The script on the invitation was somewhat loopy and looked like it had
been painted with a brush.
Tristin knew he shouldn't have been looking through her mail. But it was opened.
He had noticed she had picked it up, ripped it open, rolled her eyes, and tossed it casually into a chic, frosted plastic trash can by the counter. He had picked it up out of the trash and then Rory's voice made him put it back.
The place was pretty huge for a New York Times columnist's place. The island kitchen looked out onto a hip dining room/living room. While the kitchen was made of warm browns and off-whites, the living room was made out of shiny, dark metals and bright accents. There was an iron spiral staircase up to both of the bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a study. Behind the staircase was a bathroom, a closet, and some other storage thing of some kind. The huge living room had long glass panels that each opened up to the large balcony.
She had gone upstairs to make a few calls.
"Make yourself at home, play with the stereo system or something!" She shouted down the stairs.
Though she was pretty sure she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, Mom. It's the Evil One. Don't tell Grandma, or every single country club in the nation will know. Actually, he was at NYU with me. No, he didn't have the same reputation as he did in high school.. But Chilton was Chilton, like Stars Hollow. Except evil. NYU is different. But I knew a couple of his girlfriends- They're pretty down to earth."
Tristin knew Rory's mom was one of her best friends, but honestly. At least she was protecting him- Any other ex-Chiltonite would have contacted Gold Diggers R' Us the second they could.
But he supposed Rory wasn't just some ex-Chiltonite.
Tristin thought about it. Rory wasn't as cynical as he was about the whole high society thing, but she was not exactly the girl that grew up in the spotlight reciting Latin and stock quotes to her parents' friends.
Tristin chuckled softly, remembering what his grandfather had said before insisting Tristin accept the invitation to the girl's sixteenth birthday party.
"Gilmore? Ah- Her grandparents, fine couple. Emily and Richard. Very nice conversationalists. But that daughter- And that boy that got her all knocked up. Both of them rebels. Couldn't take the way of life they had been given, let me tell you. That daughter almost never knew what a brush was until she came to Chilton, your father told me that. And that boy- Christopher. Hardly knew what he was doing. He could have done anything! But both of them- It would be interesting to see how their kid turned out!"
Tristin remembered shaking his head before asking Marilyn, the family social secretary, to R.S.V.P.
"Thinking back to the good old days?" Rory's voice interrupted his thoughts. She sat down in one of the low arm-chairs made of curling pewter metal and silken cushions.
"Yeah, actually. Thinking about good old high society." Tristin had a short, bitter laugh following his statement. He shoved his hands into his pockets and continued.
The sound of clinking pieces of metal and panting interrupted the laugh, as a black-and-white English spaniel pup hopped down the stairs in a comical fashion.
"Hey, Rox! Glad to see you decided to grace us with your presence!" Rory said in a cooing, high-pitched voice. Tristin was oddly reminded of one of his stepmothers. The dog sniffed Tristin's shiny shoes for a moment, then a slow, goofy-looking sort of grin was plastered on the dog's face. Rory picked up the dog and waved one of it's paws at Tristin. "This is Roxanne, otherwise known as Roxy, or Rox, the queen of the house."
"Always wanted a dog." Tristin said, looking skeptically at the pup, who jumped out of the chair and was running around Tristin's legs. He picked it up, letting Roxy lick his face. "My father would never let me, neither would my grandfather. They had hunting dogs galore, but never did they have a dog for companionship."
"Oh, we could never have pets at our house, for fear they'd die. Luke and Max and Christopher all objected to it. I got Rox when I moved into this apartment. I was so lonely and this place was so huge with none of my stuff in it." Rory told him. "Sit down. You look so Chiltonish when you stand like that."
He smiled, finding a chair next to Rory. It was a futon couch wiht a frame similar to the frame of Rory's chair.
"Come on, Rox.. Leave him alone." Rory scolded softly. Roxy whimpered softly.
"I don't mind, really. But I like big dogs. Like, uh.. Well, I like golden retrievers and dogs like that. My dog, the one Tiffany should be sending over sometime soon, is pretty big. Jack is one of those dogs--.." Tristin looked out the window wistfully. "It's like we've been friends for a long time."
"It is." Rory replied, not meeting the intense gaze he gave her. "Coffee?"
"Let me guess, you've got Starbucks installed right in your kitchen." Tristin said with a laugh. "I'd love some."
"My grandfather got me this place. Promised me four years' supply of coffee if I promised to go to Hartford for Christmas and Easter for each of those years. I'm their latest accessory, you know? They love showing me off." Rory brought in a tray of two huge mugs of mocha coffee. "Not exactly Starbucks."
Tristin took a sip. "But still good."
Rory blushed a bit. "I'm surprised you didn't hear I was at NYU. Thought the Country Club Connection would alert all the Chiltonites were to find me to torture me."
"Ah, they just needed somebody besides each other to attack." Tristin waved it off.
"Thanks, but that doesn't make those three years any easier. Just like you." Rory clamped her hand over her mouth.
"I was a duck." Tristin laughed. "Sorry."
"A duck?" Rory hoped he knew what he was saying.
"My cousin Greta's Seventeen magazine described it as- The loser that spits in your drink and knocks your books out of your arms across the hall like a third grader to show he likes you." Tristin admitted. "I had read all my uncle's back issues of GQ."
Rory laughed lightly, her eyes emptying of happiness slowly. "Yeah, you were."
"I'm sorry." Rory met his gaze.
"You don't have to apologize." She looked away, not being able to look at him for too long.
"Yeah, I do. And at least you have an explanation. I was a stupid, jerky kid." Tristin told her, putting his coffee on a Charlie's Angels coaster. He took her free hand in both of his own.
"I'm really, really sorry."
The doorbell rang, and Rory got up immediately and she looked flushed. Tristin sat back, shaking his head sadly.
"Saved by the bell." He muttered, grabbing his coffee and sighing before he took a long sip.
Tristin knew he shouldn't have been looking through her mail. But it was opened.
He had noticed she had picked it up, ripped it open, rolled her eyes, and tossed it casually into a chic, frosted plastic trash can by the counter. He had picked it up out of the trash and then Rory's voice made him put it back.
The place was pretty huge for a New York Times columnist's place. The island kitchen looked out onto a hip dining room/living room. While the kitchen was made of warm browns and off-whites, the living room was made out of shiny, dark metals and bright accents. There was an iron spiral staircase up to both of the bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a study. Behind the staircase was a bathroom, a closet, and some other storage thing of some kind. The huge living room had long glass panels that each opened up to the large balcony.
She had gone upstairs to make a few calls.
"Make yourself at home, play with the stereo system or something!" She shouted down the stairs.
Though she was pretty sure she closed the door behind her. "Yeah, Mom. It's the Evil One. Don't tell Grandma, or every single country club in the nation will know. Actually, he was at NYU with me. No, he didn't have the same reputation as he did in high school.. But Chilton was Chilton, like Stars Hollow. Except evil. NYU is different. But I knew a couple of his girlfriends- They're pretty down to earth."
Tristin knew Rory's mom was one of her best friends, but honestly. At least she was protecting him- Any other ex-Chiltonite would have contacted Gold Diggers R' Us the second they could.
But he supposed Rory wasn't just some ex-Chiltonite.
Tristin thought about it. Rory wasn't as cynical as he was about the whole high society thing, but she was not exactly the girl that grew up in the spotlight reciting Latin and stock quotes to her parents' friends.
Tristin chuckled softly, remembering what his grandfather had said before insisting Tristin accept the invitation to the girl's sixteenth birthday party.
"Gilmore? Ah- Her grandparents, fine couple. Emily and Richard. Very nice conversationalists. But that daughter- And that boy that got her all knocked up. Both of them rebels. Couldn't take the way of life they had been given, let me tell you. That daughter almost never knew what a brush was until she came to Chilton, your father told me that. And that boy- Christopher. Hardly knew what he was doing. He could have done anything! But both of them- It would be interesting to see how their kid turned out!"
Tristin remembered shaking his head before asking Marilyn, the family social secretary, to R.S.V.P.
"Thinking back to the good old days?" Rory's voice interrupted his thoughts. She sat down in one of the low arm-chairs made of curling pewter metal and silken cushions.
"Yeah, actually. Thinking about good old high society." Tristin had a short, bitter laugh following his statement. He shoved his hands into his pockets and continued.
The sound of clinking pieces of metal and panting interrupted the laugh, as a black-and-white English spaniel pup hopped down the stairs in a comical fashion.
"Hey, Rox! Glad to see you decided to grace us with your presence!" Rory said in a cooing, high-pitched voice. Tristin was oddly reminded of one of his stepmothers. The dog sniffed Tristin's shiny shoes for a moment, then a slow, goofy-looking sort of grin was plastered on the dog's face. Rory picked up the dog and waved one of it's paws at Tristin. "This is Roxanne, otherwise known as Roxy, or Rox, the queen of the house."
"Always wanted a dog." Tristin said, looking skeptically at the pup, who jumped out of the chair and was running around Tristin's legs. He picked it up, letting Roxy lick his face. "My father would never let me, neither would my grandfather. They had hunting dogs galore, but never did they have a dog for companionship."
"Oh, we could never have pets at our house, for fear they'd die. Luke and Max and Christopher all objected to it. I got Rox when I moved into this apartment. I was so lonely and this place was so huge with none of my stuff in it." Rory told him. "Sit down. You look so Chiltonish when you stand like that."
He smiled, finding a chair next to Rory. It was a futon couch wiht a frame similar to the frame of Rory's chair.
"Come on, Rox.. Leave him alone." Rory scolded softly. Roxy whimpered softly.
"I don't mind, really. But I like big dogs. Like, uh.. Well, I like golden retrievers and dogs like that. My dog, the one Tiffany should be sending over sometime soon, is pretty big. Jack is one of those dogs--.." Tristin looked out the window wistfully. "It's like we've been friends for a long time."
"It is." Rory replied, not meeting the intense gaze he gave her. "Coffee?"
"Let me guess, you've got Starbucks installed right in your kitchen." Tristin said with a laugh. "I'd love some."
"My grandfather got me this place. Promised me four years' supply of coffee if I promised to go to Hartford for Christmas and Easter for each of those years. I'm their latest accessory, you know? They love showing me off." Rory brought in a tray of two huge mugs of mocha coffee. "Not exactly Starbucks."
Tristin took a sip. "But still good."
Rory blushed a bit. "I'm surprised you didn't hear I was at NYU. Thought the Country Club Connection would alert all the Chiltonites were to find me to torture me."
"Ah, they just needed somebody besides each other to attack." Tristin waved it off.
"Thanks, but that doesn't make those three years any easier. Just like you." Rory clamped her hand over her mouth.
"I was a duck." Tristin laughed. "Sorry."
"A duck?" Rory hoped he knew what he was saying.
"My cousin Greta's Seventeen magazine described it as- The loser that spits in your drink and knocks your books out of your arms across the hall like a third grader to show he likes you." Tristin admitted. "I had read all my uncle's back issues of GQ."
Rory laughed lightly, her eyes emptying of happiness slowly. "Yeah, you were."
"I'm sorry." Rory met his gaze.
"You don't have to apologize." She looked away, not being able to look at him for too long.
"Yeah, I do. And at least you have an explanation. I was a stupid, jerky kid." Tristin told her, putting his coffee on a Charlie's Angels coaster. He took her free hand in both of his own.
"I'm really, really sorry."
The doorbell rang, and Rory got up immediately and she looked flushed. Tristin sat back, shaking his head sadly.
"Saved by the bell." He muttered, grabbing his coffee and sighing before he took a long sip.