Paris Gellar impatiently tapped her foot, her arms crossed and her expression begging for intelligent conversation. You would have thought after high school, Madelyn and Louise would have matured a bit.
"So you're six one, six two?"
"Will you two just jump them and get it over with?" Paris growled, and instead of scowling, Louise's face was lit up by a rare event. An idea.
"Thanks for the suggestion, Paris." She drawled with her infamous sickly sweet smile. She took the six-one/six-two guy by the hand and led him away.
"Yeah, we really owe you one." Madelyn chirped, following Louise's example.
Paris glanced at her watch. She didn't remember what designer name it was, or which parent it was that was trying to suck up to her, and she honestly didn't care. What she cared about was the time. It was seven seventeen and she really wanted intelligent conversation.
She looked at the watch in disgust, realizing that taupe was not an easy color to wear.
She let her eyes linger around the half-empty lobby of the Ritz. Excellent choice, if you asked her. But of course, no one ever did. The carpet was lush and dark red, the fixtures were all gold-plated, and laughter softly floated through the glass doors.
"What would Rico say, Ror?" A hauntingly familiar deep voice asked between chuckles.
"That I'm totally not the groovy chick he thought I was." His female companion replied.
Paris froze. That voice she knew, and if her instincts were right, the man beside her was---
"Tristan!" Rory hissed. "Behave!"
Damn, they both looked good. At least they didn't match. That would have been just horrible, heartbreaking, the whole nine yards.
Tristan shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes appraising the room. Paris took the opportunity to hide. Anywhere would be fine, but she had to hide.
She spotted a little closet underneath the stairs. She rushed into it and found herself bumping into someone.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't my step cousin's little friend Paris." Jess drawled as he instantly shut the door. "Hiding from the perfect couple, I see."
Paris sent him a confused look, which he probably couldn't see.
"Let's face it, none of us are ready for her to fall into that life. Not me, not you, not her parents and certainly not him." Jess sighed. "Or were you just going to the powder room and letting me blabber?"
"Actually.." Paris whispered, but Jess looked up when he heard a female voice.
"I swear, Luke, I don't even know why we even take him to these dinners. Remember his first D.A.R ball? He practically exploded the 77th Anniversary cake."
"Damn, that's my aunt." Jess muttered. "Come on, we need to get out of here before she comes looking in here."
Jess opened the door and walked out nonchalantly, and Paris followed.
Tristan, Rory, Luke, Madelyn, Louise, Lorelei and the two male companions raised their eyebrows as Jess and Paris emerged from a closet.
Rory let out a very undignified giggle, and turned away. Tristan was muffling his laughter into her shoulder, and Luke's eyebrows disappeared into his gelled hair. Lorelei let out a catcall.
"Mom!" Rory shrieked.
Louise turned back to her date. "I'm bored."
They left and Madelyn followed with her own escort.
"This is not what it looks like." Paris said instantly.
"It's not just a fling." Jess interrupted.
Paris shot him a look and he leaned over to whisper in her ear.
"Do they really want to know we're escaping their presence? Now giggle."
Paris giggled.
"Go Jess." Tristan murmured.
"Go Paris!" Rory whispered loudly. "He's hot."
Tristan raised one eyebrow. "In that non-sexy, cousin-y sort of way."
"Rory, Rory, Rory.. The fruit of me and Chris's frenzied, stress-relieving, one-time, highly-rewarding, amazingly well-read, victim-to-gossip labor, tell me who this delightful young tart is." Lorelei drawled as Jess and Paris off together, Jess was nonchalant and Paris was quite flushed.
"Oh, Mom, this is my roommate, Tristan Du.." At this moment, Rory was yanked aside.
"That's Tristan?" Lorelei demanded in a low whisper.
Rory nodded.
"I know I'm going to pull a cliché here, but why didn't you inform me Bible Boy was so.." Lorelei trailed off, trying to place the word.
"Cute?" Rory suggested wearily.
"Yeah!" Lorelei exclaimed.
"I tried to tell you he was Baby from the Backstreet Boys!" Rory hissed.
"That's hardly doing him any justice! He's more Brad Pitt or Ed Norton-y." Lorelei retorted.
"Lor?" Luke asked from a few feet away.
"Coming." Lorelei chirped, looking over her shoulder at Rory with a smirk that made Rory groan.
"What was your mother saying about doing me?" Tristan whispered softly in Rory's ear, making her jump. "I thought she was married."
"She is." Rory replied as she slowly started walking into the Grand Ballroom.
"So she was suggesting that you do me? I have to give her props for her excellent taste." Tristan teased, and he grabbed Rory by the wrist, spinning her into him.
The electricity was there, no doubt about it.
"Can't have your mascara running on a night like this." He whispered, kissing her forehead softly and pulling away.
Rory, though puzzled, slipped her arm into the crook of his bended one and they proceeded into the ballroom.
"I swear if they play the Macarena one more time, I will pull an Ozzy Osborne and bit the head off of one of these ice swans." Lorelei muttered. "My mother is out there."
Tristan, Rory, and Luke readjusted their line of view to see Emily Gilmore smiling and laughing as falsely as possible.
Tristan caught Rory's eye and they ducked under the table to begin laughing.
"Why don't you and me go out there?" Luke suggested, and Rory froze.
Lorelei shot him a look. "Mr. Cynical-I-Never-Give-Coffee-Or-Alcohol-Or-Anything-Fun-To-Lorelei is suggesting that we do the Macarena at a D.A.R. ball? Who are you and what have you done with my husband?"
Luke looked sheepish.
"Do you even know the steps?"
"I cannot believe I'm being subjected to this." Paris moaned, tapping her fingertips against the white tablecloth.
"You? Those people are related to me!" Jess reminded her loudly.
"Ya'll sound so sweet." A D.A.R member from Georgia commented as she stopped to appraise the two. "Adorable. You're that Lorelei's nephew, correct?"
Jess nodded.
"Your uncle is one brilliant man, especially with that Lorelei heading that enterprise of his. Paris, I approve." She passed them by and Paris glared at Jess.
"Thanks for the highly successful alibi. By my mother's garden party next week, half of the East Coast will know about you and me." She hissed through gritted teeth.
"What's the big deal? What, do you think Tristan and Rory are actually a couple? They're roommates. They're friends. And I thought we were, too. Friends, that is." Jess muttered coldly.
Paris held back a scream. "That's not what I meant, Jess. It's just that we can't keep playing this charade. It's wrong to deceive people like that."
Jess smirked. "You'd rather have your cousin?"
Paris's eyes narrowed. "I told you never to remind me of that ever again."
"Well, I rather like this charade. It wouldn't be deceiving if it were true." Jess reminded her, leaning in.
Paris's eyes grew from slits to saucers. "Are you implying what I think you're implying?"
Jess smirked, taking her hand, kissing the top of it and standing up. "Louis, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship. Not a direct quote, but Casablanca isn't what's on my mind."
"Tango, Miss Gilmore?" Tristan asked softly as he led her to the quiet lobby.
They could barely hear the music drifting through the doors. But it was enough.
"Why, Mr. DuGray, I had no idea you could dance." Rory replied in a very posh British voice. He took her hand and gently spun her out.
"Cotillion." He whispered into her ear when he brought her back in. "What about you?"
"Miss Patty. I had to learn for my coming out as a debutante." Rory answered softly. "Who is that?"
Tristan thought for a moment. "Miles Davis."
"Oh yeah."
They danced a little more. Rory leaned her head on Tristan's shoulder and closed her eyes.
Tristan stopped after a while. "Rory, do you love me?"
Rory looked up, her eyes open and wide.
"Well, I, maybe, well, ye- I don't know." She stuttered, and his smile set her at ease.
"It's a start, then." Tristan murmured, sweeping up her hand and kissing it, before he proceeded to go into the ballroom.