Disclaimer: See first chapter.
Author's Note: A bit longer, and I foresee this fic to be slow moving. As usual, feedback is greatly appreciated. I'm trying to avoid clichés.
Tristan guided his Jag smoothly into the Chilton parking lot, reserved specifically for the students. He flicked the keys and the machine's purr seeped out slowly, leaving him in silence. He checked his expensive designer wristwatch.8:05 am. Should I get out and be smothered in the mobs of so-called friends and the admiring glances of girls? Or should I hide out here longer?
He released a long sigh and adjusted his collar. Go out and face the procrastinating hordes, I guess. Scooping his books under his arm, he slid out of the car, shutting the door with a muted click. Tristan squinted in the sunlight, his eyes struggling to adjust to the change of light.
A firm hand gripped his arm. Tristan wasn't surprised.
"DuGrey! Looking a little pasty I see? Someone keep you inside all weekend eh?" Tristan inwardly groaned, recognizing the voice. Brad Lance. One of his 'friends' if he dared to say. A loud mouthed gossip, ready to spread the latest scandal like a virus, a particular favorite in the 'Golden Circle' at school. But he smiled a smile, laughed and said something like "Wouldn't you like to know"
Tristan nodded politely to the female student clinging to Brad's arm and stepped the other direction. His feet crunched on the dewy grass and then on the gravel footpaths. His eyes flitted over groups, different people huddled in circles animatedly discussing hairstyles and cars, depending on the sex. And then he saw her. Sitting on the bench absorbed in a Biology book oblivious of the melee going on around her. Something clicked in his mind. Oh no! Biology!
He stopped, trying to think of an excuse. He shrugged his shoulders, he couldn't possibly lie to her. All she had to do was look into his eyes and read the truth like one would read a novel. He sat down next to her on the bench. She didn't make any move, her eyes were on the text book.
"What time is it?" she spoke for the first time.
"Uh, 8:10" he replied guiltily.
"And what time were you supposed to be here?" she still didn't move.
"Mmm, a quarter to eight."
"And why were you supposed to be here at a quarter to eight, Tristan?" her tone was even. He winced. She was pulling out his torture.
"Well, we were going to write up our plan for out Biology prac." Silence.
"I was here at a quarter to eight, where were you?
"I forgot.but we can do it this afternoon, let's say, at my house?" he couldn't help but slip that in. Her head swiveled towards him, bringing her blue eyes in contact with his.
"Unfortunately for you, that won't happen due to the fact that our prac is in 5 minutes."
Tristan swallowed. "Look, Rory, I'm really sorry but." his words were cut off as she hefted the heavy volume and cracked it down on his shoulder.
"Hey! Ow!" Tristan rubbed his shoulder. "I'll make some excuse to the teacher, she favors me already." Rory sighed and pulled a sheet from the Biology book, and handed it to Tristan. He took it and saw pages full with the write up for the prac assignment. She sat there, alone, writing the prac out without complaint. A warm flush suffused over his cheeks.
She rose and walked off, making her way to Biology. He stared at the paper for a few more seconds then followed her steps. He caught up with her in 2 long strides.
"Sorry, I totally forgot that today we had the prac and that we were meeting earlier.." she cut him off.
"Y'know, if I was Paris, your head would be the centerpiece on her fireplace by now." He smiled wryly, thinking of Paris's ferocious determination to graduate as Valedictorian, regardless of how many people she had to stomp on to get there.
He tried again. "Rory, I really am sorry, I'll make it up to you.you'll enjoy it, I promise" he leered, leaning into her.
"Sure you can, you can dissect the frog by yourself" she retorted as they climbed the stairs.
"Aww c'mon, I'll save you the intestines" he joked, feeling relief in knowing that she had forgiven him.
******
Rory sat on a stool at her station, watching Tristan carefully, monitoring his every move.
"Watch out Tristan, she bites" Madeline waltzed past, dragging her hand across his back, smiling coyly. Rory ignored the comment and tuned her attention back to the instruction sheet.
"Tristan make a incision above the left leg.Tristan?" But Tristan was gone, his mind elsewhere. He was staring at the scalpel, shifting in the light, watching it wink and flash at him. It was so sharp, two cuts placed strategically and deeply enough and he could leave all this. Forget graduation, forget the expectations, and forget the pain of not being loved. He felt this insatiable desire to slice his skin, watch the red lifeline ooze and puddle on the floor, smear it across his chest, marking himself with an inescapable fate.
"Tristan?" He felt a small hand on his sleeve.
"Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?" He said vaguely.
"Make a incision above the left leg.are you okay?" Rory studied his pale face. "You really spaced there for a moment"
"Sure, left leg, right?" he held the scalpel poised.
"Left leg" Rory confirmed.
She sat back, and watched Tristan slice and cut in perfection. They'd become awkward friends, an unseen pact between them. Ever since the kiss, they'd come to an understanding. He still flirted with her, but she was so pickled in it, she could shrug it off with a loathing remark, their words sparring. It was a well played game on both sides, it brought security, a ritual that they'd both miss in its absence.
Rory knew that Tristan was mostly show, a expectation placed on him before he was born was the cause of that. But the look behind his eyes was different. The look of a desperate person, losing their battle against an unseen force. She bit her nail, wanting to ask him, but the time and place prevented her.
"What's next?" He turned and asked her.
"That's it, we're done, all we gotta do is draw a diagram" Rory smiled sincerely. Her smile said more important things than she could imagine. He stopped in surprise, and stared at her, a smile slowly forming at the corners of his mouth. Picking up a pencil, he sat down and drew, enjoying her companionship and the comfortable silence.
Rory walked to her locker, thanking the good Lord that the day was over. It was all becoming too much. Far too much. What a crap day. She dropped her bag to her feet with a thump, twisting the dial to her combination. She tugged at the handle, her frustration of her day making itself known. A poster was stuck on her locker, in garish blue and red writing it scrawled "Hartford's Annual Carnival" She ripped it off, aggravated and thumped the door, trying to loosen the mechanism inside with no success.
Tristan came up behind her and stood there, arms folded and in a reprimanding tone he said "Mary, you should treat school property with more respect"
"Yeah, well, the school should be able to afford lockers that actually work, they ask enough in fees." She smacked it again her anger. The locker door remained closed, a steely foe, a worthy enemy. Tristan made a 'tsk tsk tsk' sound. Rory turned.
"Stop enjoying my misery and open my locker" she poked a pointed finger in his chest.
"Ooh, a angry Mary.look out for the whip." He caught her eye. "If you insist" he leaned over and the locker opened in an instant. How does he do that, she moaned to herself.
Tristan rested against the locker next to hers and watched her sort her books, dumping some in her bag and discard others. He cleared his throat. "I came by to see if you were going to be attending the Carnival this Saturday?" She remained focused on her locker.
"Yes, and like any good Chilton student, I volunteered to man a cake stall, but I don't think that you have volunteered, right?" Rory's doubt showed plainly in her words.
"A cake stall hey?" He ignored her question.
"Yes a cake stall." Rory retorted and closed the locker with a slam. "Now if you don't mind, I have to go catch my bus"
"See you there Rory" he called to her retreating back.
"Oh, I'm pretty sure you'll see me before then. Stalker." She hissed teasingly, and waved a hand over her head, as the crowd swallowed her whole
Author's Note: A bit longer, and I foresee this fic to be slow moving. As usual, feedback is greatly appreciated. I'm trying to avoid clichés.
Tristan guided his Jag smoothly into the Chilton parking lot, reserved specifically for the students. He flicked the keys and the machine's purr seeped out slowly, leaving him in silence. He checked his expensive designer wristwatch.8:05 am. Should I get out and be smothered in the mobs of so-called friends and the admiring glances of girls? Or should I hide out here longer?
He released a long sigh and adjusted his collar. Go out and face the procrastinating hordes, I guess. Scooping his books under his arm, he slid out of the car, shutting the door with a muted click. Tristan squinted in the sunlight, his eyes struggling to adjust to the change of light.
A firm hand gripped his arm. Tristan wasn't surprised.
"DuGrey! Looking a little pasty I see? Someone keep you inside all weekend eh?" Tristan inwardly groaned, recognizing the voice. Brad Lance. One of his 'friends' if he dared to say. A loud mouthed gossip, ready to spread the latest scandal like a virus, a particular favorite in the 'Golden Circle' at school. But he smiled a smile, laughed and said something like "Wouldn't you like to know"
Tristan nodded politely to the female student clinging to Brad's arm and stepped the other direction. His feet crunched on the dewy grass and then on the gravel footpaths. His eyes flitted over groups, different people huddled in circles animatedly discussing hairstyles and cars, depending on the sex. And then he saw her. Sitting on the bench absorbed in a Biology book oblivious of the melee going on around her. Something clicked in his mind. Oh no! Biology!
He stopped, trying to think of an excuse. He shrugged his shoulders, he couldn't possibly lie to her. All she had to do was look into his eyes and read the truth like one would read a novel. He sat down next to her on the bench. She didn't make any move, her eyes were on the text book.
"What time is it?" she spoke for the first time.
"Uh, 8:10" he replied guiltily.
"And what time were you supposed to be here?" she still didn't move.
"Mmm, a quarter to eight."
"And why were you supposed to be here at a quarter to eight, Tristan?" her tone was even. He winced. She was pulling out his torture.
"Well, we were going to write up our plan for out Biology prac." Silence.
"I was here at a quarter to eight, where were you?
"I forgot.but we can do it this afternoon, let's say, at my house?" he couldn't help but slip that in. Her head swiveled towards him, bringing her blue eyes in contact with his.
"Unfortunately for you, that won't happen due to the fact that our prac is in 5 minutes."
Tristan swallowed. "Look, Rory, I'm really sorry but." his words were cut off as she hefted the heavy volume and cracked it down on his shoulder.
"Hey! Ow!" Tristan rubbed his shoulder. "I'll make some excuse to the teacher, she favors me already." Rory sighed and pulled a sheet from the Biology book, and handed it to Tristan. He took it and saw pages full with the write up for the prac assignment. She sat there, alone, writing the prac out without complaint. A warm flush suffused over his cheeks.
She rose and walked off, making her way to Biology. He stared at the paper for a few more seconds then followed her steps. He caught up with her in 2 long strides.
"Sorry, I totally forgot that today we had the prac and that we were meeting earlier.." she cut him off.
"Y'know, if I was Paris, your head would be the centerpiece on her fireplace by now." He smiled wryly, thinking of Paris's ferocious determination to graduate as Valedictorian, regardless of how many people she had to stomp on to get there.
He tried again. "Rory, I really am sorry, I'll make it up to you.you'll enjoy it, I promise" he leered, leaning into her.
"Sure you can, you can dissect the frog by yourself" she retorted as they climbed the stairs.
"Aww c'mon, I'll save you the intestines" he joked, feeling relief in knowing that she had forgiven him.
******
Rory sat on a stool at her station, watching Tristan carefully, monitoring his every move.
"Watch out Tristan, she bites" Madeline waltzed past, dragging her hand across his back, smiling coyly. Rory ignored the comment and tuned her attention back to the instruction sheet.
"Tristan make a incision above the left leg.Tristan?" But Tristan was gone, his mind elsewhere. He was staring at the scalpel, shifting in the light, watching it wink and flash at him. It was so sharp, two cuts placed strategically and deeply enough and he could leave all this. Forget graduation, forget the expectations, and forget the pain of not being loved. He felt this insatiable desire to slice his skin, watch the red lifeline ooze and puddle on the floor, smear it across his chest, marking himself with an inescapable fate.
"Tristan?" He felt a small hand on his sleeve.
"Huh? Sorry, what were you saying?" He said vaguely.
"Make a incision above the left leg.are you okay?" Rory studied his pale face. "You really spaced there for a moment"
"Sure, left leg, right?" he held the scalpel poised.
"Left leg" Rory confirmed.
She sat back, and watched Tristan slice and cut in perfection. They'd become awkward friends, an unseen pact between them. Ever since the kiss, they'd come to an understanding. He still flirted with her, but she was so pickled in it, she could shrug it off with a loathing remark, their words sparring. It was a well played game on both sides, it brought security, a ritual that they'd both miss in its absence.
Rory knew that Tristan was mostly show, a expectation placed on him before he was born was the cause of that. But the look behind his eyes was different. The look of a desperate person, losing their battle against an unseen force. She bit her nail, wanting to ask him, but the time and place prevented her.
"What's next?" He turned and asked her.
"That's it, we're done, all we gotta do is draw a diagram" Rory smiled sincerely. Her smile said more important things than she could imagine. He stopped in surprise, and stared at her, a smile slowly forming at the corners of his mouth. Picking up a pencil, he sat down and drew, enjoying her companionship and the comfortable silence.
Rory walked to her locker, thanking the good Lord that the day was over. It was all becoming too much. Far too much. What a crap day. She dropped her bag to her feet with a thump, twisting the dial to her combination. She tugged at the handle, her frustration of her day making itself known. A poster was stuck on her locker, in garish blue and red writing it scrawled "Hartford's Annual Carnival" She ripped it off, aggravated and thumped the door, trying to loosen the mechanism inside with no success.
Tristan came up behind her and stood there, arms folded and in a reprimanding tone he said "Mary, you should treat school property with more respect"
"Yeah, well, the school should be able to afford lockers that actually work, they ask enough in fees." She smacked it again her anger. The locker door remained closed, a steely foe, a worthy enemy. Tristan made a 'tsk tsk tsk' sound. Rory turned.
"Stop enjoying my misery and open my locker" she poked a pointed finger in his chest.
"Ooh, a angry Mary.look out for the whip." He caught her eye. "If you insist" he leaned over and the locker opened in an instant. How does he do that, she moaned to herself.
Tristan rested against the locker next to hers and watched her sort her books, dumping some in her bag and discard others. He cleared his throat. "I came by to see if you were going to be attending the Carnival this Saturday?" She remained focused on her locker.
"Yes, and like any good Chilton student, I volunteered to man a cake stall, but I don't think that you have volunteered, right?" Rory's doubt showed plainly in her words.
"A cake stall hey?" He ignored her question.
"Yes a cake stall." Rory retorted and closed the locker with a slam. "Now if you don't mind, I have to go catch my bus"
"See you there Rory" he called to her retreating back.
"Oh, I'm pretty sure you'll see me before then. Stalker." She hissed teasingly, and waved a hand over her head, as the crowd swallowed her whole