Rory woke up in a flash. It almost seemed—Too chick flick.
She had been sleeping on the couch, and that was after Tristan had put up the groceries and told her about his encounter.
Why was she having dreams about this guy? This perfectly average, handsome, intelligent, rich guy?
It was too mushy, too forced, too unreal.
"Tris?" She called out softly.
"Ror?" He replied, his voice faint.
"Just checking."
"The gossip connection works fast." Rory muttered to him, tossing him a letter.
"Dear Mr. DuGray, we request your presence at the Daughters of the American Revolution ball. Please feel free to R.S.V.P as soon as possible and bring a companion." He trailed off. "What about you?"
"Tossed the letter out before I could read it." She told him, sitting down on his bed.
"You can call if you want to go." He reminded her. "Being a former deb and all."
She gave him a surprised half-smile. "How'd you know?"
"The gossip connection works fast." He mocked.
"I wouldn't have anyone there to make the experience enjoyable. I'm betting Grandma has given up trying to bring Mom and Granddad." She explained.
"I'll go if you need me to." He offered, standing up and going to the study. She followed him there.
He was sitting at her desk, the phone in his hand. She leaned on the frame of the door. "Want me to dial?"
"That'd be nice." Rory admitted.
"Good. I won't be tortured by my parents if we end up sitting next to one another."
"I don't really think your parents would care." Rory told him wearily. "Judging by your whole thing with your father."
He nodded. "I guess you're right."
He dialed the number and handed the phone to Rory. She looked like a deer in the headlights, and as the phone rang, she was refusing to do anything. She stood about a foot away from him, and she was shaking her head fiercely.
"Hello?"
"Like, oh my God." Rory found herself saying in a very perky voice. "This is, like, Lorelei Gilmore the Third's assistant Leeann! Ms. Gilmore would, like, to, like, apologize for the delay in her, like, reservation, but, like, Ms. Gilmore would, like, absolutely, like, totally, like, love to go to the, like, ball. No, like, she doesn't. But she will be, like, sharing, like, a car with, like, Tristan DuGray. Well, then, like, she'll be there!"
Tristan was laughing his head off.
"Your turn." Rory snapped, handing him the phone.
"Hello?"
In a very high-pitched voice, Tristan turned on the charm. "This is totally Rico, the totally buff and available assistant of Tristan DuGray, calling to totally say that Mr. DuGray is totally pumped for the D.A.R ball. And, yes, you totally sweet, sweet man, you will be all totally Rico's by the end of the phone call. Mr. DuGray, unfortunately, being the total hottie he is, is totally straight and is totally sharing a car with the totally groovy straight chick Lorelei Gilmore the Third. Totally! Oh my god, I do not know what is totally going on with those two.."
Tristan hung up before the man on the other end could hear Rory slapping him playfully.
Rory browsed through the non-Lorelei collection of her jewelry. All she had was a pair of pearl earrings, a pearl necklace and a diamond tennis bracelet, all gifts from her grandmother. She decided to save the bracelet for later.
On a normal night, she would have gone with a dark blue or a black dress. But tonight, she felt like wearing some sort of—She chose a wine-colored garment made of soft, fluttering silk. She was throwing pairs of shoes out of her closet when Tristan walked in.
"God, Rory, it's not like you care." Tristan drawled, picking up one of her wine-colored heels she had completely forgotten about. It dangled by its thin silky straps on his pinky.
"There they are!" She exclaimed, grabbing it and shoving the shoe on. "Now where's the other one?"
She returned to the closet and Tristan nonchalantly grabbed the shoe off of her bed.
Rory whirled around instantly and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. He held the shoe over her head.
Rory was not tiny, mind you. But she had a certain disability, as one foot was rearing to go and the other was bare except for the thin material of hose between her and the carpeted floor.
She managed to grab it anyway and, glaring at Tristan, ordered him to help her with her necklace.
Tristan sat down on her bed as she put her hair up, holding it back with real-looking pearls that (if Lorelei had decided to buy the metallic purple ones) would have given themselves away.
She turned around to be appraised.
"He's totally going with this groovy straight chick." Tristan mimicked.
She smiled at him. "So we're leaving by train, freshening up at your parents' place and then taking a chauffeured car?"
He nodded. She appraised him. He wore a navy blue silken suit. It wasn't too shiny, but it looked soft. Smooth.
"Milady?" He offered his arm, speaking in a very stuffy voice.
"Milord." She replied demurely.
"We are acting so dorky." He whispered as they walked down the stairs.
"Just practicing." She retorted.
"Good point."