Something To Remember
by inmyeyes
Part 13
"Hello friend," came the teasing voice from behind him.
Tristan closed his locker and turned to face her, smiling. "Hello Mary." He noticed the cup of coffee in her hands. "I see you're in a good mood."
Rory grinned in reply and held up the cup in a toast before taking a large gulp. "Yup, I'm in a fabulous mood."
As the pair walked down the hallway, Tristan casually slung his arm around her shoulder. "Why? Is that a double expresso?"
She rolled her eyes good-naturedly, shrugging off his arm as she finished off the coffee and threw the cup in a nearby bin. "Coffee's not the only thing that makes me happy, you know," she pointed out.
His grin widened, and she just knew that the words that would leave his lips would make her roll her eyes again. He didn't fail her: "Nope, I make you happy too."
She snorted and shook her head, ignoring the pang in her heart that screamed out how much being near him really made her happy. "Hah! In your dreams, DuGrey."
"Every night, Rory... every night," he said, smiling to disguise the sliver of hurt in his eyes.
"Hey guys!" a perky voice from in front of them called out.
They stopped and turned, seeing Madeline wave them over from her spot near the lockers with Louise and Paris. Rory wanted to laugh at the annoyed expression on Paris' face but held it in; Paris had actually been civil to her... nice even and she was enjoying the peaceful co-existence between them. 'No need to spark off anything,' she reasoned. She gave herself a mental pat on the back for her right choice when Paris actually smiled at her.
"Hey, party at my house Saturday," Madeline announced when Tristan and Rory were in ear-shot, grinning widely.
"Dress to impress please," Louise suggested, her comment making both Rory and Paris roll her eyes. The two shared a look when Louise blatantly ran her eyes up and down Tristan's body and smiled slyly. Rory had to marvel at how well they were really getting along.
"Who are you planning to impress?" Tristan grinned lasciviously, arching his brow. Rory just snickered and smacked his chest.
Before Rory could say anything, Madeline had dug out a flyer and was handing it to her. "Come?"
"Oh, I don't know," Rory frowned.
"You can bring your boyfriend."
Tristan hid a grimace at the mention of "boyfriend" and ducked his head, trying to hide his expression. Moments later, when he looked up and affected a nonchalant look, his eyes caught Paris'. He saw her give a subtle shake of her head and smile sympathetically. He could do nothing but give her a rueful smile of his own.
"I'll see," Rory replied non-committedly.
"I'll be there," Tristan offered.
"Great!" Madeline chirped, as the bell rang.
He was waiting for her outside the front doors, fiddling with his tie as he impatiently tapped his foot. When he finally saw her dark head, he strode over to her.
"What took you so long?"
"Had to speak to Mrs Caldecott," she explained, tugging on the strap of her bag so that it rested more comfortably on her shoulder. "Why were you waiting for me?"
Sighing, he threaded his fingers through his hair, surprised at the nerves that were attacking him even in doing a simple thing like asking if she wanted to hang out with him. "Are you doing anything tomorrow afternoon? I thought we could watch a movie or whatever."
"Yeah, okay," she agreed, not noticing the relieved look on Tristan's eyes. "But I have to go for dinner at-" Suddenly, something clicked in her mind. Her eyes apologetic, she looked up at him and laid a hand on his arm. "I'm sorry, I can't. I just remembered that I have plans tomorrow."
He tried to push away the disappointment that filled him. "Oh," he said. He waved his hand dismissively. "It's okay. We can do that some other time."
Rory bit her lip, wondering if she should tell him. "Tomorrow, Dean & I are celebrating our three-month anniversary."
This time, it wasn't disappointment that coursed through his veins but rather, a sharp kind of pain that permeated in his heart; a feeling that was much more difficult to ignore or push away.
When he didn't say anything and his neutral look didn't give away anything of what he was feeling, she started to ramble to hide her nervousness. "Well, technically, our anniversary is on Saturday but he has to work so we're celebrating it on Friday."
He hoped his smile was convincing. "Hope you have a good time." He looked at anything but her. "I, um... I have to go. I'll see you tomorrow."
Watching his retreating form, she didn't want to think about why she felt disappointed.
Three months.
She had been with Dean for three months. It sure didn't feel like it... especially lately, when she sometimes found her mind wandering while she was with him. Her traitorous mind couldn't help drudging up the memories of that weekend when everything seemed simple and perfect. Reality was not much fun, when you're pining over someone who's not your boyfriend.
Now, it seemed like there was nothing new or interesting in her relationship with Dean. It was as though they were already an old married couple, but without the same comfort level, intimacy and shared feelings.
They were an old boring married couple and it seemed like she couldn't wait until the "til death do us part" because she was suffering. It wasn't his fault though; it was hers. It was her who cared for someone else. It was her who imagined someone else kissing her whenever their lips touched. It was her who wanted someone else. It was all her.
As she put on the finishing touch of gloss on her lips, she debated the merits of telling Dean about Madeline's party and asking him if he would go with her. Plus, having both Tristan and Dean in the same room at the same time was bound to cause some uncomfortable scenes. Sure, he had been quite understanding about her friendship with Tristan but she still didn't feel comfortable enough talking to him about the things that Tristan and her did. In fact, now that she thought about it, they practically avoided the topic of her newfound friendship. She knew that listening to her talk about Tristan was asking too much from him and besides, she didn't want to offer any tidbits of information lest she say something that might give away her changing feelings.
A knock on her door snapped her out of her thoughts. "Come in," she called out.
Lorelai's head peeked in. "Hey."
"Hey mom, come on in."
"You look great," she said, sitting down at the edge of Rory's bed.
Rory smiled but knew that their mother could see through her. "Thanks."
"You know, for a girl who's celebrating a three-month anniversary, you sure look cheery," Lorelai commented, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Don't start, Mom," Rory pleaded. "I just wanna go, have a good time and come home. The end."
Lorelai reached out and smoothed a stray piece of hair. "No, you're gonna go, have a good time but still think about Tristan and come home."
"Shut up," Rory groaned. "Don't mess with my mission statement."
"You have a mission statement?"
Rory glared at her. "I used to. Before you messed with it."
Lorelai held up her hands in defeat. "Okay, okay... topic change. Where is he taking you?"
"How is that a topic change?" Rory asked.
"We're not talking about Tristan anymore, are we?" Lorelai said pointedly.
"Well, if you must know, he's taking me to Andoloro's"
"Oh, well isn't that romantic?"
Rory sighed. "I know."
"Wow, it's gonna be just like Lady and the Tramp. You'll share a plate of spaghetti, but it'll just be one long strand, but you won't realize it until you accidentally meet in the middle. And then, he'll push a meatball towards you with his nose, and you'll push it back with your nose, and then you'll bring the meatball home and you'll save it in the refrigerator for years and... "
"Mom!" Rory cut in. "You're not helping. You're butchering my mission statement and throwing its remains into the ocean."
Lorelai leaned forward in interest. "You really must tell me what this mission statement is."
" 'Don't think about Tristan.' That's my mission statement," Rory clarified.
Lorelai nodded, trying to look suitably impressed. "Wow, good call on the statement. So is this like a mission statement for just tonight, or is it for everyday?"
"It's for everyday. It's my mantra every morning I get up. Don't think of Tristan." A loud beep from outside sounded and Rory sighed. "That's Dean."
Lorelai gave her daughter a hug. "Bye honey, have fun. May your mission statement work." She followed Rory out to the hallway and leaned against a wall as Rory put on her shoes and opened the front door. "Don't forget the meatball!"
He was working himself into a frenzy, trying to imagine what was happening during Rory's date with Dean. He was acting like a jealous boyfriend, except that he had no right to be jealous since he had no claim on her.
"We're just friends," he mumbled, practically spitting out the last word.
He was feeling as though he was a caged animal. Growling in frustration, he stopped pacing and plopped himself on his king-sized bed, burying his head in his pillows.
The silence ate at him; it was positively deafening. He leaned to the right, his hands feeling for the remote control for his stereo. When he finally found it, he clicked the 'on' button, only to let out a loud groan when the strains of Brian McKnight filled the room. He sat up and clicked the 'off' button; he preferred the deathly silence.
Making a decision, he reached for his keys and cell phone before striding out of his room. The door slammed behind him.
As she lay snuggled in his arms, she couldn't quite believe all the things that he had done for her. Dinner had been great and now... this! He was building her a car. Dean had to be the best boyfriend a girl could ask for... if it wasn't for the fact that Tristan was lingering in the fringes of her mind.
This should not be happening; here she was, in her boyfriend's arms, watching the stars and all she could think of was Tristan and how she had felt in his arms that night at the park when they had first kissed.
Don't think about Tristan. "I'm having one of those moments right now."
"What moments?"
"One of those moments that everything is so perfect and so wonderful that you almost feel sad because nothing can ever be this good again."
"So, basically, I'm depressing you."
Rory grinned. "Yup."
"You're very weird."
"And you're wonderful."
She turned her head to face him just in time for his lips to land on hers. Don't think of Tristan. Reaching up, she lightly lay a hand on his cheek and returned his kiss.
"Rory?"
"Yeah?" She lay back in the circle of his arms, smiling... thoughts of Tristan seemingly forgotten.
Dean took the time to savour the moment, caught up in the feeling of this wonderful girl in his arms. "I love you." He paused, waiting for her to say something... to say anything. As a few seconds passed, fear lanced through his heart. "Rory?"
She closed her eyes, wishing that she had just imagined those words, wishing that she could turn back those few seconds and stop him before it was said, wishing that it wasn't Tristan face that was emblazoned in her mind right now. "Yeah?"
"Did you hear me?"
She heard the uncertainty in his voice but didn't know what to say. "Uh huh."
"Well, say something."
"I... I..."
"Yeah?" He held his breath, hoping to hear what he wanted to hear.
She felt walls closing in on her, knowing that she had to say something. "I love the car," she blurted.
Despair was difficult to swallow and hard to disguise. "Uh, and that's it?"
Rory turned to him, trying to make him understand. "No. I just...I'm surprised, I didn't expect... I don't..."
His chest felt heavy with misery. "You don't love me."
She laid her hand on his, trying to take away the pain that she saw in his eyes. "No, I just have to think about it for a minute.
"Think about what?"
"Well, saying I love you is a really difficult thing."
"Well, I just did it," he pointed out, his tone harsh.
"And you did it really well."
Dean pulled away from her. "What the hell does that mean?"
"I'm sorry. Please. This totally came as a surprise. I mean, with the dinner, and the car, and then the… I just need a minute to think," she said frantically.
"This is not something that you think about Rory," he said, running a hand through his hair in a gesture of frustration. "This is either something that you feel or you don't."
She closed her eyes and saw Tristan in her mind again. I know. "Please, don't be mad," she pleaded.
"Why? Because I say I love you and you wanna think about it?" He knew he shouldn't say it, but he did anyways. "I mean, go home and discuss it with your mother? Make one of your pro/con lists?"
She shook her head, a stray tear falling down her cheek. "Not fair."
"I'm sorry. I'm an idiot. I don't even know what I was thinking." His tone was caustic.
"Dean. Please, it's just not that easy for me. I mean, saying I love you means a lot. Think about it from my point of view. I mean, my mom and our life. I mean, my mom said that she loved my dad and then..." It was an excuse and it sounded absolutely feeble in her mind. Don't think of Tristan.
"You don't get pregnant saying I love you."
"I know. I'm just confused. I need to… It's a really big deal."
Dean shook his head wearily, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle. She didn't love him. It was as simple as that. He would go home and lick his wounds. "Fine, come on."
"Dean, please don't be mad," she begged, her eyes welling up with tears.
"I'll take you home," he murmured defeatedly.
"Dean, tonight was amazing. It was perfect. Please, I swear, I just need a minute to..."
He looked away from her. He couldn't see her cry; he knew that seeing her that way would only make him feel even worse. "Whatever, it doesn't matter, all right? Let's go."
He was sitting in an empty field, his eyes on the inky black sky as he idly fingered a blade of grass.
He had been thinking for a while now, trying to come up with a way to ease the pain and frustration within him. And after a while, he came to one logical conclusion: he would give up on her.
It sounded so easy but he knew that it would take a lot to try to forget the insane way she managed to affect him. It was going to doubly hard because he was still going to remain friends with her. He was setting himself up for torture, he realized but he knew that if he set his mind to it, he would somehow eventually get over her and find someone else. It would take a lot of willpower and a solid defence around his heart.
So, he decided, yes, he would give up on her. He expected to feel lighter, less burdened but the feeling seemed to heighten.
What if he could never get over her? What if being near her only made him love her more? What if he could never love anyone the way he loved her? What if-"
The loud, insistent ringing of his cellphone jarred him. When he took a look at the called-ID, he was immediately concerned.
"Tristan?"
He closed his eyes, wanting to laugh at the irony of it all. "What's wrong?"
The sound of the front door closing woke Lorelai from her light sleep. "Rory?"
Rory took a deep breath and struggled to keep her voice steady. "We broke up."
In two strides, she was hugging Rory who returned the embrace fiercely. "What happened?"
Rory shook her head, not willing to relive what had just happened. "I don't wanna talk about it." She sought comfort in her mother's arms for a while more before carefully disentangling herself. Her smile was shaky. "I just wanna go to sleep. Maybe it'll seem better in the morning."
Lorelai looked over her daughter carefully. "Are you sure? I can make a quick run and get us some ice-cream and candy."
Rory shook her head. "No, it's all right, Mom."
"You sure?"
"I'm sure," she reaffirmed as she opened her bedroom room. Her facade fell away as she closed the door behind her. Biting her lip to keep from crying, she threw herself on her bed. Her eyes stared unseeingly at her pristine white ceiling as her mind played an encore viewing of what had happened.
"I love you."
"You don't love me."
"This is not something that you think about Rory. This is either something that you feel or you don't."
Rolling onto her side, she picked up the phone and dialed; her heart hammering as she waited for someone to pick up.
"Tristan?"
He waited impatiently for someone for answer the front door. When the door finally swung open, he looked up and shared a worried look with Lorelai.
"Is she all right?"
Lorelai moved aside and let him enter. "She says she's okay... but I know she's lying."
Tristan sighed. "Where is she?"
"In her room." When she saw the questioning look in his eyes, she added, "You can go in there."
"Thanks Lorelai."
"Just talk to her, okay?"
Tristan nodded as he lightly rapped on her door. "Rory, it's me. Can I come in?"
"Yeah," came the shaky voice.
He opened the door and stepping into the dark room, illuminated only by the dim light filtering in through her windows. He saw a reclining figure on the bed accompanied by the sounds of sniffling.
Gingerly, he sat down on the edge of her bed next to her and held her hand, rubbing slow circles on her palm.
"I came as fast I could. What happened?"
"We broke up," she mumbled, leaning her head back against the headboard.
"What?" He nearly choked in surprise.
"We broke up," she repeated mechanically.
"Why?"
She chanced a look at him before quickly looking away again. "I don't wanna talk about it now."
"How are you feeling?" he asked, brushing her hair away from her face.
Like a traitor for thinking about you when he said he loved me. "Like crap."
"Want a hug?" he offered, smiling slightly. "It'll make you feel better."
Without a word, she leaned forward and let his arms engulf her, cocooning her in the safety of his arms. She let out a contented sigh. But her lips curled into a frown as feelings of guilt started to build up in her. Dean and her had broken up just over an hour ago and here she was, seeking solace in Tristan's arms. She knew that she should let go, but she didn't want to.
Tristan quietly whispered comforting words to her, his hands lightly stroking her hair. 'Friends', he repeated to himself. That's all we are.' Still, he found himself holding her tighter.
He wouldn't spoil it all by saying something stupid like "I love you."
So... yes, we say bye bye bye to Dean and bid hello to Troryness. :D