A.N.: I'm so sorry I haven't been updating enough. Loads and loads of work
got in my way, but I'm going to write more frequently now that I'm just
about finished with my simultaneous three projects. *_* BTW I guess I
didn't make this clear, but Tristan was not nude in the last chapter. He's
wearing swimming trunks. LoL I can just hear the millions of sighs around
the world. Lemme tell you, I'm right there with you. This section of the
plot was supposed to be a V-Day special, so it'll be kinda weird seeing as
how V-day is over…Newayz, my silent goal that I never told anyone about was
to have my name on someone's fav author/story list and I finally found
someone who put my name on theirs! Ahahah It's almost too good to be true.
Thank you so much CharliesAngel! It made my day! This one's for you.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Rory, where'd you go last night? You never came back." Summer commented as they doused the fire. Dawn had just come, and many of the girls were rubbing sleep out of their eyes.
"You didn't seem to notice when you and Austin were playing around in the bushes…" Mindy lulled knowingly.
Summer cleared her throat and placed the bucket down. "I didn't see Tristan anywhere either. It's so strange. He's always with the guys."
Rory looked away, wringing her hands nervously.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Paris stormed up the step to the cottage. Looking up, she scowled. The sky was only sparsely dotted with clouds, and she scoffed. These perfect looking days were only a pretext. Why would idiot birds chirp merrily as if it were the most wonderful thing in the world that the sky was bright blue? She was about to fling the door open when a flash of red caught her eye. Rotating slightly, she pulled a heart-shaped box off the bench, examining it closely. To her surprise, on the envelope scrawled messily was her name. Her curiosity was jump-started, and she entered the cottage distractedly, settling down on her bed. Cautiously, she opened the letter attached to the candies.
Paris,
I've been thinking a lot about you lately. I've known you for so many years and you've always been there for me, but I never appreciated you. Come down to the lake tonight at nine thirty and let me show you how much you mean to me.
-Tristan
She reread it again and pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Sighing, she laid down on the bed. Nine thirty would be right in the middle of the dance, but what did she care? She'd never liked dancing anyway. Her mother had always told her that she had two left feet, so to speak. A click resounded, and Paris looked up to see Rory.
"Hey, Rory. Nice morning out there today, huh? I thought you were out with Summer. What brings you here?"
Rory quickly traversed the few feet separating them and placed a tepid hand on Paris's forehead.
"Are you feeling alright?"
"Fine, just fine." She lightly removed Rory's hand from her face and got up, skipping, as it looked, out the door.
Rory glanced uneasily after her. Since when did Paris skip? The Paris Gellar she knew did NOT skip, much less comment on how nice the weather was. Her thoughts kept her from noticing the cherry red box peeking out from under the covers of Paris's bed.
"It really sucks that you can't come to the dance. You didn't even do anything wrong. Well, you hadn't yet." Summer hitched the hem of her skirt up a little.
"Yeah, I know," Rory puffed. "Guess you'll just have to have enough fun for the both of us."
Summer grinned impishly as she put the finishing touches on her make-up. "Oh believe me, I will."
When she had completed her ensemble, Madeline and Rory separated ways-one to the site of loud music blaring incessantly and the other to the comfort of her silent cabin. Rory reached for the door to the cottage, but someone beat her to it.
"Paris?" Stepping into the gathering darkness, Paris genially hugged her.
"Rory! I'm so sorry you can't come to the dance. I'll tell you all about it, though."
"O-okay." She hesitantly hugged her back.
Bouncing off exuberantly, Paris slipped into the cool evening. The dance was to be held at the next campsite. Bracing herself for three hours of boredom, Rory flicked on the lights in the cottage and plopped down onto the bed, pulling out a hidden stack of magazines. She was in the same position when Paris came back in an hour and a half later, sobbing hysterically. Shaken at the sight of Paris crying, Rory sat stock-still. Paris glared at her between racking sobs.
"This must b-be a great m-moment for you, Gilmore," she snapped.
Rory let that slide, seeing as how she was in a fragile state. "Doesn't the dance go on for another hour and a half? Tell me what happened."
Paris only turned her head away and buried it in her pillow. The rest of the night she was silent and sullen despite Rory's efforts to cheer her. After many resisted attempts, Rory gave up and fell to reading magazines again until it was time for bed. The moon was already shining bright before either spoke again.
"It was just a trick."
Tossing and turning in her bed, Rory at first thought she had imagined a voice. Only when it was repeated again did she realize that it wasn't a figment of her imagination.
"What was just a trick?"
"He was only playing with me."
"Who is he?" Trust Paris to be cryptic even when she was down in the dumps.
"Tristan."
At this, Rory came upright as if magnetized. Though she refused to admit it, anything involving Tristan intrigued her.
"What did he do?"
Paris hesitated, and Rory could almost see the battle warring in Paris's head. After a long stretch of dinning quiet, she summoned the courage to speak again. Her words came pouring out quickly as she spilled her heart to the girl she had once considered her most dangerous rival.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Rory, where'd you go last night? You never came back." Summer commented as they doused the fire. Dawn had just come, and many of the girls were rubbing sleep out of their eyes.
"You didn't seem to notice when you and Austin were playing around in the bushes…" Mindy lulled knowingly.
Summer cleared her throat and placed the bucket down. "I didn't see Tristan anywhere either. It's so strange. He's always with the guys."
Rory looked away, wringing her hands nervously.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Paris stormed up the step to the cottage. Looking up, she scowled. The sky was only sparsely dotted with clouds, and she scoffed. These perfect looking days were only a pretext. Why would idiot birds chirp merrily as if it were the most wonderful thing in the world that the sky was bright blue? She was about to fling the door open when a flash of red caught her eye. Rotating slightly, she pulled a heart-shaped box off the bench, examining it closely. To her surprise, on the envelope scrawled messily was her name. Her curiosity was jump-started, and she entered the cottage distractedly, settling down on her bed. Cautiously, she opened the letter attached to the candies.
Paris,
I've been thinking a lot about you lately. I've known you for so many years and you've always been there for me, but I never appreciated you. Come down to the lake tonight at nine thirty and let me show you how much you mean to me.
-Tristan
She reread it again and pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming. Sighing, she laid down on the bed. Nine thirty would be right in the middle of the dance, but what did she care? She'd never liked dancing anyway. Her mother had always told her that she had two left feet, so to speak. A click resounded, and Paris looked up to see Rory.
"Hey, Rory. Nice morning out there today, huh? I thought you were out with Summer. What brings you here?"
Rory quickly traversed the few feet separating them and placed a tepid hand on Paris's forehead.
"Are you feeling alright?"
"Fine, just fine." She lightly removed Rory's hand from her face and got up, skipping, as it looked, out the door.
Rory glanced uneasily after her. Since when did Paris skip? The Paris Gellar she knew did NOT skip, much less comment on how nice the weather was. Her thoughts kept her from noticing the cherry red box peeking out from under the covers of Paris's bed.
"It really sucks that you can't come to the dance. You didn't even do anything wrong. Well, you hadn't yet." Summer hitched the hem of her skirt up a little.
"Yeah, I know," Rory puffed. "Guess you'll just have to have enough fun for the both of us."
Summer grinned impishly as she put the finishing touches on her make-up. "Oh believe me, I will."
When she had completed her ensemble, Madeline and Rory separated ways-one to the site of loud music blaring incessantly and the other to the comfort of her silent cabin. Rory reached for the door to the cottage, but someone beat her to it.
"Paris?" Stepping into the gathering darkness, Paris genially hugged her.
"Rory! I'm so sorry you can't come to the dance. I'll tell you all about it, though."
"O-okay." She hesitantly hugged her back.
Bouncing off exuberantly, Paris slipped into the cool evening. The dance was to be held at the next campsite. Bracing herself for three hours of boredom, Rory flicked on the lights in the cottage and plopped down onto the bed, pulling out a hidden stack of magazines. She was in the same position when Paris came back in an hour and a half later, sobbing hysterically. Shaken at the sight of Paris crying, Rory sat stock-still. Paris glared at her between racking sobs.
"This must b-be a great m-moment for you, Gilmore," she snapped.
Rory let that slide, seeing as how she was in a fragile state. "Doesn't the dance go on for another hour and a half? Tell me what happened."
Paris only turned her head away and buried it in her pillow. The rest of the night she was silent and sullen despite Rory's efforts to cheer her. After many resisted attempts, Rory gave up and fell to reading magazines again until it was time for bed. The moon was already shining bright before either spoke again.
"It was just a trick."
Tossing and turning in her bed, Rory at first thought she had imagined a voice. Only when it was repeated again did she realize that it wasn't a figment of her imagination.
"What was just a trick?"
"He was only playing with me."
"Who is he?" Trust Paris to be cryptic even when she was down in the dumps.
"Tristan."
At this, Rory came upright as if magnetized. Though she refused to admit it, anything involving Tristan intrigued her.
"What did he do?"
Paris hesitated, and Rory could almost see the battle warring in Paris's head. After a long stretch of dinning quiet, she summoned the courage to speak again. Her words came pouring out quickly as she spilled her heart to the girl she had once considered her most dangerous rival.