Tristan slowed to a crawl as he approached the classroom, exhaling wearily. It was ironic that he had once looked forward to this class all morning, eagerly anticipating his first sight of Rory. He had prized the opportunity to observe her, savored the chance to study her movements, the slope of her shoulders, the shifting shades of her hair. Now the very thought exhausted him. Was that actually ironic, or Alanis-Morisette-ironic? Rory would know.
He had never known how to act around her. At first, he had found it impossible to overcome the years of conditioning that told him to treat her merely as a woman, something to be won, or bought, and possessed. Later he had found it impossible to overcome the low opinion of him she held – the opinion that his actions had given her. He hadn't had to work to hide his changing feelings from her; he had just maintained the façade he had hidden behind for as long as he could remember.
Now he had voluntarily stripped himself of that shield, cut off his retreat. And he didn't know how to act around her. He wasn't going to be a jerk anymore, he had promised himself that. But what did that leave him with? He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, displaying his desire; he didn't want to ignore her, taking refuge in another variety of loutish behavior.
He swung into the room, making his way swiftly towards his desk. She smiled at him as he passed, and he smiled back. That was it, all he could do, take his cues from her, and hope he read her right. He hadn't had too much luck with that in the past, but he didn't see what other choice he had. It was times like these that he really wished that he had a girl friend.
He busied himself with his books, ignoring Paris' pointed stare, but she wasn't to be rebuffed.
"So, Tristan." Madeline leaned over, not wanting to miss anything. "You're coming to that thing at the Johnson's next week. My mother's forcing me to go. I couldn't believe it when she told me. 'Debutante' is hardly something that's going to impress Harvard; I'll probably leave it off my transcript entirely. What a waste of time. I do get to go with Edward, though. I hear you're going with Rory Gilmore. How did that happen?"
Was she asking how he had convinced Rory to voluntarily be seen in public with him? "Our grandparents set it up."
"Right, I know how close they are. Madeline says that Rory took her boyfriend to the last ball. Why is she taking you to this one?"
"How did you get her to ditch him for you? Or did he dump her?"
Thanks, Madeline. Tristan knew that Rory and Dean had broken up, but she was sitting right in front of him. He couldn't answer that question as if she wasn't here. She saved him the trouble, rounding on them.
"We broke up."
"Wow. He was hot. I'm sorry." Madeline smiled sadly at Rory, but perked back up as she asked the important question. "Do you have another boyfriend yet?"
"No."
Not yet. That would change soon, if Jess had anything to do with it. Tristan hadn't missed the way Jess' eyes had remained on Rory as he moved around the diner, or the way his attention had affected her.
Madeline drooped again. "I'm sorry."
"It's not like her dog died." Everyone looked at Paris in surprise. "What? She's not making a big deal out of it, so accept that it's not a big deal to her, and move on. If you had been able to do that, you might have been able to get a date for the winter formal, Madeline."
Madeline ignored the pot shot. "Anyway, it's okay, because Tristan is hotter."
"It's all right that I broke up with my boyfriend because my replacement date is hotter? Who am I talking to, of course it is."
"You're so lucky to be going with Tristan, all the girls in the school are jealous."
"I know."
She did? Wait, she knew what, that she was lucky, or that all the girls were jealous? That made a big difference; knowing she was envied and admitting that it was with reason were two entirely--
Just because Jess liked her didn't mean that the feeling was reciprocated. Tristan was evidence enough of that. Maybe – But he was doing it again, jumping on non-existent evidence of her feelings for him. She did think of him as her date. That hadn't even occurred to him. He was going on a date with Rory…. Stop. Just stop.
They were talking over him, as if he wasn't there. "I'm going with my mother's bridge partner's son. He's got dandruff and tiny feet."
"I'm sorry."
"Thanks." Madeline sighed in resignation. "I have to take him, his mother's desperate, but maybe I can pick somebody else up there. You do know how lucky you are, right?"
"Mmm." Rory faced the front of the class as the teacher entered; Tristan's heart leapt.
That was agreement, right? She was agreeing that she was lucky to be partnered with him; saying that she wanted to be escorted by him. No, that was refining too much upon it. She didn't want to go with him, she just…. had no objection to it.
Tristan couldn't deny the hope that was blossoming in his chest, even as he knew he would only be disappointed again. He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her, so badly that he could taste it.
This was why he had kept away from her last semester. She had hurt him too much already, and he knew she would do it again. He couldn't interpret the signals she was sending. He had told himself repeatedly that she just wanted to be his friend, and when he finally convinced himself to accept it, she changed the rules, made a comment that suggested otherwise. It was too confusing. He couldn't tell if she just thought that he was a nice person, or if she wanted something more. If she did think that he was a nice person –
No. Friends. Just friends. He would act like it was what they both wanted, but he didn't think that he would be able to persuade himself that it was true.
He had never known how to act around her. At first, he had found it impossible to overcome the years of conditioning that told him to treat her merely as a woman, something to be won, or bought, and possessed. Later he had found it impossible to overcome the low opinion of him she held – the opinion that his actions had given her. He hadn't had to work to hide his changing feelings from her; he had just maintained the façade he had hidden behind for as long as he could remember.
Now he had voluntarily stripped himself of that shield, cut off his retreat. And he didn't know how to act around her. He wasn't going to be a jerk anymore, he had promised himself that. But what did that leave him with? He didn't want to make her uncomfortable, displaying his desire; he didn't want to ignore her, taking refuge in another variety of loutish behavior.
He swung into the room, making his way swiftly towards his desk. She smiled at him as he passed, and he smiled back. That was it, all he could do, take his cues from her, and hope he read her right. He hadn't had too much luck with that in the past, but he didn't see what other choice he had. It was times like these that he really wished that he had a girl friend.
He busied himself with his books, ignoring Paris' pointed stare, but she wasn't to be rebuffed.
"So, Tristan." Madeline leaned over, not wanting to miss anything. "You're coming to that thing at the Johnson's next week. My mother's forcing me to go. I couldn't believe it when she told me. 'Debutante' is hardly something that's going to impress Harvard; I'll probably leave it off my transcript entirely. What a waste of time. I do get to go with Edward, though. I hear you're going with Rory Gilmore. How did that happen?"
Was she asking how he had convinced Rory to voluntarily be seen in public with him? "Our grandparents set it up."
"Right, I know how close they are. Madeline says that Rory took her boyfriend to the last ball. Why is she taking you to this one?"
"How did you get her to ditch him for you? Or did he dump her?"
Thanks, Madeline. Tristan knew that Rory and Dean had broken up, but she was sitting right in front of him. He couldn't answer that question as if she wasn't here. She saved him the trouble, rounding on them.
"We broke up."
"Wow. He was hot. I'm sorry." Madeline smiled sadly at Rory, but perked back up as she asked the important question. "Do you have another boyfriend yet?"
"No."
Not yet. That would change soon, if Jess had anything to do with it. Tristan hadn't missed the way Jess' eyes had remained on Rory as he moved around the diner, or the way his attention had affected her.
Madeline drooped again. "I'm sorry."
"It's not like her dog died." Everyone looked at Paris in surprise. "What? She's not making a big deal out of it, so accept that it's not a big deal to her, and move on. If you had been able to do that, you might have been able to get a date for the winter formal, Madeline."
Madeline ignored the pot shot. "Anyway, it's okay, because Tristan is hotter."
"It's all right that I broke up with my boyfriend because my replacement date is hotter? Who am I talking to, of course it is."
"You're so lucky to be going with Tristan, all the girls in the school are jealous."
"I know."
She did? Wait, she knew what, that she was lucky, or that all the girls were jealous? That made a big difference; knowing she was envied and admitting that it was with reason were two entirely--
Just because Jess liked her didn't mean that the feeling was reciprocated. Tristan was evidence enough of that. Maybe – But he was doing it again, jumping on non-existent evidence of her feelings for him. She did think of him as her date. That hadn't even occurred to him. He was going on a date with Rory…. Stop. Just stop.
They were talking over him, as if he wasn't there. "I'm going with my mother's bridge partner's son. He's got dandruff and tiny feet."
"I'm sorry."
"Thanks." Madeline sighed in resignation. "I have to take him, his mother's desperate, but maybe I can pick somebody else up there. You do know how lucky you are, right?"
"Mmm." Rory faced the front of the class as the teacher entered; Tristan's heart leapt.
That was agreement, right? She was agreeing that she was lucky to be partnered with him; saying that she wanted to be escorted by him. No, that was refining too much upon it. She didn't want to go with him, she just…. had no objection to it.
Tristan couldn't deny the hope that was blossoming in his chest, even as he knew he would only be disappointed again. He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her, so badly that he could taste it.
This was why he had kept away from her last semester. She had hurt him too much already, and he knew she would do it again. He couldn't interpret the signals she was sending. He had told himself repeatedly that she just wanted to be his friend, and when he finally convinced himself to accept it, she changed the rules, made a comment that suggested otherwise. It was too confusing. He couldn't tell if she just thought that he was a nice person, or if she wanted something more. If she did think that he was a nice person –
No. Friends. Just friends. He would act like it was what they both wanted, but he didn't think that he would be able to persuade himself that it was true.