Rory stumbled down the stairs, shoving her runners onto her feet on the bottom step.
"I still say there's no point rehearsing in those if you're going to be dancing in stilettos on the day."
"They are not stilettos."
"They could be."
"I don't have time to discuss this again, I'm late. I'll see you in an hour."
"Rory!"
Rory stuck her head back in the front door, annoyed. "What?"
"Why don't you bring Tristan to Luke's afterwards, he can eat with us."
"What? Why?"
"So I won't go over there with you right now and glare menacingly at him every time he gets within six feet of you."
"Why do you want him to eat with us?"
"I want him to see for himself that if I'm forced to kill him there isn't a person in this town that won't give me an alibi."
"Mom, Tristan is not going to do anything that would make you mad. Well not to me, because I won't let him. There's no reason for you to warn him off!"
"Uh huh. Be there by eight-fifteen."
"I don't want him to come."
"He probably won't want to come, but you're going to ask."
"If I ask, he'll think I want him to come. He'll think I want him to meet my mother!"
"You know, I think Dad may actually have a shotgun, for lemming hunting season or something. I'm sure he'd be willing to lend it to me. I could bring it to your next lesson."
"Fine, I'll ask, goodbye."
Rory slammed the door behind her, and took off down the street. Maybe Tristan had gotten lost, or had misplaced his smirk, and was running late. She didn't want to think about what Miss Patty would say to him if she wasn't there to run interference. She didn't want to wonder whether Miss Patty would just come on to him, or would give him advice on his love-life -- namely Rory. Yesterday Miss Patty's imagination had seemed to be running to the latter.
She slowed to a brisk walk, trying to get her breathing under control as she passed Tristan's car and entered the building. Miss Patty had taken quite the fancy to Tristan, Rory noted with relief. She was swirling him around the room, his torso tucked between her arm and her chest, ignoring his scrambles to stay on his feet, casually thwarting his struggles to escape. Rory dropped to the floor, and watched in amusement. They were both much too engrossed in their tasks to notice her.
She was slightly nervous about asking Tristan to come to Luke's. Despite what she had claimed earlier, she wasn't afraid of what he would say about her wanting him, although she was sure that he would say it. But she could imagine all too well what Lorelai would say to him. If Luke didn't refuse to serve him first. She needed to be on good terms with him until all this was over. After that her mother could say anything she pleased. Even as she thought that, she knew she didn't mean it. She didn't want her mother to lay into Tristan. Because whatever she said, would be untrue. He wasn't evil; he was just, young. She knew something about that.
Miss Patty dipped Tristan, and spotted Rory. "There you are, we thought you'd never get here. Zack! Zack!" Tristan gazed at Rory hopefully, still bent over Miss Patty's arm. Young mens' hopes never lasted long around Miss Patty. "Zack's going to be dancing with you. You can copy our steps. He's only twelve, but he's tall."
For the next forty minutes, they slid around the studio with Miss Patty shouting encouragement and imprecations at them in equal measure. Zack was patient and non-threatening, and soon set Rory at ease. She didn't trip once, and considered it a major achievement.
"All right, all right," Miss Patty finally wheezed, skidding to a stop. "Let's see how you look together."
Rory stepped towards Tristan confidently, but faltered when she saw his blank expression. It hadn't occurred to her that he wasn't enjoying himself. She hoped that he wasn't mad at her about Miss Patty. She hadn't intended this to be any more of an unpleasant experience for him than it had to be. He hadn't wanted to come at all; maybe he was bored out of his mind, and irritated with her for dragging him here.
"Come on, come on, it's almost Zack's bedtime!" Miss Patty glanced at her watch.
Rory closed the gap, putting her hands on Tristan's waist and staring straight ahead. His mouth was at her eye level, and she quickly looked down at his chest. He was wearing a blue long-sleeved t-shirt; it was soft and loose around his stomach, sliding under her hands.
"No, your hands around his neck, his around your waist. We've done this, come on!"
Rory lifted her hands and placed them carefully on his shoulders. His muscles shifted as he circled her waist and began to move, directing her about the dancefloor. She could feel the heat of his body seeping through the thin cloth, into her hands, hear Miss Patty beating out the rhythm they were moving to. He would be a good dancer, she thought. He wasn't polished, but he moved well, with a raw grace. He executed the simple steps they had learnt competently, better than she was. If he kept taking lessons--
Miss Patty echoed her thought. "You keep coming back here, hun, and soon you'll lead so well you'll make that girl look good out there. Okay, let's go, his mother's gonna kill me."
She swept them out, locked the door, exchanged hurried goodbyes, and dragged Zack off.
Rory looked up at Tristan. It was odd how the half-light made everything look deeper: his eyes, the crease of his lips. She still had to ask him. She had meant to do it earlier, but it had proved to be more difficult than she'd expected. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself, and opened her mouth, but he spoke before she could.
"Can I drive you home."
"Oh no, it's very close. But I'm not going there, I'm going to the diner to get something to eat. Do you want to come?" She couldn't read the expression in his eyes, but the shadows suddenly made him look stark and forbidding. He started to reply, but she cut him off. "My mom sends her apologies for not attending our first practice, and requests your presence so that she can humiliate you in a public forum." It was the truth. It had been.
"So everyone gets to poke fun at me, not just her? Sure, why not. Get in the car."
"What gave me away? My chattering teeth?"
"Your blue fingers. It's not spring in the Bahamas, Rory; get a jacket."
"I was in a hurry."
"I still say there's no point rehearsing in those if you're going to be dancing in stilettos on the day."
"They are not stilettos."
"They could be."
"I don't have time to discuss this again, I'm late. I'll see you in an hour."
"Rory!"
Rory stuck her head back in the front door, annoyed. "What?"
"Why don't you bring Tristan to Luke's afterwards, he can eat with us."
"What? Why?"
"So I won't go over there with you right now and glare menacingly at him every time he gets within six feet of you."
"Why do you want him to eat with us?"
"I want him to see for himself that if I'm forced to kill him there isn't a person in this town that won't give me an alibi."
"Mom, Tristan is not going to do anything that would make you mad. Well not to me, because I won't let him. There's no reason for you to warn him off!"
"Uh huh. Be there by eight-fifteen."
"I don't want him to come."
"He probably won't want to come, but you're going to ask."
"If I ask, he'll think I want him to come. He'll think I want him to meet my mother!"
"You know, I think Dad may actually have a shotgun, for lemming hunting season or something. I'm sure he'd be willing to lend it to me. I could bring it to your next lesson."
"Fine, I'll ask, goodbye."
Rory slammed the door behind her, and took off down the street. Maybe Tristan had gotten lost, or had misplaced his smirk, and was running late. She didn't want to think about what Miss Patty would say to him if she wasn't there to run interference. She didn't want to wonder whether Miss Patty would just come on to him, or would give him advice on his love-life -- namely Rory. Yesterday Miss Patty's imagination had seemed to be running to the latter.
She slowed to a brisk walk, trying to get her breathing under control as she passed Tristan's car and entered the building. Miss Patty had taken quite the fancy to Tristan, Rory noted with relief. She was swirling him around the room, his torso tucked between her arm and her chest, ignoring his scrambles to stay on his feet, casually thwarting his struggles to escape. Rory dropped to the floor, and watched in amusement. They were both much too engrossed in their tasks to notice her.
She was slightly nervous about asking Tristan to come to Luke's. Despite what she had claimed earlier, she wasn't afraid of what he would say about her wanting him, although she was sure that he would say it. But she could imagine all too well what Lorelai would say to him. If Luke didn't refuse to serve him first. She needed to be on good terms with him until all this was over. After that her mother could say anything she pleased. Even as she thought that, she knew she didn't mean it. She didn't want her mother to lay into Tristan. Because whatever she said, would be untrue. He wasn't evil; he was just, young. She knew something about that.
Miss Patty dipped Tristan, and spotted Rory. "There you are, we thought you'd never get here. Zack! Zack!" Tristan gazed at Rory hopefully, still bent over Miss Patty's arm. Young mens' hopes never lasted long around Miss Patty. "Zack's going to be dancing with you. You can copy our steps. He's only twelve, but he's tall."
For the next forty minutes, they slid around the studio with Miss Patty shouting encouragement and imprecations at them in equal measure. Zack was patient and non-threatening, and soon set Rory at ease. She didn't trip once, and considered it a major achievement.
"All right, all right," Miss Patty finally wheezed, skidding to a stop. "Let's see how you look together."
Rory stepped towards Tristan confidently, but faltered when she saw his blank expression. It hadn't occurred to her that he wasn't enjoying himself. She hoped that he wasn't mad at her about Miss Patty. She hadn't intended this to be any more of an unpleasant experience for him than it had to be. He hadn't wanted to come at all; maybe he was bored out of his mind, and irritated with her for dragging him here.
"Come on, come on, it's almost Zack's bedtime!" Miss Patty glanced at her watch.
Rory closed the gap, putting her hands on Tristan's waist and staring straight ahead. His mouth was at her eye level, and she quickly looked down at his chest. He was wearing a blue long-sleeved t-shirt; it was soft and loose around his stomach, sliding under her hands.
"No, your hands around his neck, his around your waist. We've done this, come on!"
Rory lifted her hands and placed them carefully on his shoulders. His muscles shifted as he circled her waist and began to move, directing her about the dancefloor. She could feel the heat of his body seeping through the thin cloth, into her hands, hear Miss Patty beating out the rhythm they were moving to. He would be a good dancer, she thought. He wasn't polished, but he moved well, with a raw grace. He executed the simple steps they had learnt competently, better than she was. If he kept taking lessons--
Miss Patty echoed her thought. "You keep coming back here, hun, and soon you'll lead so well you'll make that girl look good out there. Okay, let's go, his mother's gonna kill me."
She swept them out, locked the door, exchanged hurried goodbyes, and dragged Zack off.
Rory looked up at Tristan. It was odd how the half-light made everything look deeper: his eyes, the crease of his lips. She still had to ask him. She had meant to do it earlier, but it had proved to be more difficult than she'd expected. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself, and opened her mouth, but he spoke before she could.
"Can I drive you home."
"Oh no, it's very close. But I'm not going there, I'm going to the diner to get something to eat. Do you want to come?" She couldn't read the expression in his eyes, but the shadows suddenly made him look stark and forbidding. He started to reply, but she cut him off. "My mom sends her apologies for not attending our first practice, and requests your presence so that she can humiliate you in a public forum." It was the truth. It had been.
"So everyone gets to poke fun at me, not just her? Sure, why not. Get in the car."
"What gave me away? My chattering teeth?"
"Your blue fingers. It's not spring in the Bahamas, Rory; get a jacket."
"I was in a hurry."