Rory got a few days off early in the week, because one of the girls who worked because she had important things to pay for, like food, needed the extra money.

She'd been irritated by the boredom, but she found herself at a loss without the distraction. Lane was busy with her mother, Henry, and the insane testing of intentions; Jess worked and made her feel bad; and Rory really needed another friend.

So she probably should have been glad when Tristan dropped by Tuesday morning, but somehow it didn't work out that way.

He sauntered into the kitchen while she was trying to figure out if the Pop-Tart was edible. She didn't look up until she'd shoved it into the toaster, and he was leaning casually against the counter beside her and was it supposed to be this hard? She wished he'd have the decency to stay away and not threaten her resolution. Not that her resolution was threatened. She glanced at the toaster. Still toasting.

"Hi."

A smile, and she responded to it before she meant to. "Hi."

"You've been hard to get hold of."

She had to speak before he asked if it was purposeful, because that train of questions couldn't stop anywhere good. "Have you been lying in wait?"

"No." Another smile, but this one wasn't directed at her. "Your mom told me you'd be here."

Something to talk to Lorelai about. Or not. She really didn't want to know what Tristan had been saying.

"Why are you here? I thought we'd agreed that we weren't going to—"

"I thought we'd agreed to be friends. Wasn't that what you suggested?"

It took her a couple of seconds to remember, because she had never actually imagined that he'd take her up on the offer. "Well, yes." And she couldn't back out, no matter how much she wanted to; but why was anything connected with Tristan always so much more difficult than she thought it would be?

"Well, in the spirit of friendship, I thought I'd stop by."

"It's good to see you, Tristan."

His gaze sharpened on her; he could unquestionably detect the lie. "I'm glad. I'd like to work this out. It would be a pity to lose each other over some—" Barely a hesitation, but a dozen unpleasant words that could fill the gap were cluttering her head before he spoke again. "—something relatively unimportant."

And that shouldn't have brought her heart stuttering to a stop, because that was good, that was what she wanted. Tristan had to move on, to move past this, and it was wonderful that he was willing to, wonderful that he valued her more as a person—that she was more important for herself than for the possibility of sex. That was what he was saying.

"Right. You're right."

"What else would I be?" A pause, like he was waiting for a reply, but she didn't have anything to say. "Well. I have to go. Things to do, people to not see. But we should get together."

"We should. We—" Shouldn't leave it so long next time, it hadn't been a week, keep it vague and—

"Tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow."

"My place. Lane and Henry will be there."

"Uh, I'm not—"

Her mouth was open, but nothing was coming out. Tristan didn't look anything but amused.

"I know you don't have plans. Henry's picking Lane up at eleven thirty. I'll tell him to stop by here too, okay?"

"Fine." There had to be some way out of it, but she couldn't— And she'd have to do it eventually, anyway. She'd just have to deal with it. She was sure she could come up with a way of doing that once she didn't have to look at Tristan.

"Great. I'll see you then."

She was rooted to the spot until she heard the front door close behind him, and when her mind was in working order again, she could only wonder how on earth she'd survived that, and why he had let her.

*

Lane was in the front, but somehow managed to hang over the back of the seat with the belt on. Rory didn't know if it was more safe or less than not having it on at all.

"Isn't Jess coming?"

"No, he's working."

"Oh." She sounded surprised, like Rory and Jess were joined at the hip, like it should hurt to be apart. "Well I hope you'll have fun."

Lane was distracted, and with reason. She was seventeen and, God willing, moving out soon, but still her mother was talking about installing motion sensors. It was almost enough to distract Rory when they were climbing out of the car; almost enough to turn her mind from things that she'd thought here before, things that had led to choices that she didn't want to remember, and nothing had changed. She could almost imagine the clock had been turned back and she got to choose again, and she knew she didn't want to hurt Jess, but how would she do that?

They didn't have to wait for Tristan to answer, but when he did it was more of the same, except this time it shocked the breath out of her. Phone to his ear, swimming trunks down to his knees, chest bare, and she rubbed her hands together, trying to remove the feel of his skin.

He led the way towards the pool, speaking cheerily into the phone; Rory trudged after him, trying to ignore the way Henry and Lane had paired off already. He hung up as she stepped into the sunlight, and he was calling to Crystal before she had noticed her presence.

She thought she should have been less shocked than she was. Moving forward on legs turned to jelly, she swallowed against incipient nausea, trying to concentrate on her breathing. That was supposed to help, but when she did, her lungs seized up and it was all she could do to remain aware.

Crystal was smiling, and the other night she had seemed — not nice, exactly, but not a bitch, which was unusual for Tristan. Not somebody Rory would have minded a month ago. She had nothing to complain about here. Nothing. And she had wanted this. She really had, and that seemed an impossibility.

"You remember Crystal, right? And you know everybody." Casual malice, so obvious that she didn't, and Tristan's voice was so warm.

"Henry." Triumphant. Proud smile thrown at Tristan, and she couldn't have forgotten Henry with the party in his honour and his name on everybody's lips. He had driven her home, and he looked pleased to see her, not just in the polite way that people usually reserved for girls that hung off Tristan's arm.

"Good to see you again. Having fun?"

He bore down on Crystal's lounger, his friendliness demanding the whole of her attention, and she gave it, an unhappy glance darted at the two whose names hadn't been offered up.

Lane went on the attack. "So, Tristan. Picking out jewellery?"

"Not for her. I'm thinking I need to start wearing more silver, though."

"Window-shopping or buying?"

"Seeing how it looks on. Happy with the party?"

An obvious change of subject, but Lane had her answer and was satisfied, and it wasn't something that Rory wanted to hear about. Maybe there wasn't anything to hear, maybe—it had been only days ago that Tristan had been more than sure of her and she had no idea what was happening. No idea what she was doing, let alone what Tristan was thinking.

Lane had hijacked Tristan, thrilled to have somebody new to rave to, and Rory stood alone for a moment before wandering over to Henry and Crystal. Better Crystal than Tristan. Crystal would be easy; Crystal would only hurt Rory by accident.

"Hi. Rory. Tristan's talked a lot about you."

She doubted it, and maybe she'd been wrong about Crystal hurting less, because she was being welcomed, like Crystal belonged and Rory didn't. It had been a long time since she'd felt uncomfortable in Tristan's house. Crystal was looking at her expectantly, maybe waiting for her to respond in kind, but Tristan hadn't talked about her and Rory wasn't saying anything.

"I'm glad to get the chance to meet you."

"You too." As if they hadn't met before and Crystal couldn't have cared less. But she cared now, something like eagerness in her smile, and she wanted to get to know Tristan's friends. That couldn't happen. This couldn't be happening; it wasn't fair.

Henry was talking, temporarily relieving Rory of the need to lie, and she couldn't stop herself from staring. Crystal looked so at home here, so confident, so different from the last time Rory had seen her. It took too much effort not to wonder what had changed, and didn't that mean she was wondering anyway?

Henry was looking at her a little oddly, and Rory forced herself to smile and play nicely. She had no reason not to.