Author's Note- I'm still alive.



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Last Beautiful Girl

Chapter Three – Mistake



On the way home, Rory nearly ran into two mailboxes, tripped over a lawn gnome, and caught herself thinking about Tristan's butt at least five times. She stopped counting after that.

The walk to the front door found Rory's mind flooded with the memory of how right it felt to have his arms around her. She slammed the door, knocking over the rubber elephant next to the coat rack, sending it flying towards the stuffed goose on a nearby shelf.

After three hours of lying wordlessly on her bed, no answers had magically formed on the ceiling, although at one point Rory was sure that a fly had been attempting to skywrite a secret message from the CIA. She rolled over, groaning at the sudden, unfamiliar movement. The early evening sunlight filtered in through her sheer curtains, painting a puddle of golden yellow on her floor.

Rory continued to roll until she fell onto the floor, over the rug, next to the cordless phone lying amongst a heap of scarves. She hit the power button and began to dial when she realized she didn't know whom to call.

As she started to stare out of the window at the sunset, her desk faintly came into view. She reached out a hand to grab the chair, knocking her backpack off of the desk and onto its side, a small, folded piece of paper tumbling out.

Rory, call me. I need to talk to you. Tristan.

Fate. Yeah. She shrugged, a chill running down her spine. He must have slipped it in there at the bus stop. His number was scribbled below his name in that Tristan scrawl, exuding none of the overconfidence of his personality. It was small, meek, and messy. She held the paper in the palm of her hand, raising it up toward her face, inhaling the vague scent of his cologne.

Rory shuddered again, then picked up the phone. She hastily dialed his number, not really knowing why. It rang, echoing with the hollow sound of her breath.

"Hello?"

There was silence. Breathing.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Hi." Rory whispered.

"I didn't think you'd call."

"Yeah, me either." Rory rolled onto her stomach, playing with the loops of the rug between her fingers.

"I... I don't know what to say." Tristan sounded... almost vulnerable.

Silence again.

"Rory. I just... What happened earlier. I don't... Can't we..."

"Tristan. I... I don't know why I called, honestly. I think this was a mistake."

He exhaled slowly. "That's just it, Rory. It wasn't a mistake. Everything about it was right. Everything. And you know it."

"No."

Several moments passed until she heard his voice again.

"Rory. Please, just say something. Tell me you felt it too, I know you did."

A flash of light filled her room, and the distant crunching of tires against concrete drifted through the open window.

"Rory."

A tear silently slipped down her cheek. "I'm sorry."

She lightly set down the phone, sobbing into her cradled hands, wondering just what she had done.