Disclaimer: I don't own this...so sad, isn't it? ;)
Pairing/Rating: Trory, PG-13
A/N: And drumroll please...here's the next chapter. *Sighs* I have way too much homework. Otherwise, this would've been updated a hell of a lot sooner. I'm really sorry. Thanks for your continued support through it all.
If I Fall || Chapter 6
...making it right...
*
Rory glanced at Tristan nervously for the umpteenth time in the past 5 minutes. She could finally admit to herself that she was attracted to him. But then that brought up the constant reminder not to do anything. Tristan led her down various hallways that were ornamented with various statues and paintings and upholstered with thick, Oriental carpeting. Finally he made a turn and stopped in his room.
Rory's eyes roved the room, taking in the leather furniture in one corner, the large bed littered with pillows and papers. The entire room was in green, black, and silver. All the furniture had a masculine flair. A silver laptop sat on the desk in one corner, and a bright white lamp glowed from one corner, illuminating the room.
"Wow."
"It's nothing special," Tristan replied, offhand and uncomfortable. "Let's get you some clothes."
She followed him into a long walk in closet. He grabbed a random pair of grey sweats and a white t-shirt.
"You know if we just add water, and you don't wear any undergarments, this could be a fun situation." Tristan smirked. Rory rolled her eyes at him.
"Save it for Girls Gone Wild, Dugrey."
"I don't know, Mary. You may be a good addition to the video. Or we could make our own video right here." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, and she looked away before grabbing the clothes, choosing to ignore his last comment. She felt a faint blush rush to her cheeks, warming her face, as she looked directly into his eyes. His smirk fell away, his lips slightly parted, as he held her gaze. An electricity crackled in the air.
"Where's the bathroom?" Rory whispered nervously.
"Down the hall, to your left. Second left, not first," he stated shakily.
Rory tried to recover. "I don't know, I might need a map for this one."
"Do you want me to show you?"
"You don't have to. But prepare your search parties if I don't come back before tomorrow." She smiled a small smile, borderline smirk.
"I don't have search parties. I'd have to you come after you myself. Then I think a thank-you kiss would in order," his eyes narrowed, and he donned the trademark smirk as he always did when they bantered.
"You should definitely invest in some search parties. That way when we common people come to your lovely home, we won't get lost on our way to the bathroom."
Tristan rolled his eyes, imitating her own from minutes earlier. Thoughtlessly, he placed his hand on the small of her back to lead her out of the room. Then he felt her body tense at his touch. He smiled to himself, hearing Rory's sharp intake of breath. He guided her out of the room and down the hallway to the bathroom, letting his fingers flutter over her hips before he let go of her, closing the door gently behind her.
*
Lorelai stood downstairs, tapping her foot impatiently. She had wanted to leave for the past half hour, but she couldn't find Rory or Tristan anywhere. Sighing, she turned towards the bar and asked for another glass of wine. She was about to take the first sip when someone tapped her on the shoulder.
"Hello Lorelai. You look nice."
Lorelai recognized the voice from the first syllable. Sighing, she turned slowly, seeing her mother in a midnight blue cocktail dress. A large flower adorned the bottom of the dress. She choked back her laughter.
"Thanks. Nice dress, Mom." Lorelai continued to resist the urge to snort.
"Thank you Lorelai. But perhaps you should pay more attention to where your daughter is than to my evening wear."
"Do you know exactly where she is?" she asked, then quickly added in before Emily had time to scold her. "I do, but do you? I mean, we all know you need to keep better track of your granddaughter," Lorelai amended, mock scolding Emily.
"Of course I know. I saw the whole wine-incident, and then I believe the DuGrey boy took her upstairs to get a change of clothes. At least, I would hope that's why they went upstairs. Not that anything would surprise me at this point. Escpecially after you," she added coldly.
A variety of expressions passed over Lorelai's face just then. The first, being shock and confusion that Rory was off somewhere with Tristan. The wine-incident? Then anger replaced both in Lorelai's hard blue gaze. Her mother's comment stung dully, and the reality of the situation set in. Rory. And Tristan. Upstairs. Together. But they weren't doing anything. Were they? Lorelai, confused and tired, and angry with her mother, turned and walked away, for once, at loss of comeback.
"Especially after you."
*
Rory opened the door and peered out into the hallway, a wad of blue, shimmery fabric in her arms. Uncomfortably, she tugged at the bottom of the t-shirt. Tristan was nowhere in sight. She padded silently down the carpeted hallway and back to his room. She peered in the doorway. He wasn't in the room, but the door to the closet was open. She crept into the room uncertainly, and walked closer to the closet. Just she was going in, she collided with a shirtless Tristan, who was coming out. Her dress fluttered to the floor as her eyes connected with him.
They skimmed over his golden skin, wound tightly and firmly to muscle and bone. She counted his abs, her eyes searching lower and lower, past his hipbones to the beginning of his boxers. Her mouth opened slightly, and a chill showered her with icy heat. Tristan was frozen there, unable to come up with a sarcastic remark.
His shirt was clinging to her girlish frame, accentuating her gently sloping curves. The hem stopped abruptly about an inch above the waistband of the pants, exposing a small expanse of pale, flat stomach. He repressed the urge to groan as his eyes skimmed her body hungrily.
"Sorry." Rory whispered, her eyes now focused on his bare feet.
"Hey, no big deal," he whispered back, his voice raw and uneven. He cupped her chin gently with warm fingers, forcing her eyes to his. He let go of her face as quickly as he had held it. Their eyes locked, blue to blue. She glanced at his mouth, soft and full, and he traced the curve of her lip. Backing away slowly, she tried to escape the electricity that was intoxicating her body's every cell.
But he followed, playing her with expertise, backing her up against a wall, stumbling into her. His arms were on either side of her, his shirtless chest against her clothed one. He pressed his hips into hers, and his eyes grew hazy as they met.
Rory wasn't used to this feeling. It had never been like this with Dean. Everything in their relationship had been chaste and innocent. But with Tristan...it was hard to keep control. And now, with his body pressed hard against hers, it was lost. Slowly, he leaned in to kiss her. Her mind screamed a warning to resist, but then another voice questioned why. Then her body made the decision for her.
Keeping her eyes on his, she leaned in, tilting her head. Soon, her lips were pressed to his, warm and soft. A spark ran up between her legs as his hips jerked suddenly and involuntarily against hers. She reciprocated his movement, pressing against him. His tongue traced the bottom of her mouth. He was playing her too expertly, and the desire that was bubbling overpowered her will to stop.
Tristan was lost from the moment their lips met. He couldn't believe this was happening. He was kissing Rory. Mary. Rory Gilmore. In his bedroom. He felt his hips move against hers, a movement he instantly wished he had repressed. But when her own hips jolted, he felt his regret melt away as the heat began to rush through him. In a fluttering motion, he ran his hands up and down her sides, feeling her breathe sharply between his lips. He started bringing his hands underneath the hem of her shirt. And that was when Rory snapped back to reality.
She pulled away suddenly, finally aware of what had just happened.
"Oh God, Tristan...I...oh..." she breathed.
"Rory, look," he began nervously.
Rory shook her head. She couldn't believe she had let herself go like that. To Tristan, of all people. It had only been a week since her break-up with Dean. And this was Tristan. She couldn't love Tristan.
"I have to go." And with one last glance, her blue eyes brimming, Rory ran from the room.
Tristan heard her footsteps pounding softly down the hallway, and back down the stairs. She had left her shoes and delicate sandals on his chair. He grabbed them hastily as an excuse to see her one last time, but by the time he rushed back down the stairs, she was on her way out the door. Defeated, he laid her silver sandals gently on the ground, the straps shining under the dim light of the hallway. Cinderella's slipper.
*
A/N: This was probably the shortest chapter, and maybe one of the worst, but everything will be explained and justified in the next chapter. THANK YOU to those of you who continue to support my writing and my stories. I luv ya ;) Please continue, and I'll always keep writing now matter what. The next chapter will be out soon.