Rory was uncomfortably aware of Henry's car idling in the driveway behind her. Jess had been a little suspicious of her sudden desire to see her grandparents, Lane much more so, and she could feel the concentration levelled her way. The back of her neck prickled.

The door swung wide, and Rory waved quickly at the car, falling inside the house eagerly.

"Hi. Where's my grandmother? I need to speak to her. It's urgent."

"I'm afraid she has visitors. I can take you to them—" Rory's widening eyes must have been enough of an answer. Ellen — Helen? — pulled a door open and gestured inside. "If you'd like to wait I'll tell her you're here."

"Thanks."

It was a relief to be on her own again. Rory liked this room. There was a mirror here that she was getting in the will. And she liked the carpet, thick enough that she could pace soundlessly.

It was twenty minutes before she heard voices calling out goodbyes. Another ten before her grandmother finally entered.

"Rory. What is the matter? It's very late and I had to tell your grandfather quite a lot of lies to prevent him from rushing in here and demanding an explanation."

"Nothing's wrong. Nothing serious. And I know it's late and I'm sorry but I had to talk to you. Do you remember that boy that I told you about?"

"The DuGrey boy. Sit down, Rory. Try to relax."

The nearest chair was a hardback, embroidered with flowers, or maybe vines, and she found herself wondering why she hadn't stuck a post-it on it. "Yes. Tristan. You see, we went out tonight and—"

"You went out with him?"

"Not like that. Jess was there."

"You went out with your boyfriend and the boy who isn't your boyfriend, but with whom you had sexual relations."

Well, phrased like that, it sounded ridiculous. Sounded even more ridiculous coming from her grandmother's mouth. Not nearly as awful as it would sound coming from her mother's. "It's complicated. Tristan's my friend. And I couldn't make him not be my friend, because he wouldn't let me. And I can't, because he's friends with all the rest of my friends, you remember Lane?"

"No."

"Well you should."

"You should introduce us, then."

"Sorry. But Lane is almost my only friend. There are other people that I'm friends with, but they're just not that important. So I didn't know what to do."

"You're not making sense."

"With Tristan. Because he's Lane's boyfriend's best friend."

"Oh. That is difficult."

"And so we're just together all the time. Even before anything happened."

"Just make it clear to the boy that the incident will not be repeated and get back to whatever it is you do."

"I don't think he wants that to happen."

"It doesn't matter what he wants. He's not going to be vindictive, is he? Would he tell Jess?"

"No." This shouldn't be hard. Rory knew what her grandmother thought; it was why she had come to her. That didn't seem to make a difference. "You think I should choose Tristan."

"I don't know," Emily said. "I want you to choose him, but you don't have to."

And that was so alluring, not having to do something. She really didn't want to admit to this, even if it was exactly what her grandmother wanted to hear. "I don't want things to go back to normal either."

An eyebrow arched. "You don't."

"It was just— I was out with him tonight, and there was this other girl."

"Of course there was."

"I wanted her to go away, I want her to, and I can't expect him to do that."

"Without offering something in return."

"Right."

"Well I suggest you offer it."

It was really that simple. Rory was just having trouble accepting it. "But I'll have to tell Jess."

"No you won't. There's no point hurting the boy. Just tell him it's over, give it a week or two, and move on."

"To Tristan."

"Yes. If you haven't changed your mind again by then."

"I'm not that fickle."

"History suggests otherwise."

"Grandma!"

"It's the truth. Now, what are you going to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"You can't just break up with Jess. You'll have to come to some kind of agreement with Tristan first."

"Talk to him. About whatever this is, and—agree. Okay. I can do that. Is that a good idea?"

"Of course it is. You have a relationship; you shouldn't walk away from it without sufficient reason. Make sure you both have the same ideas about where this is going. I don't want to say that you should ascertain his intentions, but, well."

"Take it as a given?"

"Thank you." They stared at each other for a moment. Emily blinked. "What are you waiting for?"

Rory blinked back. "Waiting for?"

"You've had my opinion. Now act on it."

"Right now?" She was scrambling to her feet as she spoke.

"What better time?"

"I don't know, maybe this isn't such a—"

"This is just why you have to do it immediately. If I give you time, you'll talk yourself out of it. Then we'll be right back where we started. I expect to be kept informed."

"Not a problem."

"I don't think I know this boy. I'll have to call on his grandmother. Oh, I can't, she's in — on a rest cure. And his parents are on vacation. Hmm."

Rory didn't correct her. Five minutes later she was starting her grandfather's car.

*

Terror. Sheer terror. She'd never driven a car this expensive. She had no comprehension of the amount of money it must have cost. Maybe more than everything her mother owned. Certainly more than everything she owned. Breathing out, she slid carefully into Tristan's driveway. Thank God the roads had been almost deserted.

It wasn't until she had knocked on the door that she realised she'd been panicking about the wrong thing. The maid was completely disinterested in everything but her paycheque, but what if Tristan's mother answered? Jesus, what if his father answered?

Tristan answered. It wasn't a relief. He looked rumpled, touchable, and she had to remind herself that there were issues to be dealt with first.

"Hi."

He looked surprised to see her. "Hey."

They were just standing there. It wasn't helping her panic. "I want to talk to you."

He frowned. "Come in."

"Thanks." Now they were watching each other in the hall. She didn't want to do this by the door. "Can we go somewhere else?"

An uncertain glance around before he headed towards the TV room, homing pigeon-like. The pool sparkled aquamarine outside, and reflected ripples danced on the walls. They sat opposite each other. He didn't turn on the light.

"It's late." Rory wished people would stop saying that. It wasn't midnight yet. "Is something wrong?"

His eyes were all shine and shadow. She wanted to see them properly, so she could gauge his reaction.

"No. I just thought we should talk about what's been going on. It's been awkward lately, huh?"

"Has it?"

"Yes." She still wasn't sure if he'd been trying to make it so. And she had no idea how to broach this subject. She'd never had to before. "I've been thinking about what you said."

"Which pearl of wisdom exactly?"

"You said I couldn't pretend that it hadn't happened. That we hadn't — happened."

"Ah."

Impossible to tell what that meant, and this could go spectacularly badly. She could still back out. "You were right."

"What does that mean?"

Straight to the point that she'd wanted to postpone. She could do this. This was a good idea. "I think I made a mistake."

"By having sex with me. Yes, I gathered you thought that."

"No. I think I made a mistake afterwards. I just couldn't accept it. I still can't believe I did that to Jess."

Tristan turned away from her, looking past the glaring lights into the darkness. "Did what to Jess? You can fix it. It doesn't have to mean anything, Rory."

Her mouth was dry, and she licked her lips, leaning forward. It wasn't enough, and she slid to the edge of her seat. "It did mean something. It does, Tristan."

His head didn't move, but his eyes slid towards her, remote and indecipherable. Her fingers laced together, clenching nervously.

"You said I should just have broken up with Jess, and you were right. I was just scared. I've never done anything like that before. I can't believe I did that to him."

"You have to believe it. You started it."

"I know. I just didn't—when I saw you with her and you said—" She felt an echo of that pain, and her hands twisted. "I can't do this anymore. I can't pretend."

He turned back to her, face lit blue, and she almost wished he'd stayed in the shadows. Completely expressionless, like stone, and her breath sighed out at the memory of his warmth.

"Can we— I made a mistake. I know. I know I shouldn't have done any of that, to anyone. And I'm sorry, but I can't change any of it, and I know it's all wrong. Can't we just—"

She had nothing left to say, no words to ask for this, and she moved to him, rising from her chair, carefully placing her hands on his knees. He didn't respond, but he didn't pull away, so she kept going. His breath was hot and fast on her lips, her heart in her mouth, and his eyes were fluttering closed. Her mouth was open when she brushed it across his lips, and she felt his head tilt, his forehead suddenly a solid weight against her own.

She knew he'd let her kiss him, knew he was about to take the decision out of her hands, and there was a choked gasp from the doorway. The light snapped on. She wondered hazily if Margot would mind, and pulled away before she found out at top volume.

It wasn't Margot. Crystal's eyes were blazing, darting between Rory and Tristan. Blame divided evenly between them, and the guilt came in a rush. Rory hadn't even considered Crystal. She hadn't cared at all, and still didn't, but she regretted that. The anger came in a rush too, right behind the jealousy, and Crystal had no right to be here. None.

Rory could see Crystal's mouth move in soundless fury; there was really no appropriate response to this situation. Her eyes locked on Rory's, her face twisted, and she'd found something to latch on to.

"You're wearing my make-up. I can't believe you were going to fuck my boyfriend wearing my make-up."

Replies sped through Rory's mind — she hadn't been about to fuck him, he wasn't Crystal's boyfriend, she hadn't asked for Crystal's stupid friendship let alone her make-up — but they all lodged in her throat. "I'm sorry."

Crystal looked away abruptly, and when she looked at Tristan, the anger was gone, leaving only the pain it had hidden. "I can't believe you'd do this to me."

She spun around, blundering into the doorframe on her way out.

"Crystal." Tristan was slipping out from under Rory, hurrying after his girlfriend. "Crystal!"

When he was gone, Rory stared at her hands, considering her options. She could run after Tristan and Crystal. She could lie down on the floor and die. Neither appealed. Instead, she pulled herself into Tristan's vacated seat, and curled up around herself, waiting for him to return.