Author's Note: I've upgraded the rating to PG 13 due to language and sexual scenarios. I hope you weren't expecting much with this part seeing as you've been waiting forever. I'm still struggling with where to take it and have started adapting other parts of fics to fit this story. So this is what I like to call filler.
Author's Whine: This is the part where I get a bit melodramatic. It's very discouraging to come to this board and see that my fics barely muster up 7 reviews while most others get 20 per part. I'm not quite sure why this is. Maybe you hate them entirely, or perhaps you've seen them elsewhere and aren't reading or reviewing them here. Even if you hate it, let me know. But please offer some constructive criticism if you do. I'm getting really tired of writing as is evidenced by how long it took me to get this part out and a little feedback should help keep me going just to finish out this story. And yes, I am 5 years old. Some of this story is a bit angsty as I was in a bad mood while I wrote most of it. And it's not the end, so keep your head up. Now that I've sufficiently griped, here ya go.
Part 5
Rory mindlessly flipped through the pages of her history book, seeing the words but not registering their meanings. She'd been trying to study for the last few hours, but nothing seemed to be sinking in. The words on the pages jumbled together causing a mess of information to brand itself on her brain. With finals approaching, she knew she should be putting more effort into this than she could muster. But somehow, today, she just didn't have the strength. She traced her finger along a sentence, watching the black type disappear and then reappear on the other side of her finger. She reversed her motion, seeing that indeed, the same happened when she went the other way. With an exaggerated sigh, she slammed her book shut and threw it next to her on the couch.
Leaning forward, she placed her head in her hands, her hair cascading over her arms and enclosing her face. She rested her elbows on her knees, her palms supporting her sagging head by the temples. Just for a second, she let her mind wander back to the events of the day, a day that in many respects she would like to forget entirely. She cringed when she remembered how it ended, still stinging from her decision. She felt her cheeks begin to moisten with tears that were so common tonight, as her fingers brushed lightly over her lips.
She heard the doorknob rattle and knew her mother must be home. Quickly swiping the tears with one hand, she reached for her history book with the other, opening to a random page in the middle. She situated herself on the end of the couch, leaning back against the armrest for support. Fastening her fingers around her yellow highlighter, she bit the end of it, trying gallantly to exude an air of studying. She shook her head lightly letting her hair form a curtain around her tear stained face.
She heard her mother enter the room, dropping her briefcase and keys by the door. She was somewhat surprised to hear her whistling. Her mother never whistled. She figured she must be in a good mood from her date with Max, and tried to hide her envy at her mother's joy.
Lorelai practically skipped through the entryway, her whistling echoing through the room. She listened for a second to the ticking of the clock, synchronizing her tune to it's rhythm. She walked around the end of the couch, placing herself directly behind her studious daughter. Without stopping her whistling, she gently reached up, placing a solitary finger under the collar of Rory's shirt and pulling it away from her neck. Rory squirmed, flicking her hand over her shoulder to brush Lorelai's away. She paused mid tune, then immediately resumed her happy song. Not to be turned away, she waited another second, and again tugged at the collar of her daughter's shirt.
"What are you doing?", Rory practically growled as she again swatted Lorelai's hand away.
"Well someone's in a cheery mood tonight." She continued to scrutinize Rory's neck.
Rory continued to swat away her hands, picking herself up off of the couch and moving to the opposite end. "What's your problem?"
Lorelai was slightly taken aback by her daughter's tone. Shrugging it off to pre-finals jitters, she tried to maintain her humorous self. "I was simply looking for love bites." She flopped on the edge of the sofa recently vacated by Rory.
"Well you're not going to find any." Rory tried to appear immersed in her history book.
"From what I hear about that kiss today, I should be thanking my lucky stars I'm not a grandmother already."
Rory remained riveted to her lessons..
"So....," Lorelai began, waiting for her to continue. After a few seconds of silence, she realized she was going to have to drag it out of her. "What's it like to be dating Mr. Popularity? Mr. Suave? Mr. I can walk into a room and all girls fall at my feet."
Rory brushed her hair off of her forehead. "I'm not dating Tristan." She tried to hide the hurt in her voice, concealing it with disdain for her mother's topic of conversation.
Lorelai shifted on the couch, stretching her legs in front of her. She used her feet to slightly nudge Rory's side, watching as she tried to ignore her pestering. "O.K., so I know you haven't actually gone on a date yet. So what's it called now? Going out? Going steady? Mutual infatuation?"
"None of the above." Her frustration was getting the best of her. She usually avoided this tone with her mother, but somehow today, she didn't have the strength to conceal her irritability.
"Tristan and I are nothing but friends, as I've told you before. And now I'm not even sure we're that." The last part was mumbled slightly under her breath.
Lorelai crossed her arms over her stomach and leaned back against the armrest. "If you two are not an item, do you mind telling me why that boy left here with half my daughter's saliva?"
Rory groaned and dropped her book on the couch. She pushed herself up from her seated position, and crossed the entry way to the kitchen. She grabbed her favorite mug from the cabinet and approached the steaming coffee pot. The coffee had been on most of the afternoon, and she poured the little that had not evaporated into her mug. With her back to the living room, she didn't see her mother enter the room with a perplexed look on her face.
Lorelai tried to interject a bit of levity into the ever growing tenseness of the conversation. "Please tell me you're not prostituting yourself out for a bit of cash on the side. I know you'd do anything for me not to have to spend every Friday night at my parents, but I will not let you sell yourself to some rich Chilton kid. Though I would have to commend your creativity in part-time employment."
Seeing that her humor was falling on deaf ears, she reverted back to her interrogation. "So what is it with you two?"
"God, Mom. Would you just drop it?" She pushed herself off the counter, heading in a straight path for her bedroom. She was stopped in her tracks when her mother reached out and grabbed hold of her arm. Still with her back to her mother, she felt Lorelai's grip holding fast.
"What the hell is your problem?" She pulled on Rory's arm in an attempt to get her to face her.
Rory sighed and turned towards her. She tucked the strands of her hair behind her ears, and raised her head to look her mother directly in the eyes.
For the first time, Lorelai had an unobstructed view of Rory's face. She was not prepared for what she saw. Her eyes were red and poofy and her cheeks were still damp from the hours of crying. Lorelai took a step backward, releasing her hold on Rory's arm.
Lorelai raised her hand laying it gently on Rory's cheek. "You've been crying," she whispered softly.
"No shit Sherlock." Her voice was mixed with a little defiance, and a lot of hurt.
In the back of her mind, she couldn't believe she was saying that out loud. She never cursed, especially around her mother. And that statement made it twice today. She wasn't certain what had gotten into her, and she felt a twinge of guilt to take it back.
But she was fed up.
She was tired of playing the role of the good little girl. The perfect daughter, who made the perfect grades, and was always courteous to everyone around her. No one ever expected her to act like a normal teenager. For once in her life, she wanted to scrap it all and start over.
The two Gilmores stood for a second staring at each other over the few meters that separated them. Though symbolically, the distance seemed like miles.
Still not breaking their eye contact, Lorelai was the first to speak. "O.K., who are you and what have you done with my daughter?"
Rory's shoulders sagged a bit and her next statement was a bit softer. "I'm still your daughter, I've just had a really bad day."
"Well that's good, cause if this was a really good day, I'd say we need to work a bit on your enthusiasm."
Rory turned and headed into her bedroom.
"I take it you're not in the mood to talk about it?" Lorelai slouched against the doorframe as Rory walked around her room getting things ready for bed.
"Not particularly."
"Do you have any idea when you'll be ready to talk about it?"
Rory paused in turning the covers down on her bed. "Never works for me."
"What is it with this kid that has turned my normally chatty daughter into a barely audible creature who manages to grunt out one or two words at the most?" She switched off the light as Rory pulled herself into bed. She turned and pulled the door shut behind her.
"Hey Mom."
She turned and cracked the door enough to peek her head into the room.
"I love you," Rory quietly stated.
Rory couldn't see the slight smile on her face as she silently breathed a sigh of relief. "I love you too, honey," she returned, quietly pulling the door closed.
The next few days were a blur as Rory went about her normal school routine. Finals were a few short days away and she tried feverishly to keep her mind on studying. That proved to be a more difficult task than expected as much of her effort was devoted to avoiding Tristan.
Which shouldn't have been a difficult feat considering the perfection with which he was performing the very same task.
In the few classes they shared together, he managed to sit as far from her as possible, not once casting a glance in her direction. He made an art out of arriving to class seconds before the bell rang, and knew precisely when to dart from his chair at the end of class.
Their avoidance dance didn't go unnoticed by the biggest gossips in the Chilton circle. And one in particular couldn't help but stick her nose in.
"Are we having a bit of a lover's spat?" Paris approached, opening her own locker.
Rory continued exchanging books in her locker, hoping that the voice would just go away.
When Rory didn't respond, Paris turned to face her "Do you hear me talking or has your blinding love taken over your hearing as well?"
"I hear you Paris. And what you're saying sounds like English, but I'm too tired to translate the hostility you're interjecting." She continued the monotonous task of putting her books into her bag.
"Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning." Paris turned to face her own locker and copied Rory's movements. "So tell me. Exactly which side of the bed does Tristan sleep on?"
Rory turned her head slightly, glaring at Paris' profile. "For someone so smart you really can be dense. There is nothing going on between Tristan and I."
Paris gave her a doubting look. "Don't play dumb. It doesn't suit you."
Rory returned the stare. "Don't act like you care. It doesn't suit you."
Paris shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. "I don't care. If you want to parade yourself around here as Tristan's latest conquest, be my guest. Who am I to stop true love?" She emphasized the last two words with disgust.
Rory looked at her indignantly. "Do you even hear yourself?"
"I hear the echo, but I'm too busy translating your lies to listen ."
Shutting her locker with a bit of force, Rory slung her bookbag over her shoulder and turned to fully face her adversary. "I'm surprised you of all people wouldn't remember the first rule of journalism. A statement isn't fact until it is supported by two sources. So just go on believing whatever you want to believe. It just proves how daft you really are."
Paris shut her locker, squaring her shoulders to face her. With a haughty tilt of her head, she proved her point. "I'll do you one better. I have three. One: the kiss at Madeline's party." She paused to let the shock register. "I know you think I don't know about that, but you're forgetting the first rule of adolescence. Nothing is ever a secret when more than one party is involved. Two: the picture of the two of you from the wedding. You can deny it all you want, but a picture is worth a thousand words. And three: you spent the night together in a hotel. Information which you so graciously provided to the entire school. 3 strikes, Gilmore's out. Thanks for playing."
Paris was the first to walk away, leaving a speechless Rory standing in the hallway. It was so unlike her not to be prepared for anything Paris could say. She crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her head to stare at the floor. She tried to process the gravity of what just happened. If Paris knew about the kiss at the party, she was certain the rumors were circulating at record speed.
She took a deep breath, and started down the hall.
She took a few steps, realizing that staring at the floor was a certain way to run into something. She raised her gaze to the emptying hall in front of her, her eyes landing on a solitary form a few yards in front of her. She stopped suddenly in her tracks, staring at the tall boy as he shut his locker and turned toward her.
He took a few steps, his gaze focused on the books in his hand. She stood frozen in her tracks, her feet seemingly weighted to the floor. He continued on his path, finally raising his eyes. Immediately they registered two stunning blue eyes as his feet halted his progress.
Tristan took a couple of steps backward, widening the distance between them. His eyes never left hers as he willed himself to look away.
She shifted on her weight on her feet, unsure of what to do. Her eyes bore into his, gauging his reaction at that moment. She was somewhat disappointed that she couldn't ascertain his mood. He long ago perfected the ability to hide his emotions, and the barrier was stronger now than ever.
He watched her falter and her nervousness take over. She opened her mouth to speak, and immediately closed it. Her actions drew his eyes to her mouth, and his stomach twisted with regret. She repeated the action again, trying to find the words to say. Before she had the chance, he turned on his heel and walked away.
She watched his retreating form, a little upset at the abruptness of his actions. She had thought about the first post-kiss interaction, but had never considered the awkwardness of the moment to result in this. She knew better than to expect him to return to his usual smirking self, but turning his back on her was not a scenario she had in mind.
Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, she continued down the hall, thankful that another day at Chilton was gone.
Tristan wandered through the store, occasionally stopping to flip through the CDs. He picked one out and slipped on the headphones to get a feel for the taste of the music. He listened for a couple of minutes, skimming the first few seconds of each song. He slid the headphones off and hung them over the bracket along the wall. Careful to put it back in the exact alphabetical order, he didn't notice the girl standing behind him.
"You just don't get it do you?"
He whirled around, startled at the voice a few feet from him. "Excuse me?"
"Do you have any idea what you've gotten yourself into?" she firmly questioned.
Tristan cocked his head slightly in puzzlement. "Do I know you?"
The girl's confidence wavered slightly as she momentarily broke eye contact. He could not see the nails digging into the palm of her hand to give her strength for this conversation. Nor did he notice her follow him into the store and hover behind him a few steps, mentally preparing herself to approach him.
"No, but you should make a point to get to know me." She was discouraged to hear the shaking in her voice, certain that her nerves would take away from point of this conversation. This was something she never dreamed she would gain the audacity to do. Yet here she stood. Facing this boy of mysteries. This boy who was undoubtedly the most attractive creature she had ever laid eyes on. This boy who held such a grasp over Rory's emotions. And she was willing to bet he was as oblivious to that power as she had been to his feelings.
Tristan's confusion persisted. He looked at the strange girl in front of him, trying to place her among the snooty kids of his parents' friends. But that didn't fit. She didn't appear haughty, and in fact, seemed a little out of her league. He noticed her timidity, not at all characteristic of someone accustomed to accosting him at the mall. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
She waited for him to respond, and when he did nothing but look over her cooly, she debated fleeing from the store before he found out who she was. His very presence was making her a nervous wreck. But if things worked the way she assumed they eventually would, she had a feeling she would be seeing him regularly over the course of her friendship with Rory. And there was no better time to get over her shyness than now.
"Lane Kim. Best friend to the object of your infatuation." Her voice again betrayed what little confidence remained. She watched his reaction for some sign of acknowledgement, and barely caught the low, whispered utterance.
"Rory," he sighed to himself. That's who she reminded him of. The word was spoken in no more than a whisper, and to the passerby, it was likely unintelligible. But to the two of them, there was no denying what he had said. He watched the girl in front of him with curiosity, and then turned back to the row of CD's.
"I didn't realize Miss Ice Queen had a messenger service." His arrogance returned in an attempt to mask his true feelings. "So, what? Did she send you to tell me that she never wants to see me again? Because she seems to be doing a pretty good job of that herself. Or did she send you to inform me of what a jerk I am and why I should be lucky to ever have been in her presence?"
Lane was taken aback by his harsh tone. She remembered the Tristan Rory used to complain about and had a good idea she was getting a glimpse of him now. But he didn't even compare with the Tristan Rory had fallen for. She reminded herself that the sweet Tristan was hiding in there somewhere. Though it was difficult to believe at the moment.
"She didn't send me. She doesn't even know I'm here." She stared at his back, expecting for him to turn around. When he didn't, she realized what she was about to do was probably best done to his back anyway.
"Oh, so the good Samaritan in you has taken it upon herself to defend her best friend to the big bad bully?" He glanced over his shoulder at her, and then back to the CD's.
Lane glared at his back. "You don't deserve her."
Tristan stiffened at the statement, knowing fully that she was right. He closed his eyes as her words stung. Choosing to drop the act, he uttered his first cordial words. "I know."
Lane could hear his voice soften and his shoulders slouch, resigning himself to the truth.
"She's not used to your way of life. She doesn't hop from boyfriend to boyfriend and she can't run with the popular crowd." She watched his back. "She's different. And you're moving too fast."
He slowly turned around. "She'd prefer if I didn't move at all." He brushed by her to another rack of discs.
"That's not true."
He again glanced over his shoulder at her. "Please," he mocked. "Rory Gilmore would like nothing more than for me to just disappear."
She pondered whether or not she should continue. If Rory knew what she was doing, she would string her up and plot a fate worse than death. But ultimately, this was for her own good. "She likes you."
Tristan scoffed. "She has a funny way of showing it."
"She does. She told me."
Tristan turned around. "She actually said that she likes me?"
Lane looked at her feet for a moment. "Well... Not in so many words." She quickly tried to cover. "But she doesn't have to. I've been her best friend for 15 years Some things go without saying."
He looked her in the eye. "I'll believe it when I see the press release."
"Do you know she talks about you all the time? At first she would tell me about the asinine stunts that you pulled. But gradually, the stories began to center around something witty you said, or the way you checked her out in the hall." She paused for her words to set in. "You should know that before your kiss on her porch, she had only kissed one guy. And that guy broke her heart."
Tristan was a bit miffed.
"You've got to give her some time. She only broke up with Dean about a month and a half ago. She's not the type of person to run out kiss someone else when she's still hurting." She noticed his confused look.
Any credibility he had given her disappeared with her last few statements. She didn't know about the kiss at the party. If she knew Rory as well as she claimed she did, she would have known something as vital as that. He looked her directly in the eye. "Who put you up to this?"
Lane cast him a perplexed look. She noticed the change in his demeanor and feared he was returning to his hostile ways. Looking her directly in the eyes caught her off guard. She stammered a moment before she was able to form a coherent sentence. "What do you mean?"
He put back the CDs he'd been rummaging through. "Was it Tom? He's been pissed at me ever since his girl dumped him."
Lane continued to stare at him. "What are you talking about?"
He mistakenly assumed that her faltering was due to being caught at her game. "Drop the act, I know what you're doing." His voice was sharp and pointed. "One of my friends sent you here to trick me into thinking that Rory had feelings for me, so they could watch as I make a fool of myself pawning after her. It's not going to happen because I'm not falling for that."
Lane crossed her arms over her stomach. "I... Um... I don't know any of your friends, and I certainly wouldn't do anything to hurt Rory. She's my best friend."
He took a few steps closer to her, watching her eyes dart from his in anxiety. "You blew your cover. You're not Rory's best friend. Because if you were, you would know that what you just said was a lie." He began walking out of the store.
Lane took a few steps and called after him. "I don't know what she sees in you."
He stopped for a moment, slowly turning to face her. Deciding to play off of her shyness, he walked back to where she was standing and leaned into her. He waited as she did everything to avoid looking at him. When she finally looked back at him he spoke. "If you are her best friend, then I've got news for you. That kiss on her porch was not her first non-Dean kiss." He emphasized the name with his snide tone. "I suggest you check your sources."
And with that he walked out of the store, leaving a stunned Lane in his wake.
Rory walked through the door to her home, softly shutting it behind her. The squeaking of the hinges echoed through the unusually quiet home. She leaned her back against the hard surface, bracing herself with it's sturdy structure. She'd practiced the movement many times, a tired gesture from the pains of one long day. And she had had many while attending her school, which she lovingly referred to as hell. Her bag slid off her shoulder, landing with a thump on the ground. She released an exhausted sigh as her shoulders slouched in defeat.
Making her way into the kitchen, she stumbled across the tiled floor, collapsing in the first chair. With much drama, she leaned forward, placing her forehead on the table. She slightly raised her head from the table, only to return it with a little tap. She repeated the motion, and before she knew it, her incessant head thumping was casting a hollow, rhythmic noise through the kitchen.
She vaguely heard Lorelai enter the room, her head thumping drowning out the footsteps on the linoleum.
"I'm sorry, I need a refresher course on head Morse code. Was that 'I want pizza for dinner', or 'the neighbor's cat is on fire'?"
Rory let out a little moan in response.
"Chilton really that bad today?" As she had done many times before, she attempted to console her gloomy daughter.
"Worse." The word came out a mixture of a sigh, a whine, and for dramatic effect, a cry.
Lorelai paused, expecting Rory to at least lift her head from the table. But she didn't move. She stared at the brown tresses of her daughter's hair, splayed over her arms and across the table.
"I can't believe they actually did it?" Her voice was muffled by the fact that she was speaking into the wood of the table.
"Did what?", Lorelai inquired. Sensing she was in for a long discussion, she grabbed a half eaten package of skittles from the counter and took a seat across from a distraught Rory.
Rory sighed, realizing any attempt to hide her frustration would be futile.
She raised her head slightly from the table, making sure what she was about to say would be clear. She didn't think she could repeat the words a second time. "They nominated me."
Lorelai waited for her to continue. "For...", she prodded.
"For the worst thing I can possibly think of."
"They nominated you to be the person that wipes up all the sweat from the gym floor? Those boys look cute in their skimpy uniforms, but boy can they sweat."
"Worse." She was whining like a five year old.
"Ooh. Worse?" Lorelai perked up.
She raised an eyebrow at her mother's enthusiasm. "Much."
"As much as I adore your one word answers, can you please elaborate on the issue? We're paying good money for you to be educated and I expect to be forced to dig out the thesaurus at least once during this conversation."
Letting out one final sigh to relay the gravity of the moment, she confessed her worst fear that was now reality. "They nominated me for Founder's Queen?"
"They did what?" Lorelai choked.
Rory flipped her hand in a girlie fashion. "That's right. You're looking at one of the five lucky girls to be in the running for the coveted position of Chilton bimbo."
Lorelai stifled a giggle.
"Mom, if you even laugh at me, I'm going to hide the coffee pot."
"Now that's just cruel," she gasped in response. "What exactly is Founder's Queen?"
She took a deep breath. "Every year the founders of the great institution get together to pat themselves on the back and marvel at what an excellent school they've formed. And as part of that tradition, five girls are selected to be part of the Founder's Court, with one being ultimately crowned Queen to reign over the festivities."
Rory's head returned to the table.
"They only did it to spite me. I've gone to that school for six months, and barely half the students even know my name. They just want to humiliate me."
"Maybe that's not true. Maybe they saw your winning personality and thought, she's got queen written all over her."
Rory glared at her.
"Well, just remove yourself from the running." It was a viable option. In theory.
"Can't," she huffed. "Chilton students are not quitters."
"Oh, right. I forgot you went to the only place on the planet with 100% success rates at everything they do." She had never tried very hard to conceal her disdain for Rory's school.
"And you want to know the worst part?" She couldn't even believe it got worse.
"They have a plaid formal gown for you to wear?"
Rory banged her head once on the table. "They make you attend all these pre-crowning festivities with winners of years past. And they make you take an escort."
"I'm sure there are plenty of guys who would be willing to take you. I'm sure they'd be honored to escort the prettiest girl in the whole school."
Rory rolled her eyes at her mother's naivety. "He has to be an athlete."
Lorelai contemplated for a moment. "You know athletes that go there, right?"
She looked her mother in the eye. "I know one."
"So ask him." Rory glanced at her mother. She really did think it was that simple.
"Can't" She dropped her head on the table dramatically.
"Can't never did anything."
She took a deep breath, raising her head and staring off into space. She was not looking at her mother as she said the next horrid thing. "It's Tristan"
Lorelai let the confession sink in before needling her further. "That's right. He's lettered in tonsil hockey at least 2 years running."
"Mom," Rory pleaded for her not to continue. She was not in the mood.
"And as I recall, my beautiful daughter played his all-star receiver a few times."
She glared at her mother. "It was twice. Two times, Mother. And I'm beginning to regret that I ever told you about the first one." She sighed. "I haven't spoken to him in about a month."
Lorelai pondered for a moment. "Maybe he orchestrated this whole deal, knowing you'd have to ask him, therefore, making certain you would have to speak to him again. Just so that you and he could get back on speaking terms. His peace offering."
Rory rolled her eyes. "You give him too much credit."
Lorelai stood and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Aw. My baby's going to be royalty."
Rory sighed. "I'm royal all right. Royally screwed."
End Part 5