"Either that or I really annoy you."
"Yeah, you're right. Why lie to spare your feelings?"
"Why tell me the answer today in class to spare me humiliation?" answered Tristan softly, his cocky attitude suddenly gone.
A short silence ensued between the two, as they sat on the couch separated by papers and books; golden lamplight pooled the shadows on her innocent face and his handsome features. A moment of awkwardness arose as they both undoubtedly remembered that uncertain, beautiful kiss so deeply buried away....
Shrugging, Rory shattered the quiet spell of the moment as she bounced up.
"I felt sorry for your pathetic ass. You were obviously too tired from the previous night's exertion with your current conquest to focus on the classwork...."
She felt a slight shiver when she heard his quiet answer as she disappeared into the kitchen.
"I wish you wouldn't say things like that sometimes...."
Hesitating , she stuck her head back in the living room."
"Why, she broke up with you and shattered your heart?"
His head turned quickly, his intense look unnerving.
"I haven't talked to anyone really since May." he answered softly, and then went back to diligently answering history problems.
Rory stood in the kitchen doorway, for once with nothing to say.
The days continued; hours of frustrating research, frustrating conversation, sharp repartee and sly insults accompanied by sexual comments aimed from every imaginable angle that were slammed back into Tristan's face. They fought, they argued, they bitched, the wrote notes and copied papers and found phone numbers ; slowly but surely, the project began taking shape. Every idea was covered, every topic explored. But where the research ended, the fighting did not.
"You live too damn far away," grumbled Rory as they stepped into his mansion.
Suddenly speechless, Rory gazed around at the marvelous decor and expensive furnishings; Tristan watched her amusedly as she tried to assume an indifferent air.
"Do you ever get lost in here?" she asked timidly as they walked through a series of hallways.
"Sometimes," he replied somberly. "In here," he said, and they walked into a huge bedroom.
Papers and parts of the project lay scattered on the floor along with a few clothes, a sports bag, and various other things that the blond boy kicked to the side clearing a huge space in the middle.
Uncomfortable, Rory glanced around.
"Couldn't we work in the living room?"
Tristan grinned.
"What, and pass up the chance to tell everyone Rory Gilmore was in my bedroom for two hours?"
The look the girl shot him was all pins and needles. Reluctantly, he gathered everything and they went downstairs.
After one hour of frustrating work, only made more difficult by their constant bickering, the argument was heating up.
"And how the hell are we supposed to get on location! We can't drive to freakin' Salem!"
"And why the hell not?"
"It's too damn far!" screamed Rory, throwing a book down.
"And? Two hours in a car more than you can handle? Do you want an A or not? This is your project too!" yelled back Tristan, frustrated, running his hands through his hair.
The room was thick with tension; the boy let his hand drop from his hair, and Rory stared at him for a second.
The unmistakable current ran through her as she regarded his features; the bedhead and the defiant eyes, the warm mouth twisted in that sneer, his fingers tapping on the table. Suddenly, nervousness hit her.
"I've had enough of you!" she spat, stomping out.
"Fine! Walk out! But you know you have no idea where you are in my house!"
"Oh right, where's the maps with the dot that say you are here? Shouldn't you have one by every door? I'm sure you could afford them!" he heard her sarcastic yell.
Her footsteps stopped after half a minute; Tristan listened to the silence in amusement.
Following her, he found her frustratedly coming out of one room and dissapearing into the pool room.
"Dammit," he heard her mutter as he entered the pool room.
"Willing to admit you're lost and chill out?" smirked Tristan, confident and assured.
"I don't need to chill out." she growled, but he just got nearer.
"I think you do," grinned Tristan and kept advancing.
"Tristan......"she sighed. "Why do we fight like a cat and a dog locked in one pet carrier for seven hours on an international flight?"
The boy just smirked, and got even closer. Taking her chin in his hand, he approached her, and in a trademark bedroom tone, whispered out the inevitable answer.
"Sexual tension, don't you think?"
Nervous, she stepped back.
Much to her misfortune, she failed to notice the edge of the pool behind her.
Grabbing on to his hand wildly as she flew through the air, she managed to bring him in with her; the next few seconds were a confused mass of swirling bubbles and blue pool water. They fought under the water, neither one leaving a moment unnoticed; a moment where his arms wrapped around her tightly as he held her down, and she wrapped her legs around him. Deep underneath the cool blue depths, there was no sound, no sight, just touch, and the touch of his fingers as they grazed the bare skin of her stomach where her shirt floated up sent a current through both of them.
Bursting to the surface, gasping, Rory smacked the unexpecting Tristan.
"Enjoy your swim?"
"I have no other clothes, you idiot! Do you think this is funny?" was her angry response as she splashed water over his face.
A water fight ensued as the two battled in the pool, and finally burst to the surface again.
Closer than expected or measured.
Their faces so close he could feel her warm breath brush across his cheek; mesmerized, she studied the water droplets on his eyelashes, watching them trail down to his mouth.
Suddenly, they both started laughing.
"I hate you," said Rory ruefully looking down at her dripping clothes.
"Sounds familiar and good," replied the blond boy. "Want me to put your clothes in the dryer?"
"That'd be nice," she said truthfully.
They made their way through the maze to his room; shivering, she took in the surroundings with interest.
"Y-you like R-r-red Hot Chili P-peppers too?" she asked through chattering teeth.
"I know I'm a god but I'm also human. Try to understand." he grinned in reply.
"And we're both 49'rs f-fans!" she smiled, seeing the poster.
"As well as 69'ers...."
"Speak for yourself," she said sharply in his direction. Mentally, he berated himself. He'd just been making some progress.
"Sorry. Here's some clothes to wear till yours dry out."
"Hope they're not bits and pieces of what other girls forgot here" commented Rory dryly.
"No such luck. But there's some clean, warm sweats and one of my wifebeaters......."
"Can do." she chattered and disappeared into the bathroom.
Chuckling to himself, he watched the frozen girl slam the door shut, and wished he could be the one to warm her. Sighing, he flopped down on his bed and stared at the ceiling. He was so deep in though he never heard the footsteps approaching.
A slender form landed next to him on the bed, her hair splaying out over the down bedspread. Resisting the urge to make a lewd comment, he simply smiled at her and got a much better response.
"Funny, I would've thought you'd have said something raunchy about me being on your bed by now," she replied after a few minutes of ceiling gazing.
"Funny, I still can't believe it's true," he said back truthfully, taking her off guard.
In the room, the deepening shadows of twilight brushed over the two figures that lay there in silence. He allowed his eyes to discreetly travel the length of her, his mouth suddenly dry; it was the way that the thin, white tank clung to her figure, gently sloping in the concave of her stomach........the way the baggy sweats rode low, clinging to the rounded curve of her backside......her tiny toes peeking out from the bottom of the pants........
Tristan DuGrey recognized desire when he felt it. But there was something more to this, ......because, all of a sudden he felt scared again, new to everything; she made him feel fresh as though he'd never touched another girl before. But at the same time, he wanted nothing more than to curve his arms around her slender figure and feel all her warmth seep into him. The clean, fresh shower scent tantalized him, and her fingers found their way into his own.
"You're so cold," were the words out of her mouth, filled with a little wonder, as though she'd never been cold before.
Rory hadn't missed the opportunity to sneak a look either. She realized the complications......the fact, that should she touch him, she might not want to stop. Maybe it was the lean, lightly muscled body, his framework taut like any athlete's; maybe it was the vulnerable look on his handsome face, making him look like just a boy......the soft, downy, ever-tousled blond hair....
She slipped her fingers into his for a second, feeling the pain in his eyes; then, it was gone again.
"Yeah, I should take a shower and warm up and then we should probably go back to studying."
Rory nodded, and locked away the little moment, buried it.
"Just not now....." he said quietly, so low she barely caught it.
"I don't hate you." her voice rang out softly but clearly.
The boy's head perked up suddenly, watching her curiously.
"I lied that day. I didn't know better. I don't hate you. And I...."
"don't love him?" Tristan finished the sentence, careful.
Rory nodded ruefully, turning on her side to face him.
"Forgive?" she asked simply, and he fought the urge to touch her face.
"Forgiven," he answered, and the two just lay in the semi-dark and smiled.
"You know," continued Rory, "You're not half bad when you're not being yourself...."
The words hurt him, but the outside showed no effect; he managed to smile the trademark grin.
"Is that your way of saying I'm desperately in love with you and I want you right now?" he smirked.
She giggled, and jumped off the bed.
"That's more like you. Let's go finish this."
{********************}
Alright! next week coming up, trip to Salem, but they might not make it home that day.....small space, too much tension, all that fun stuff....could potentially turn out good or disastrous, opinions and critique welcome. Keep reading!
