Readers: I have just discovered how great reviews really are...keep 'em
coming!
A few important reminders: 1. Suing is bad 2. I love you all, so don't be angry if I knocked your story directly. 3. I'm writing as fast as I can, but you have to be patient if you want it to be good. 4. reviews are good 5. reviews are very good. 6. review. 7. when you review (hint hint) you may include some of the things in stories that bug you in stories, and I'll do my best to include them. That is all. Now on with the story.
--authors_anonymous
p.s. Jess says 'hi'
Tristan sat slouched in his chair, his long legs stretched out under Rory's desk. Every so often, he would shift, and ever so slightly brush his large feet against Rory's petite ones. Each time he did so, she shivered, goose bumps rising to her skin. Impatiently, she glanced at the clock on the wall. 'Not much longer' she told herself repeatedly. The algebra equations in front of her no longer made sense. Longingly, she glanced outside at the sunny April weather. 'One more period until freedom' she thought, and as if the spirit of a cat had taken over her body, she stretched back with her hands, and knocked straight into the bottle of coke on Tristan's desk. The sugary liquid spilt over the desk top and dripped onto Tristan, soaking into his papers all the while.
"Mr. Dugrey!" stormed [another unidentified teacher] angrily. Without a word, or so much as a backward glance at Rory, Tristan hurried out and came back a moment later armed with paper towels. He had successfully disturbed the class, as many of the girls were standing on their chairs to avoid the sticky substance, and the boys were laughing.
"Clean that up immediately!" said the teacher sharply, "and the rest of you, get back to work!" The uproar died down, and with a guilty conscience, Rory sat down, bending over her paper inconspicuously. When Tristan sat down, he tapped Rory.
"So, did you do that purposely?" he asked maliciously.
"I'm so sorry!" said Rory, shocked by his accusing eyes.
"Yeah, well, you should have though of that earlier!" Tristan snarled.
Rory turned back around sharply, and felt her eyes well up with unshed tears. It had truly been an accident, and despite last year's declaration, she knew in her heart that she actually never hated Tristan- far from it. Somewhere far off, the bell rang, and she quickly packed up her books and fled, Tristan close in pursuit.
"So I guess you thought that was funny?" asked Tristan, cornering Rory.
"I didn't mean too and you know that!" replied Rory angrily. She tried to edge around him, but his hands were pressed on her shoulders, and she couldn't move (while Tristan was participating at Military School, he had learnt how to stop all body movement by holding the shoulders). Tears of anger as well as pain filled her eyes, and she struggled violently to escape from his grasp.
"Let me go!" she wheezed (she may be skinny, but her exercise habits suck), "don't touch me!"
Tristan took one hand and griped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Not even like this?" he asked, and slowly lowered his mouth towards hers.
At this point in the story, Rory kneed him in the groin.
Tristan keeled over, clutching his lower area in pain. Rory took the opportunity to escape. For the next hour, Rory became emerged in her studies, and being the conscientious student that she was, even stayed behind for a few minutes to check over the in-class essay that she wrote. That was when she noticed Tristan leaning on the doorway.
Without so much as looking at him, Rory, grabbed her backpack and left, trying not to touch his gorgeous body with hers when she passed him. To her surprise (and slight disappointment), he didn't attempt to grab her. Rory raced out the door and ran straight at the bus stop. She saw the bus pulling away, with no intention of stopping. She sat down on the bench and tried to interest herself with the novel she was reading, but to no avail. The blond haired, blue-eyed boy was haunting her thoughts.
"You missed the bus," said a familiar voice.
"Yeah," replied Rory faintly, trying to avoid his gaze.
"Do you need a ride?"
"No thank you" she said. Inwardly, she thought 'god, this guy is wishy- washy!!!'
"The next bus won't come till tomorrow morning" Tristan said.
"I can wait."
"You can be really stubborn sometimes, you know that?" he asked, sitting down next to her.
"Gee, thanks, I hadn't noticed."
Tristan sat silently for a few moments.
"Are you just going to sit there?" asked Rory, irritated.
"Look, Rory," he said, turning towards her, "I know we had a bad past." Rory snorted. "Okay, fine, a really crappy past." Tristan amended.
"The past is the past" said Rory, speaking as philosophically as she could, hopping to impress him.
"Well...I think we should start over."
"Start over?"
"You know...maybe be friends."
"Friends?" asked Rory, confused. After all, wasn't this the boy who had spent all last year trying to get in her pants using the grade two boy approach?
Tristan sighed. "Just friends." After a few moments he added, "Look, can I give you a ride home?"
"Yes please."
"So..." said Rory, trying to make conversation. "Uh...I like your car."
"Oh, thanks."
"It's really..."she paused, trying desperately to think of a long complicated word, but failing miserably, "...nice"
"Thanks."
"Uhh...so do you know where I live?"
"Yeah." said Tristan shortly.
"What? How?" asked Rory, bemused and befuddled.
"Do you really need to ask?" he replied, looking over at her lustfully.
"No, stupid question, sorry." She stared out at the moving scenery. "I'm babbling, I know, I don't usually talk this much." she said, apologetically.
The rest of the car ride passed in comfortable silence. (Because they were meant to be together, and really, no words could describe what they both knew each other was thinking, so no matter how awkward the silence, somehow, it would always be comfortable).
When Rory finally stepped out of the car (fifteen minutes after the comfortable silence lapsed into slightly unnerving but before 'let me out of the car before I pull out my rifle and shoot you' silence) all she could think of was how much she wanted him.
And he wanted friendship. She shook her head in disbelief as she watched him drive away. She'd have to do something about that.
The solution came in the source of some schoolwork, conveniently placed in chapter 5.
A few important reminders: 1. Suing is bad 2. I love you all, so don't be angry if I knocked your story directly. 3. I'm writing as fast as I can, but you have to be patient if you want it to be good. 4. reviews are good 5. reviews are very good. 6. review. 7. when you review (hint hint) you may include some of the things in stories that bug you in stories, and I'll do my best to include them. That is all. Now on with the story.
--authors_anonymous
p.s. Jess says 'hi'
Tristan sat slouched in his chair, his long legs stretched out under Rory's desk. Every so often, he would shift, and ever so slightly brush his large feet against Rory's petite ones. Each time he did so, she shivered, goose bumps rising to her skin. Impatiently, she glanced at the clock on the wall. 'Not much longer' she told herself repeatedly. The algebra equations in front of her no longer made sense. Longingly, she glanced outside at the sunny April weather. 'One more period until freedom' she thought, and as if the spirit of a cat had taken over her body, she stretched back with her hands, and knocked straight into the bottle of coke on Tristan's desk. The sugary liquid spilt over the desk top and dripped onto Tristan, soaking into his papers all the while.
"Mr. Dugrey!" stormed [another unidentified teacher] angrily. Without a word, or so much as a backward glance at Rory, Tristan hurried out and came back a moment later armed with paper towels. He had successfully disturbed the class, as many of the girls were standing on their chairs to avoid the sticky substance, and the boys were laughing.
"Clean that up immediately!" said the teacher sharply, "and the rest of you, get back to work!" The uproar died down, and with a guilty conscience, Rory sat down, bending over her paper inconspicuously. When Tristan sat down, he tapped Rory.
"So, did you do that purposely?" he asked maliciously.
"I'm so sorry!" said Rory, shocked by his accusing eyes.
"Yeah, well, you should have though of that earlier!" Tristan snarled.
Rory turned back around sharply, and felt her eyes well up with unshed tears. It had truly been an accident, and despite last year's declaration, she knew in her heart that she actually never hated Tristan- far from it. Somewhere far off, the bell rang, and she quickly packed up her books and fled, Tristan close in pursuit.
"So I guess you thought that was funny?" asked Tristan, cornering Rory.
"I didn't mean too and you know that!" replied Rory angrily. She tried to edge around him, but his hands were pressed on her shoulders, and she couldn't move (while Tristan was participating at Military School, he had learnt how to stop all body movement by holding the shoulders). Tears of anger as well as pain filled her eyes, and she struggled violently to escape from his grasp.
"Let me go!" she wheezed (she may be skinny, but her exercise habits suck), "don't touch me!"
Tristan took one hand and griped her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes.
"Not even like this?" he asked, and slowly lowered his mouth towards hers.
At this point in the story, Rory kneed him in the groin.
Tristan keeled over, clutching his lower area in pain. Rory took the opportunity to escape. For the next hour, Rory became emerged in her studies, and being the conscientious student that she was, even stayed behind for a few minutes to check over the in-class essay that she wrote. That was when she noticed Tristan leaning on the doorway.
Without so much as looking at him, Rory, grabbed her backpack and left, trying not to touch his gorgeous body with hers when she passed him. To her surprise (and slight disappointment), he didn't attempt to grab her. Rory raced out the door and ran straight at the bus stop. She saw the bus pulling away, with no intention of stopping. She sat down on the bench and tried to interest herself with the novel she was reading, but to no avail. The blond haired, blue-eyed boy was haunting her thoughts.
"You missed the bus," said a familiar voice.
"Yeah," replied Rory faintly, trying to avoid his gaze.
"Do you need a ride?"
"No thank you" she said. Inwardly, she thought 'god, this guy is wishy- washy!!!'
"The next bus won't come till tomorrow morning" Tristan said.
"I can wait."
"You can be really stubborn sometimes, you know that?" he asked, sitting down next to her.
"Gee, thanks, I hadn't noticed."
Tristan sat silently for a few moments.
"Are you just going to sit there?" asked Rory, irritated.
"Look, Rory," he said, turning towards her, "I know we had a bad past." Rory snorted. "Okay, fine, a really crappy past." Tristan amended.
"The past is the past" said Rory, speaking as philosophically as she could, hopping to impress him.
"Well...I think we should start over."
"Start over?"
"You know...maybe be friends."
"Friends?" asked Rory, confused. After all, wasn't this the boy who had spent all last year trying to get in her pants using the grade two boy approach?
Tristan sighed. "Just friends." After a few moments he added, "Look, can I give you a ride home?"
"Yes please."
"So..." said Rory, trying to make conversation. "Uh...I like your car."
"Oh, thanks."
"It's really..."she paused, trying desperately to think of a long complicated word, but failing miserably, "...nice"
"Thanks."
"Uhh...so do you know where I live?"
"Yeah." said Tristan shortly.
"What? How?" asked Rory, bemused and befuddled.
"Do you really need to ask?" he replied, looking over at her lustfully.
"No, stupid question, sorry." She stared out at the moving scenery. "I'm babbling, I know, I don't usually talk this much." she said, apologetically.
The rest of the car ride passed in comfortable silence. (Because they were meant to be together, and really, no words could describe what they both knew each other was thinking, so no matter how awkward the silence, somehow, it would always be comfortable).
When Rory finally stepped out of the car (fifteen minutes after the comfortable silence lapsed into slightly unnerving but before 'let me out of the car before I pull out my rifle and shoot you' silence) all she could think of was how much she wanted him.
And he wanted friendship. She shook her head in disbelief as she watched him drive away. She'd have to do something about that.
The solution came in the source of some schoolwork, conveniently placed in chapter 5.