Disclaimer: I don't own it. Because if I did, the show wouldn't be half as great. And naturally, there'd still be Tristan...and Jess...and it would be a fun little triangle ;)

Pairing/Rating: Trory/PG-13

A/N: And Here IT IS! To those of you who have been waiting, I dedicate this story to you. Thank you for the continued support, both of my work and of this story particularly. I wuv yew! ;)

If I Fall || Chapter 7

...and I know that...

*

Rory raced downstairs, grabbing Lorelai on the way through the crowd.

"Mom? Let's go," she whispered harshly, her eyes electric neon, wide and brimming with emotion that her mother tried and failed to read for one of the first times in the history of the Gilmore relationship.

"Ror? What's the matter, hon?" her mother choked out as she was dragged to the door. She paused and looked her over before getting in the car. "And whose clothes are those?

*

"So you kissed Hottie Man, huh?" her mom said, her voice tinged with sympathy, amusement, and a touch of confusion. Rory nodded numbly, hugging the pillow that rested on her end of the couch. She slumped deeper into the cushions and squeezed her eyes shut tighty, taking a slip of her coffee, and with it, a few moments to remember the kiss itself.

Lorelai stared at her, noticing her silence. "And, explain to me," she ventured. "This is the reason why we had to leave the cocktail party? Because, everyone knew it was bound to happen sooner or later. And he's pretty hot, and you're pretty

beautiful, and you like him, and he likes you. Why is this so bad?"

"Because," Rory mumbled, her lips pouted childishly. And suddenly, she didn't understand why she had run in the first place. Except for the simple fact that it had been Tristan Dugrey that she had kissed. Then she remembered. And with a new resolve, she knew she had to keep running. She had to prevent herself from being just another girl to him. She couldn't take that.

Her mother waited patiently for a few moments, and then wondered aloud softly, "Do you think that maybe you're scared?"

Rory shook her head. She wasn't scared. Was she? And then she knew. It wasn't the kiss that had caused her to run. The kiss in itself had been chilling, melting, satisfying in such a way that she questioned when the last time was that she had felt so whole. It was the inevitable hurt that would come after more kisses like it, and the reality that would set in-that after he left her, she would never be whole again. So...she was scared. She hated being wrong. Slightly, she nodded.

Lorelai glanced at her with understanding. "Honey, he likes you. A lot. Anyone can see that." She continued on, more lightly.

"So, you kissed the pouty, soft, irresistible lips of Hottie Man. Does this make you Hottie Girl?" Her mom prodded, half-joking, half-serious. The hidden implication of the question did not pass over Rory's head. She sighed.

"I don't know. For a little while, maybe Until Hottie Man finds an even hotter Hottie Girl."

"Well, even if it he does, which is totally not possible, by the way, shouldn't you just take the risk? Sometimes it can be worth it. Besides, not many girls can turn him into mush. And trust me, I can tell you turn him to mush, hon. Much the same way that he turns you to mush every time he looks at you." Lorelai smirked evilly at her last comment.

"He does not," she argued, albeit weakly.

Her mom just smiled. "Yeah, you're right. I totally get affected by kisses emotionally, even when they don't turn my mind to pudding and my legs to Jello."

"I'm not emotional!" she cried suddenly.

"Mmmhmm. OK. And Bill didn't do it with Monica."

"Gross. Now that's a mental picture I don't want to repeat."

"C'mon, I saw the way you looked at Bill. Like a giant cup of cof-"

"MOM! Please! That's too dirty." Rory yelled, her face threatening to break into a smile any minute.

"Pssh. Whatever. Bill is sexy." Rory looked disgusted. "Kidding. Amazing how kisses can drain your sense of humor, o daughter of mine."

"Anyway, before you retreat into your cloud of denial and Tristan-kisses, would you mind bestowing upon me one little detail of the kiss that started the emotion, here? Toss me a little bone. A scrap of meat..." Lorelai pause, added a "Dirty," and continued, "...something."

"It was fine."

"Fine? Puh-lease. Hottie Man kisses should be way off the charts here."

Rory's eyes became glazed as she recalled.

"So it was that good." Her mother smiled softly. "Have a good sleep, hon. At least you've got the weekend to figure this out."

"Mmmhmm...the weekend," Rory replied absently. She just remembered the feel of his arms around her. His chest up against her, his hips-then she stopped herself. She couldn't fall for Tristan. The problem was, deep down, she knew she already had.

As she fell asleep, the brought the collar of the white t-shirt of Tristan's that she was still wearing up to her face. Breathing deeply, she let the scent of him assail her senses and retreated into a hazy world of technicolored Tristan dreams.

*

Tristan Dugray couldn't sleep. His room was dark and hazy, the moonlight casting dim, dancing shadows in every corner. On his bedside table, her dress and her sandals caught his eye for the umpteenth time since he had attempted sleep. It only brought back a flood of memories that overpowered every sense.

The sweet scent of her hair, the endless ocean eyes, the tiny whimper that escaped, the way her torso shape complimented his, fitting together too perfectly. The way she bit her lips when she was nervous, the way her mouth curved soft against his, her irresistible blush that made him weaker. The way her smile melted the hardness of him and let loose a floodgate of emotions, the way she bantered with a little smirk and looked like she felt successful when she was able to think of a comeback that rendered him speechless.

He was a goner for the one girl that had run.

"Damn it."

*

The weekend came and went too quickly. Way too quickly for Rory, anyway. But for Tristan, Monday couldn't come fast enough. He needed to see her. To talk to her. To find out exactly what had happened. Why she had run. And meanwhile, Rory knew exactly why she had run. Because she was falling too fast for something that she thought would fade too fast.

*

Rory spent her morning avoiding him at all costs. Seeing him would bring up something bubbling up in her skin, softening her resolve. But coming out of her history class, reading the assignments for the week, proved to be the wrong move when she turned the corner and found herself face to face with him.

Tristan felt a smile coming on as he finally saw her nose in a book like always, one that he quickly repressed when he saw that the usually filmy, cloudless layers of blue were stormed with pain and nerves.

"Rory," he began, his voice soft, a plea in the eyes that were usually guarded. "Look, I'm sorry if I scared you. I didn't mean-"

"I gotta go," she interrupted, whispering softly, so quiet he wished he had imagined it.

She turned to walk away, but stopped when she felt his hand on her arm, pulling her back. He gave her arm a final yank, and her body crashed straight into his. Memories came flooding back, surrounding the two in a cloud of nostalgia in the middle of a crowded hallway.

Rory shut her eyes, leaning in for just a minute as he whispered in her ear, his breath hot and dangerous against the delicate shell. "You gotta know, before you leave me, that being with you was something that I never expected to need. But I do. And I'm not willing to give you up without a fight." His voice was raw, his blunt statement leaving her will broken. He turned and left, glancing at her one last time before he rounded the corner.

Rory just watched him walk, and then sighed, trying to forget the scent of him, the way his arm had burned her skin. But she felt a cooling patch of skin where he had touched, and all she could smell was his cologne, faint in the air around her, on her skin.

Her reverie was soon interrupted by the angry voice of Paris Gellar, who had witnessed the whole thing.

"You don't deserve him."

"Leave me alone, Paris," she sighed dejectedly.

"You don't deserve him," she repeated, louder. Rory just stared.

"Maybe you don't see it, but you are the girl. The one he wants. I don't know why. I'm not questioning. All I know is that he looks at you in some goddamn way that makes me want to throw up. And there you are, pushing away something that everyone wants. Stop being stupid and make up your mind."

"Mind your own business, ok?" Her voice was tinged with annoyance, her delicate features twisted into a testy expression.

"I would mind my business if you actually used what little brain cells you had and just went for him."

"Why do you care?" Rory exploded.

Paris just glared for a moment. "Because if I can't have him, the least I can do for him is make sure he ends up with someone who actually cares about his feelings for them, instead of someone like you Rory, who has guys falling for you left and right, and could care less what happens to any of them."

"I care for him!" Rory yelled.

"Well, your grades are good. Why can't you seem to figure out what is supposed to happen next?"

Paris stomped off, annoyed, and Rory opened her locker, absently dumping her books into the bottom. But when she glanced down to get her books for her homework, she noticed something glimmer on the top shelf.

She looked up and saw her sandals and her gauzy blue dress, free of stain and folded neatly on top of them. Sighing, she pulled them down. She was back where she started on Friday night, alone with thoughts of kisses and caresses from Tristan that she could never forget, no matter how much her mind willed her.

Meanwhile, a piece of paper slipped out from underneath the dress and fluttered to the bottom of her locker, never quite reaching her line of vision.

*

Short, crappy, filler chapter....the next chapter will be out soon. Sorry for the lack of updating. I luv you for supporting my story!