Disclaimer: I don't own the characters. Yadda Yadda. The words used in this part are to a song called "If I'm Not In Love with You" sang by Faith Hill
Part 2
"It's not going to fall off."
"What? Oh. I know. I didn't think it would."
"Well you've had that thing in a death grip since I put it around your neck." Tristan briefly removed his eyes from the road, looking over at Rory in the passenger's seat.
Rory reluctantly removed her hand from it's protective position over the necklace, cautiously letting it fall into her lap. She nervously tugged at the fabric around her stomach, crossing and recrossing her arms over her bare midriff. Shifting in her seat, she turned her head slightly, focusing her gaze out the window at the passing scenery.
Silence lingered in the car as Rory watched the sun set over the Connecticut sky. With Tristan intently focused on his driving, she let her thoughts wander back to the circumstances which put her here. She was on her way to a wedding, of which she did not know any of the parties involved. Nevertheless, here she sat in a car, with Tristan of all people, wearing an expensive dress, paid for by him, and a necklace that was worth more than she would make at her summer job this year.
Tristan fixed his gaze on the taillights of the car in front of them. He had learned long ago that he needed a focal point that didn't involve that beautiful smile or those shining eyes. Focusing on either of those would truly lead to his demise. Every so often, he allowed himself to steal a quick glance at the goddess beside him. Everything about her was perfect. Though she was completely stunning in the dress, he knew she was just as beautiful in an old t-shirt and shorts. And that's what made his heart skip a beat every time he looked at her. He studied her features in the reflection of the window. Everything he never knew he wanted, never knew he needed was wrapped up in this one girl.
Tristan was unaware Rory had been watching him through the reflection of the glass. She hid a smile every time he cast his gaze upon her, thinking she couldn't see him give her the once over. Tristan's eyes wandered off the road again, this time catching her eye in the window. Rory couldn't help but smile, letting him know she was aware of his actions. He returned her smile, nonchalantly turning his eyes back to the road. Not ashamed that she knew he had been staring at her.
Rory positioned herself so that she was leaning against the door of the car, slightly facing him. She watched him for a few seconds, accepting her turn to take in his features. He really did look good tonight. The dark black of the suit set off his blond tresses of hair. His bow tie dangled from his neck, having loosened it upon getting in the car. She ran her eyes over his profile, noting the grin on his face. He too knew she was looking at him, and clearly, he was enjoying every second.
The car ride had been almost completely silent thus far. Not an awkward silence, but more the comfortable silence of two people who were satisfied just to be in the same vicinity with one another.
"Tristan?"
The sound of his name on her lips sent his heart racing. He loved the sound of her voice, but her voice saying his name was enough to make him weak. "Yeah," he replied, keeping his focus on his driving.
"Why me?", Rory asked curiously.
"Why you what?", he responded puzzled.
"Of all people, why did you ask me to go with you to your cousin's wedding?"
It was an honest question. One that she probably deserved the answer to. Though he doubted very mush she would like the answer just yet. In his typical fashion, he avoided making any sort of actual explanation.
"Oops. Did I tell you this was my cousin's wedding?", he countered, a devious smile crossing his lips. "Silly me. I meant to say this is our wedding. It would seem odd for me to bring someone else don't you think.
"Tristan," her voice was tinged with a little exasperation, some pleading, and he was certain, some amusement.
"Oh wait. I guess I didn't go about this properly. This is a little awkward since I can't get down on one knee while driving, but here goes. Rory Gilmore, will you"
"Stop Don't finish that sentence." Her forceful plea halting his joking proposition.
"Well, if you want to answer 'yes' before I get the chance to finish, then I guess that's your right. We seem to be breaking the rules anyway," he teased, casting her a sideways glance.
"I only want to hear those words once in my life, and I want the person to be serious when asking them. Marriage proposals are serious things."
Tristan was surprised at her conviction on this subject. And a little curious. In the back of his mind, a thought started creeping into his mind. He was imagining a day when he could be the one to ask her, in complete seriousness.
He shook his head as if trying to rid himself of that thought. He was only sixteen. Did this girl have that much power over him that he'd be thinking thoughts of marriage now. He knew that what he was feeling was stronger than any other way he thought about any girl. But, thoughts of proposals. That was just too much.
"Well if that's the way you want to be. I guess I'll just have to wait till you're ready to let me complete that question in its entirety." His trademark smirk hid the honesty of that statement.
Changing the subject, she reintroduced her question. "So why me?"
He avoided her question again. "Simple. Because I am completely and madly in love with you. I still wake up screaming your name, wanting to hold you every second of every day, to kiss you senseless"
"Tristan, you are so juvenile," she scolded, but there was no real malice in her voice.
His continued professions of undying love drowning out the sound of her rebuke..
***************************************************************
"It says to go North on Grant."
"I am going North."
"No you're not. You're going South," Rory countered.
Tristan's frustrations were beginning to show in his tightly clenched response. "I was heading East, made a left, and now we're going North."
Rory responded in kind. "We were heading East until you turned North on 22nd, and then West onto Oak. So when you made that last left, you pointed us in the Southern direction. Which is precisely the direction we are currently traveling." The sarcasm and inflection of her voice betrayed what little confidence she had in his driving ability.
The majority of the car ride up to this point had been spent in companionable silence. A few comments on the passing scenery mixed with sparse comments on the impending thunderstorm. For the most part, they resigned themselves to the pleasant camaraderie of the quit car. Until now. About 20 minutes ago, they crossed into the city limits, thus necessitating the use of directions. Tristan had quickly copied a set of directions from the wedding invitation, which he mistakenly left on the dresser in his bedroom. The chicken scratch that was his handwriting was barely legible to Rory's eyes. As she attempted to navigate their journey, the tension between them grew, peaking at their current predicament.
What little control he had over his irritation was fleeting quickly. "How can I be heading South when Grant is a one way heading North?"
"Well, if we were on Grant we'd be heading North. But we're not. We're on Gray."
Tristan rolled the car to a stop at the light. He craned his neck to read the letters on the perpendicular street sign, verifying what she had said. He uttered a mild swear word at the realization she was right.
"Now are you ready to listen to me?" Her tone of voice had lost the edge that carried her through this argument.
"I have been listening to you. That's how we ended up here." He motioned with a wide arc of his arm, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Exasperatedly, he sighed.
"Are you trying to blame this on me?" The frustration and indignation returned once again.
"You're the one holding the directions."
"Well if you could learn to write half as clearly as a second grader, perhaps I could actually read the directions."
Tristan hit the accelerator at the moment the light switched to green, lurching the car into motion. A few blocks later, he resigned himself to their situation. His voice lowered considerably from their previous rantings. "We're lost."
Rory shot him a sideways look. "Well at least we agree on that." She sat determined, arms crossed over her stomach in resentment. He could be so infuriating.
His mind started to race, thinking of a way to get them out of this mess. They were in a strange city, and even if they had the directions, they most likely still couldn't make it out with both of them alive. Their confrontation had driven them both to the edge. Rory's checks were red at her controlled anger. Tristan's frustration resulted in verbal lashings, placing the blame anywhere but himself. It wasn't the worst fight he'd ever had with a girl. But this one hurt worse. This time he had said those words to a person he truly cared about. And she had came back at him with her own words. He took a deep breath, determined to gain back the restraint over his emotions. He was finding that more and more difficult to do when it concerned her. She made him feel things he never felt before. Feel deeper than he ever thought he could.
"Hey, what street does it say the church is on?"
"Lafayette."
Tristan stifled a short laugh, the sound escaping in a hmph. "Well then that would be the church."
Rory's eyes followed the direction he was pointing. She noted the crowd of people gathered at the entrance. It was indeed a church. And a beautiful church at that. The tall columns of glass accentuated the dark stone walls of the ancient Cathedral. The vast wooden doors swung out from under the unique arched doorways. She couldn't help but to think that it reminded her of something she had seen in a painting. Perfect. Ideal. Fascinating.
Tristan turned the car into a crowded lot, seizing the first open space. He angled the car into the space, and put it in part. He turned the key in the ignition, casting a deafening silence over the interior. Moments of silence passed as they each sat unmoving in the car. The awkwardness of the moment did not go unnoticed as they both attempted to move past their spat. Neither wanted to apologize, frankly because there wasn't really anything to apologize for. They had let their emotions get the best of them, which happened so frequently when she was with him.
Tristan was the first to speak. "We took the scenic route."
Rory turned to face him. The usual smirk had replaced the tight expression on his face. His mild attempt at humor was so Tristan. When you can't beat em, make em laugh. She let out a short laugh, thankful of his ability to diffuse the tension between them. His words were intended to make her smile, but she knew deep down he was apologizing. Even though he couldn't say so in so many words. Somehow he could always make her forget that a few minutes ago, she was weighing the various methods to sink his body in the river.
"And what scene would that be? The tragic death sequence of Romeo and Juliet?" Her play on words revealing her assessment of the situation. They had been at each others throats.
Rory reached for the door handle. She opened the door wide, to accommodate the vast amounts of fabric in her skirt. She gathered her skirt in one hand, careful not to tear or stain it with the greased hinges on the door. By the time she had gained her composure to disembark from the car, Tristan had made his way around to her side of the car. He stretched out his hand to assist her. She took the offered hand, inwardly jumping at the electricity of his touch. Her hand in his she paused from her movement, her gaze immediately locking on his.
She couldn't identify the source of the butterflies in her stomach, but she recognized the loud beating of her heart as it quickened its pace. She searched his face for some recognition that he had been affected the same way. His expressionless face was betrayed in his eyes. She could see it there. The anger of a few minutes ago had been replaced with a warm, admiring look. As much as she didn't want to admit it, she knew he had a thing for her. His obvious overtures had a first been an annoyance, then an accepted part of her daily routine. But somewhere along the way, his intentions had changed. At first, she knew he was playing the game. She was simply the next on his list of conquests, preparing to check her off the list. She stood her ground, not caving to his attempts to gain her admiration like so many others had. She noticed a change in him. And somewhere deep down, she knew this wasn't a game. If it was, she wouldn't have kept his attention this long. He would have simply moved on to an easier target. But he hadn't. In the four months since she met him, he failed to turn his intentions elsewhere. Of course, there had been that brief stint with Summer. But even with her, he wasn't playing the game. What scared her the most was not the way he felt about her. Rather it was the way she felt about him. She was starting to have a thing for him too.
Realizing she had been staring into his eyes for some time, she quickly broke the gaze, removing herself from the car.
Tristan took her hand, placing it on the inner fold of his arm. He escorted her across the lot, weaving in and out of the expensive cars of the guests. The place where she held his arm felt like it was on fire. The heavy fabric of his tux coat could do little to dull the sensation that occurred because of her touch. She had looked into his eyes with such wonder, curiosity, and what he hoped was an inkling of infatuation. She was slowly letting down the wall that closed him off from her. The possibility that the wall would one day be broken down was enough to keep his eyes on the goal. They had yelled and fought on the way, but now she was smiling again. He wondered at the effect she had on him, and he had on her. They brought out such fire and emotion in one another. His heart ached with the potential of that passion when it was properly channeled. He smiled broadly, giving a slight shake of his head as he saw her reach for the strand around her neck, assuring herself it was still there.
He felt her hand tense on his arm and her steps slowing to a halt. He followed her gaze, looking across the street. His eyes glanced from the direction she was staring, to her face and back again. She was focused on the crowd across the street hovering outside the entrance to the Cathedral. She watched intently as couple after couple entered through the doors, yet the crowd did not thin. Inspecting them closely, she discovered why the crowd remained. They were photographers.
"Tristan?"
Oh how he loved the way she said his name. It sounded different when it came from her lips. Sweet. Manly. He almost didn't recognize it. He could buy a record just to listen to her say his name over and over. He quickly brought his wandering mind back to the conversation at hand.
"Who did you say was getting married?"
"My cousin." His reply was simple but not direct.
"And who exactly is your cousin?"
Tristan paused for a moment, deciding what little information to reveal. "Mike."
"Mike who?"
"Mike McCarty," he admitted reluctantly.
Her eyes shot to his face. "As in Governor McCarty's son?"
"The very same." His replies were short, and Rory couldn't help but think that he had intentionally withheld information from her.
"You mean to tell me Governor McCarty is your uncle?"
"No. But he is married to my aunt," he replied evasively.
Rory's exasperation etched its way onto her face. "Did it ever occur to you to tell me that the wedding we were attending was THE wedding event of the year for the East Coast."
Tristan looked at her inquisitively. His ignorance was genuine. "It is?"
"Tristan!. There have been articles after articles about this wedding in the Hartford paper. 'Son of Governor marries high school sweetheart who just so happens to be the heiress to the largest corporation in the East. These people are practically royalty around here."
Tristan shrugged his shoulders, displaying his indifference to this fact. "Would it have made a difference?"
She pondered the question for a moment, sorting through its implications. She let out a sigh as she formed her answer. "Probably not. My objections to tonight's event stemmed from the company I would be keeping. And regardless of who was getting married, I would still be stuck with you as an escort."
Tristan was slightly taken aback by her statement. His insecurities wavered when he saw the hint of amusement in her eyes. They vanished completely when the smile reached her mouth. She was toying with him again.
"Well, fortunately for you, I am not the worst person you could be spending your evening with. I'm sure there are lots of psychopaths willing to take you to a wedding, throw your dismembered body in the back of the car, and drive away into the night."
"Ooh. You mean Norman Bates was free tonight?", she mocked.
He cast her a sideways glance, gently pulling her forward and led her to the church.
******************************8
The wedding was a beautiful display of elegance and prestige. Money may not buy everything, but it sure can provide an elaborate event. Many times throughout the ceremony, Rory let mind wander to what her wedding would be like. Unlike most girls, she hadn't spent her childhood planning out her dream wedding to the perfect boy. No, she put her time and effort into concentrating on school and whatever else it would take to get her to Harvard. She always assumed that when the timing was right, her knight in shining armor would appear, sweep her off of her feet, and they would live happily ever after. But tonight, she let herself explore a world where she was the blushing bride, walking down the aisle to meet her prince. She didn't want to think about the fact that in her mental image, Mr. Perfect was always played by Tristan. She rationalized her thoughts, attempting to convince herself it was because he was sitting next to her when she had these thoughts. Surely if she had been anywhere else, she could have easily placed a number of different guys into that position. She caught herself staring down at her left hand, dressing it in her mind with a variety of styles of engagement rings. She couldn't help but smile when she realized what she was doing. In all her effort to be less girlie, she hadn't succeeded. She was just like the rest of them. She was indeed a sap.
Tristan held the door to the reception hall, following Rory into the room. He had never been a fan of weddings. But somehow, Rory made them bearable. Well, she did more than make them bearable. The wedding tonight was, dare he say, entertaining. He couldn't keep from staring at her during the ceremony. Her facial expressions mimicked her emotions. Even though she didn't know the bride or the groom, she was caught up in the moment. He never quite understood a girl's obsession with weddings. The entire scene was nearly perfect. The old style church was the picturesque setting for the lavish wedding. The aisles were filled with fresh flowers, the aroma tickling his nose. The darkened sky was lit only by the candles along the walls. It was very cozy.
He drew a few censuring looks during the ceremony, when a laugh escaped. Rory had whispered her take on the bridesmaids and their escorts, verbalizing their thoughts as they traipsed down the aisle.
They weaved through the mass of tables in search of their name cards. Tristan finally located them at a table near the back wall. "Mr. Tristan DuGrey and Guest." They were seated at a table with his parents and a few members of his extended family. They were the first of their group to arrive. Tristan anxiously looked around the room, searching for his parents. He spotted his mother first, her haughty swagger displaying her amazing self-assurance. His eyes moved to the figure directly behind her. She had his father in tow. His father's expression epitomized every man's thoughts of attending the obligatory wedding.
"Brace yourself." The warning was uttered in a low voice. Tristan mentally readied himself, wincing at the inevitable meeting between Rory and his parents.
"Mom, Dad. I'd like you to meet Rory Gilmore."
Rory took a step forward, returning the handshakes of the couple. "It's a pleasure to meet you."
She was greeted with a caustic smile, first by finished woman, and then by her husband. Rory's first thought was that perhaps Tristan had over exaggerated his parents' demeanors. They seemed pleasant enough at first. That changed the moment Mrs. DuGrey began to speak.
"Gilmore? Are you the granddaughter of Richard and Emily Gilmore?" She paused to acknowledge Rory's affirmative answer. "So you're the reason the infamous Lorelai Gilmore had to quit school. Such a shame. She was a very bright student. She was planning on attending Yale, wasn't it? I guess that didn't matter. If your parents had learned to keep their hands to themselves things could have worked out very differently.
"Mother." Tristan's bold tone of voice with his mother did little to sway her attitude.
The word uncomfortable didn't even begin to describe the way Rory felt. She watched as Tristan's parents looked her over from head to toe, disapproving of what they saw.
"With all due respect, I find it difficult to consider my parents' actions a mistake. If they had done things differently, I wouldn't be here today." Rory's attempt to defend herself was falling flat.
"And what a pity that would be." Her next disparaging remark was directed at her son. "Really, Tristan. I give you too much credit. I thought you had better taste than that."
Rory felt as though she had just been slapped. The words stung worse than if she had. Her entire life, she had been reminded of the consequences she brought to her mother's life. She had come to terms with her insecurity years ago. However, the verbal assault coming from this stranger sparked some of those fears. Before she could make a response, the DuGreys had left to socialize with other members of the elite class.
Tristan's eyes burned with anger at his mother. He was useless. Defending Rory to his parents would get him no where. He barely contained his anger as Rory overheard a few choice words linked to his mother's name.
He turned to Rory in an attempt to cover for his mother's behavior. "I am so sorry for that. I don't know what gets into her. Obviously grace and manners were not for sale at her charm school."
Rory could see the anger in his eyes, though it wasn't directed at her. When she remained silent, he continued.
"I for one am glad your parents got their groove on when they did. I would be in quite the predicament now if they hadn't." The anger in his eyes was fading, as the adoring look reserved just for her returned.
Rory cast him a quizzical look. "What does that mean?"
"Well imagine if your parents had waited a few years to have kids. I would definitely have some explaining to do when they caught me chasing after the 10 year old Rory Gilmore."
His humor was infections. The mental picture of 16 year old Tristan holding hands with 10 year old Rory was enough to bring a smile to her face. She didn't know how he did it. At a time when she felt lower than she had in months, he had her smiling.
"You obviously don't know the 10 year old Rory. Let me assure you, she wasn't turning any heads."
Tristan pulled out a chair, helping her to take her seat. He leaned in close, his lips within inches of her ear. The warmth of his breath on her neck sent shivers down her spine.
"She only needed to turn one. And let me assure you, I have excellent psychic skills. Foreseeing the beauty you would be today, I would have chased you around in circles even if you looked like Abraham Lincoln."
Her heart fluttered at his words. She felt the blood in her body rushing to her cheeks, leaving her extremities tingling. If she had not been seated, the huskiness of his voice would have surely weakened her knees. She watched him pull out a chair and nonchalantly take his seat.
***********************
The dinner that evening was a spectacular array of the finest foods spread over a seven course meal. The entrees consisted of expensive delicacies as well as trademark foods of the East Coast. Yet even with the mounds of food before them, Rory couldn't help but think that the DuGreys were having Tristan for dinner. She sat in silence as time after time his parents remarked on all his faults. They discussed with the other family members how each of their sons had excelled at soccer. But not Tristan. He chose the less flashy, less prestigious sport of swimming. Rory wanted to point out that he had set the fastest times ever by a sophomore in 3 events. But she knew her words would fall on deaf ears. She also didn't want to face his questioning look when he learned that she had been following his sport. She bit her lip as his parents went on and on about how each of his brothers had either been valedictorian or salutatorian of their respective classes. But not Tristan. She wanted to bring light to the fact that Tristan was a top 10 student, at Chilton. And Chilton was one of the most challenging schools in the state. He was hardly a failure.
Rory could see the muscles in his jaw tense at each degrading comment. She saw the blank expression of his face, trying to convey indifference to the subject. At school, he was perhaps the most popular student walking the halls. Every guy wanted to be him. Every girl wanted to be with him. But that wasn't good enough for the DuGreys. He had to be perfect. Rory knew their comments hurt. Regardless of how idolized he was by his peers, that couldn't take away the fact that his parents considered him a disappointment.
Rory reached out her hand, placing it on top of his. She gave a slight, comforting squeeze. His eyes met hers in silent gratitude and unspoken understanding.
"Would you excuse us please, we haven't given our wishes to the bride and groom." Rory realized how ridiculous her words sounded. She placed her napkin on the table, and rose from her chair. Tristan followed her lead and within seconds was by her side.
"Well thank you for introducing me to the anti Ward and June Cleaver."
"Oh the fun has just begun. In a few minutes one of them will threaten to divorce the other, and a battle over assets will ensue."
He followed her winding path through the mass of tables, unsure of their destination. She finally slowed to a halt next to a lighted tree along the wall. Tristan took his place to her side, facing the hundreds of people in the room.
"So, do we have a plan here?'
Rory turned her head slightly, gazing at his profile. "Not really. I just had to get away from the negativity of that table. Your parents sure know how to dampen the mood."
"I'm really sorry about all this." He apologized another time. "I really thought my parents would be on their best behavior tonight, but I see that that just isn't going to happen."
"Actually you're scoring bonus points." She waited for his questioning look. "Compared to your parents, your taunting should be considered flattery."
They were so caught up in their conversation, neither of them noticed the younger man approach. He walked into their eyesight, immediately vying for Rory's attention.
"Excuse me, miss. Could I have this dance?"
Rory found herself staring into the eyes of a very attractive young man. He was dressed in the standard black tuxedo, offsetting his dark hair. He appeared to be in his twenties, slightly older than the guys she was used to talking to. For a moment, she couldn't speak. Her eyes flew to Tristan's, pleading for an answer. He was watching their exchange with mild amusement, and what she assumed was a tinge of jealously. He nodded his head slightly, encouraging her to accept the offer. She returned her gaze to the mysterious man, and nodded her head yes. He took her hand, and led her onto the dance floor.
Tristan turned to face the dance floor, making sure he had an unobstructed view of the two. He leaned against the wall, shoving his hands into his pockets. His mind raced back to an occasion much like this. He was against the wall, watching her dance, seeing her kiss someone other than himself. Only this time, she had come with him. That other night had been a complete disaster. He had embarrassed himself in front of the entire school, acting and looking like a lovesick puppy. But one good thing came of that night. He had come to terms with the fact that she was more than just a game. He accepted the fact that he ...
He stopped himself in mid-thought, shaking his head. He what? Liked her? Longed for her? Needed her? Loved her? He wasn't quite sure what the feeling was, though he was certain it was not going away.
He remained against the wall, watching them dance. Rory's hands rested lightly on his shoulder, as his were around her waist. A small distance separated the two, allowing them to look at each other. She was laughing at something he said. A pang of jealously soared through Tristan's body. He was the one supposed to be making her laugh. Tristan continued his torture, watching her gracefully move in the stranger's arms.
One thought kept returning to his mind. Here she was, so far out of her league, and yet, she fit right in. His parents may be foolish enough to judge her based on her parents' actions, but everyone else knew better. She was beautiful, intelligent, and possessed a grace that surpassed most everyone in the room. And she had his heart.
Rory gazed above the shoulder of her dance partner, her eyes landing on Tristan's frame. He was leaning against the wall, as if he had no care's in the world. And he was watching her. Her eyes held his gaze as that tingling feeling returned. When did he start to have this effect on her? They held their gaze for a few minutes more, sharing a silent moment. She tried to read the emotions in his eyes, but his experience at keeping them hidden prevailed. Without warning, she looked away, focusing on another target. She would have stared into those eyes all night, but she knew she was not as talented when it came to hiding her emotions. And she just wasn't ready to let him see those emotions until she had figured out for herself what they meant. A few more seconds of staring into his eyes and she was certain her legs would give out beneath her. Regaining a sense of composure, she turned again to her dance partner, once again engaging in meaningless chatter.
***********
Tristan rose from his seat and pulled out Rory's chair. She had been quite busy tonight, just now returning from her fifth dance. She graciously accepted each offer, always limiting the encounter to just one dance. Tristan himself had danced a few dances, but he was finding it more and more difficult to keep his eyes off her. They had yet to share a dance, and with the night fading away, he was beginning to lose hope that they would.
Instead of taking her seat, Rory stood beside her chair, analyzing a small piece of paper in her hand. She looked up to meet Tristan's gaze, a smile gracing her face.
"What's that?" He had watched her make imaginary marks on the slip of paper.
"My dance card." She looked from his face, to the paper. "And it appears as though you still owe me a dance. Yep, right here." She pointed to the paper. "Last dance. Tristan DuGrey."
He met her glance with his trademark smirk.
"You don't want to keep a lady waiting."
He matched the twinkle in her eyes with one in his own. "Well if it's on paper than I guess I'm forced to comply." He held out his hand, desperately attempting to hide his reaction to her touch. He slowly led her to the floor, praying that the DJ would cue up a slow tune.
The music began, and she took her place in his arms. She wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers brushing up against his tousled hair. The distance between them was considerably smaller than the distance she held with her other suitors that night. She felt his arms around her waist, his hands resting on the small of her back.
Tristan was oblivious to the music when it began. He was so taken into the feeling of her in his arms. The scent of her hair taunting his senses. Slowly the words of the song floated into his thoughts. He felt his body stiffen slightly, and hoped she didn't realize the reason for his tensing.
The angelic voice of Faith Hill echoed through the room and his thoughts.
If I'm not in love with you
What is this I'm going through, tonight
And if this heart is lying then
What should I believe in
Why do I go crazy
Every time I think about you baby
Why else do I want you like I do
If I'm not in love with you
Rory didn't have the strength to resist as she felt herself drawn against his body. She couldn't bring herself to look into his eyes, afraid of what she would see there. She tried not to hear the words of the song as she felt the warmth of his breath graze her ear.
And if I don't need your touch
Why do I miss you so much, tonight
If it's just infatuation then
Why is my heart achin'
To hold you forever
Give a part of me I thought I'd never
Give again to someone I could lose
If I'm not in love with you.
Tristan could feel her relax in his embrace. Everything about this moment was perfect. He couldn't help but notice how well their bodies fit together. They weren't 2 people dancing on the dance floor. They were one.
Oh why in every fantasy
Do I feel your arms embracing me
Like lovers lost in sweet desire
And why in dreams do I surrender
Like a little baby
How do I explain this feeling
Someone tell me
Rory attempted to contain her rapid beating. She was certain Tristan could hear the loud beating of her heart, as she felt it bang against her chest. She mustered the courage to look into his eyes. Their eyes locked, searching each other, searching their own hearts. Neither noticed when their movements stopped, standing completely still, staring into each others eyes.
If I'm not in love with you
What is this I'm going through, tonight
And if this heart is lying then
What should I believe in
Why do I go crazy
Every time I think about you baby
Why else do I want you like I do
If I'm not in love with you.
The music gradually faded, the two still locked in their physical and mental embrace. Tristan's eyes searched hers, looking for a sign that she felt the same. His gaze shifted to her mouth, and when it returned to her eyes, she was staring at his lips. They locked eyes once again as he slowly leaned in, allowing her plenty of time to turn away.
Rory jumped back as a flash snapped within a few feet of them. Startled, she turned to see a camera man, taking pictures of various couples throughout the room. Tristan's head snapped in the same direction, stunned at break in the moment.
The moment having been broken, they looked at each other in awkward silence, and proceeded to exit the floor.
The car ride was one big moment of awkward silence. Tristan mentally cursed himself for tonight's actions. He also cursed the photographer for ruining what could have been the greatest moment of the night.
Rory's confused state of mind did little to calm her nerves. She replayed the events of this evening in her head, searching for a different reason than the one she kept returning to. She had almost let Tristan kiss her again. No, she almost begged him to kiss her again. The emptiness she felt when they were interrupted was overwhelming. And she wanted a different explanation than the one she knew was the cause. She was falling for him. Serious, head over heels, falling for him.
Rory glanced at the clock on the dash. It was late. She knew her grandparents had wanted her home at a reasonable hour, but that was an impossible feat given the length of the reception and the driving distance home. Her thoughts were interrupted as the car lurched, causing Tristan to pull off to the side of the road.
In the pitch black, Tristan could barely see what was going on outside.
"What's wrong?" The first words she spoke were spoken out of nerves.
"Um.. I don't know. It just died on me." He looked at the instrumentation panel, noting that the lamp indicating the engine temperature was lit. He swung open the door, pulling the little lever to release the hood.
Stepping out of the car, he immediately saw the steam billowing from the engine. He cursed to himself. He'd seen this before, though it had never happened to him. He knew what this was about. He walked around the front of the car, motioning for Rory to roll down her window.
"It overheated," he said dryly.
"What's that mean?"
"It means that we have to find another way home."
"It's 2 in the morning!"
"That doesn't change the fact that the car is broken down, does it." His sarcastic voice did little to ease his own worry.
***********************
20 minutes and a dozen phone calls later, he found himself fighting the lock on the motel door. His parents either had turned off their cell phones, or they were simply ignoring his calls. Whichever, they were unable to reach them. They had only been on the road approximately 25 minutes, which meant that they were still an hour and a half from Hartford. They discussed their options, settling on the least horrifying. He had suggested they call her grandparents, but Rory didn't trust them to be out this late driving. Instead he overheard her arguing with them as he checked them into the hotel. He only caught the gist of what she was saying, overhearing phrases like "ridiculous", "we'll be fine", and "I'm not telling you where we are." He was sure they were going to hate him.
He finally worked the key in the lock, swinging the door inward. He gathered the items they removed from his abandoned car, and followed her into the room. Her finger flipped the switch, and he practically ran into her when she came to a dead halt.
"You have got to be kidding me."
Tristan's eyes searched the room, taking in the less than appealing interior of the shaggy hotel room. His eyes landed on the object of her disproval.
His voice was dry, the tired strains evident. "There's only one bed." He was stating the obvious.
"Un Uh. No way Tristan." She was shaking her head, protesting their opted solution.
"Please, Rory, can we not do this?" He was holding his hand up, and exhausted attempt to waive off her protests. He ignored her incredulous look as he handed her the shorts and t-shirt he had managed to grab from his car.
"Tristan!?" Her tone indicated she wanted more than a waving of his hand.
Unwillingly, he gave into his emotions. His voice echoed with the exasperation and frustration that he experienced all night. "O.K. Rory, you got me. I planned this whole thing out just so I could get you in here and jump you. Forget romance and candlelight, I arranged to have my car break down in the middle of the night, in the middle of nowhere, so that I could bring you to this flea-bag hotel and have my way with you. Yeah, this is exactly how I imagined our first night to be. You and me in a dirty hotel room." His words trailed off. His anger was directed not at her, but at himself.
Rory tensed as his tirade wore on. She knew that this was the only room available. And she knew how upsetting the night had been for him. She was stunned as he inadvertently confessed that he had thought about the two of them together. She tried not to dwell on that idea, because truthfully, that was her fear. She wasn't afraid of what he would do to her, she was afraid of what she would do.
Her mind raced for a way to soothe his temper. "I'm sorry," she whispered softly. "I didn't mean it like that."
Tristan's back was to her as he threw his coat across one of the chairs. "I'll sleep on the floor."
"Don't be ridiculous." Though his offer was gallant, she wasn't about to let him sleep on the filthy floor. "You have no idea what could have been on this floor. The bed is big enough for the both of us." She took the clothes he had given her and headed to the bathroom.
Tristan heard the clicking of the bathroom door, releasing a pent up sigh. What was wrong with him. She had this uncanny ability to make himself lose control. He stripped himself out of the bowtie and shirt, casting them on top of the chair. Luckily, he had had a set of clothes in his car so that she wouldn't have to sleep in the dress. He, however, was forced by lack of options to sleep in his tux pants. Probably not the most comfortable night of his life. But he knew he would be getting little sleep knowing that her body was so close to his.
Rory returned from the bathroom, fully clothed in Tristan's oversized T and shorts. She hung her dress over the luggage rack in the closet, and adjusted the drawstring of her shorts She made her way back to the room, suddenly stopping cold. She inhaled sharply as she was greeted with the site of his bare back. His back was to her, and he was holding the phone to his ear. Her eyes moved over the length of him, gaping at the well defined muscles in his shoulders, tapering to his waist. His free hand massaged the muscles at the base of his neck, relieving some of the tension from the night. Before he could see her, she walked to the nearest side of the bed, shoving down the covers, and climbed in.
Tristan hung up the phone, turning around to the bed. He hadn't heard her come in, and saw her now, nestled under the many layers of blankets. He stifled an exasperated sigh, as he noted how she hovered at the edge of the bed, in fear of the person she would be sharing the bed with. He crossed the room, flicking off the lights. He shoved the covers back from his half of the bed, falling into bed with an exhausted motion. He turned his head and could see her outline, a few inches from him. He lay on his back, covering his face with his hands. His quiet whisper was a pleading question. "Why me?"
End Part 2