Rory spent the first days of the next week avoiding Tristan at school, carefully planning out her routes so that they wouldn't meet in the hallways, or slipping into the room just before the bell rang if they were in the same class. She knew she couldn't put it off forever, and she wasn't trying to, she was just hoping against hope that he'd phone her instead of approaching her directly. It was much easier to conceal embarrassment over the telephone. Rory felt like she had asked her grandmother to get her a date, and was sure that Tristan would act as if he thought she had.

Her hope went unfulfilled, of course. Tristan surprised her at her locker after school on Wednesday. She had stayed late to study in the library, and assumed he had gone home. She was pulling her history book from the bottom of the thick stack of textbooks when she heard his voice behind her, saying her name, and she sprang round in surprise whacking him in the chest with the book. She stared at him in shock until she noticed the surprised expression on his face.

"Tristan. Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to…. What are you still doing here?"

"I'm in Spanish club."

"Right."

There was an awkward silence. At least he had waited until after school to ask her. She had had nightmares of him stopping her in the middle of the cafeteria, smirking while he asked her, with Paris, Louise, and Madeline looking on in disdain, talking about pity dates. Well, Paris probably wouldn't—

"So, you're a debutante."

"Yeah. My grandmother really wanted it, and I had no reason to refuse. I didn't want to do it, but that's not a reason to make her unhappy, so here I am. And there I will be." She shifted uncomfortably, tucking her hair behind her ear, avoiding his eyes.

"Me too. My first is next Saturday. I'm starting really late, but my mother only decided last week that she wanted me to do this, and my grandfather arranged it all so I could."

"That was very nice of him. To please your mother like that."

"Oh, no, he just wanted to torture me."

"You find a task the sole purpose of which is to objectify women an arduous chore? Exactly what have you been banging your head against?"

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

He hesitated. "I can't dance."

"You—" Rory tried to suppress her giggles, but the chagrin on his face was too much for her.

"That's not funny."

"Of course not."

"So stop laughing." She didn't. "Or not. Well, I'm glad I could brighten your day."

******************************************************************

He watched her gurgling with laughter, shaking her head at him in amusement, and waited patiently until she calmed down. He wasn't in any hurry to ask her to go to the ball with him. He wasn't sure she would say yes, although his grandfather had seemed pretty certain. He wasn't even sure he wanted her to say yes.

He had sworn to himself that he would leave her alone, keep his distance, for both their sakes. She didn't want him; he had to accept that. He had spent long enough trying to change her mind about him to know that she never would. He was bothering her, and it bothered him to be close to her with no chance of closing the distance between them. So he had made himself a promise that he wouldn't delude himself into believing that her smiles and friendliness meant she wanted something more. He had resolved to stay away from her. And now here he was. Asking her out.

She stopped laughing at him eventually, and smiled up at him repentantly. "I'm sorry, Tristan. I just assumed that, coming from the family you do, you'd have been able to dance before you could walk. I thought that as a kid you would have had dancing masters, and elocution teachers, and—"

"You think I need a speech therapist?"

"I didn't say that. It's not how you say things; it's what you say. Unless you're talking to me, then it usually is how you say things."

"On top of what I say."

"Right."

They fell silent. Might as well get it over with, no point in increasing the awkwardness by staring at her like a lovesick fool. He took a deep breath. "I was talking to my parents the other night, and they told me that you don't have an escort. So I was wondering if you'd like to go with me, as friends. Or you could look at it like a business deal, since we aren't actually friends."

She was shaking her head at him. His heart jumped, as his stomach sank to his knees. He ignored the stomach, praying she'd say no. He didn't want to go through this, he didn't. And if she said no, he might be able to sustain that lie. Or he might pick a fight with her date again. It was a toss-up.

"You don't have to pretend you want to take me Tristan. I know your parents are forcing you to ask me. You probably had the same conversation with your mother that I had with my grandmother. The 'good breeding, shiny eyes, glossy coat' one? I know why you're asking, and you know why I'm agreeing."

******************************************************************

Rory watched with detached interest as his face fell. She had known he wouldn't be ecstatic, but hadn't imagined he'd be so disappointed. For some reason it bothered her, and that bothered her even more.

"I'm sorry, if you had someone you wanted to take."

"Oh no, not at all," he replied, totally insincerely.

Rory frowned up at him. He looked so dejected it was almost insulting, his eyes cast down, his mouth tight. She was sure there was some other girl he wanted to take, but she hadn't expected his reaction to be this negative. If nothing else, he could boast that he had finally gotten Rory Gilmore to go out with him. He must really be upset, and against her better judgement, she felt sorry for him.

"Hey, you want to get dance lessons together?" She wanted to take it back the second it left her mouth, but it was too late. He stared at her in surprise, probably at her presumption, and she hurried on. "There's a dance studio near my house," oh, God, no, why was she inviting him to her town? "and I had been planning to get some lessons there before next week. You could come with me."

"I don't think that would be a good idea."

"Why not?" Why hadn't she taken the out? Why had she asked that question? What had she expected him to say to that? But she wanted to know the answer. He didn't reply, so she forged onwards. "We have more than a week to practice, but Miss Patty isn't confident she'll train me out of tripping over my own feet in that time. Not tripping over your partner's feet is the advanced class, so if we don't want to make a spectacle of ourselves, this would be a good idea." He didn't look convinced, and she wanted him to agree, so she could stop talking, go home, and hide her head under her pillow. She added defiantly, "And my mother will ridicule and harass you, and I'll have fun watching."

He seemed to relax, and nodded slowly. "I'll call you tonight and find out when. See you tomorrow, Rory."

He left, and she watched the doors swing closed behind him, wondering what on earth she had just done.