Author's Note: I'm jumping around in time a bit, but I'm hoping that it makes sense in the context of the story.
I just wanted to thank klm111a and Carrie and Surya, who were my first reviewers ever and completely made my day. Thank you!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the story of Gilmore Girls. They belong to the WB and Amy Sherman-Palladino.
Chapter 1: The Beginning
She had decided to go the library during lunch that day. She wasn't hungry, and was intent on finishing the book she had brought to school with her. She'd retreated to a corner of the enormous library she had only recently discovered. It was in the back, behind the bookshelves, and she had found a dimly lit area that protruded a few feet into the wall, leaving a convenient place for sitting on the carpeted floor, leaning her back against the wall. It was a comfortable spot and her sanctuary on days when she wanted to get away from everyone.
She had sat down as she did on most days, and focused intently on her book. After several minutes, she had been startled by a familiar voice.
"Well, this is a surprise," he drawled mockingly. "So you've decided to take my spot, have you, Mary?"
She sighed and closed her book as she realized that there would be no more peace for her that day.
"It's not your spot, Tristan. It was empty when I came here, and I sat down first."
"I know the truth, Mary. You followed me here before to find out where you could find me alone, didn't you?" She saw the familiar smirk on his face as he waited for her answer.
She rolled her eyes in response. "Yes, Tristan. I followed you here because I have nothing better to do with my time than try to get you alone. I mean, other people might try talking in the halls if they want your attention. But me? Oh, no. I look for complications. I can't do things the easy way."
He grinned at her, his smile friendly but still mocking. "So, you're in my spot. Move."
"What?" She glared at him, stunned at his audacity to kick her out of a spot she had found first.
"This is my spot. I found it first. Get out." He grinned again to let her know she was just teasing, but crouched down, waiting for her to move.
"In your dreams," Rory answered, exasperated. "I came here first and I'm not leaving. You move." They'd grown to enjoy their banter, but he still exasperated her to no end. He knew exactly how to get to her, and he didn't hesitate to use any means to drive her crazy.
"Look, Mary," he smirked at her again. "I found the spot first, two years ago. You couldn't have found it two years ago because you weren't in Chilton then. So it's my spot. Move." He emphasized the last word and looked carefully for her reaction.
She was not inclined to argue with him today, and dismissed him with a huff and a wave of her hand. "Whatever. I'm going back to my book. You do whatever you want."
She turned away from him and opened her book to where she had left off, oblivious to the mischievous grin on the face of the blond boy behind her.
"Anything I want, is it?" He grinned and placed his hand on her shoulder, expecting her to pull away and glare at him again. He felt like bothering her today, and didn't want her to back to her book and ignore him again.
She glanced at his hand on her shoulder. "Get your hands off me, Tristan."
"But you said," he paused and leaned down to her ear. "that I can do whatever I want."
She stilled at the feeling of his breath in her ear. "I didn't mean it..." she swallowed as she shivers run down her spine as he exhaled, his warm breath on the back of her neck, then rushed to finish her sentence. "... like that. You know what I meant, Tristan."
He tightened his grip on her shoulder. "I have no idea what you're talking about. You said I could do whatever I want."
She wanted him to move back, to let her breathe and clear her mind. His closeness was invading her senses, blocking her ability to think clearly. She could smell his cologne, and hated the fact that she liked having him so close to her, his body almost touching her. She resisted the urge to move closer to him but couldn't force herself to move away, either, as she waited for him to make his next step.
He looked yearningly at the back of her neck. Any minute now he would have to pull away, going back to the normal distance between them. He reminded himself that it was just a game, but suddenly he felt as if it was no longer a game and suddenly something much more serious, much more intimate. He moved his hand from her shoulder to her hair. He hesitated for another second, then moved her hair to the side, allowing him full access to her neck.
She drew in a sharp breath as she felt his fingers lightly touch her neck, moving her hair to the side. Her mind screamed at her to move away, to shake off his touch and go back to her book, but she couldn't force herself to do it. Her book remained open at her lap, and she stared at it unseeingly, waiting for him to do something, hoping, somewhere in the back of her thoughts, that he would not move away from her.
He looked at her, waiting for her to make that inevitable move and break away from him, and was surprised to see that she had all but stopped moving completely. He saw it as a sign of acceptance, and lowered his head to her neck.
She gasped in surprise as his lips touched her neck, almost imperceptibly. She felt a course of unexplained emotions as he continued his journey slowly up her neck, his kisses slow and feathery light until they reached her jaw. She shivered then, as his lips lingered on her jaw and then moved slowly towards her mouth as she felt, to her surprise, that she had moved towards him. She waited for logic to return to her, to come back and tell her that what she was doing was wrong, but all coherent thought remained hidden as she registered only the feeling of his lips on her skin, working their way to her mouth. Her eyes remained stubbornly on her book as he moved back up her jaw line, making his way back up to her ear, then fluttered closed as she felt his teeth close lightly on her earlobe. She could focus only on the sensations running through her body at his touch, could feel only the butterflies that seemed to have permanently resided in her stomach, could sense only the heat running through her veins.
They both jumped when they heard the bell ring, signaling five minutes before the end of the period. She opened her eyes, still not comprehending exactly what had just happened between them, and heard his whispered words in her ear.
"Meet me out in the courtyard after school."
She remained sitting as he swiftly got up and left, swiping his bookbag off the floor as he passed it. After a minute, she shook her head as if to shake the memory of moments ago and the feelings it caused, and closed her book, stuffing it in her bookbag mindlessly. She stumbled to the nearby bathroom and ran in, coming to a stop before the sink. She stared at her reflection and took in her flushed cheeks and disheveled hair, realizing that she couldn't go to class looking the way she did. She splashed cold water on her face and ran her fingers through her hair, taking several deep breaths, then resolutely pushed all thoughts to the back of her head as the bell rang again. She would deal with this later, she decided. It took all of her willpower not to stop and run into one of the bathroom stalls, but she raised her chin decisively and walked to class. She hadn't known it then, but that day had been the beginning of her change.
She didn't meet him after school. It hadn't been an option for her, really--she had to go home and think about it first, think of something casual to say to him the next day, make up ways to avoid what had happened. She had Dean, after all, and life was good--she wouldn't let what had happened in the library change anything.
She refused to think of how he'd made her feel. She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, and focused on what she needed to do--to push him away, to make him realize that it had all been a mistake. She refused to notice the pain she felt at the thought of never having him close to her like that again.
She spent the rest of the afternoon focusing intently on her classes, taking notes feverishly and staring straight ahead to avoid looking at him. She knew, somehow, that he wouldn't follow her to the bus stop if she didn't meet him in the courtyard, knew that he would give her space until she was ready to talk to him. She didn't know why she thought so--he'd never bothered to leave her alone before--but somehow, she felt sure that he would be considerate this time, would leave her alone to think about what had happened in that little corner of the library.
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Author's Note: Please review! Reviews absolutely make my day. I live for them, really. Any responses, positive or negative, are, as always, greatly appreciated.
I just wanted to thank klm111a and Carrie and Surya, who were my first reviewers ever and completely made my day. Thank you!
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters or the story of Gilmore Girls. They belong to the WB and Amy Sherman-Palladino.
Chapter 1: The Beginning
She had decided to go the library during lunch that day. She wasn't hungry, and was intent on finishing the book she had brought to school with her. She'd retreated to a corner of the enormous library she had only recently discovered. It was in the back, behind the bookshelves, and she had found a dimly lit area that protruded a few feet into the wall, leaving a convenient place for sitting on the carpeted floor, leaning her back against the wall. It was a comfortable spot and her sanctuary on days when she wanted to get away from everyone.
She had sat down as she did on most days, and focused intently on her book. After several minutes, she had been startled by a familiar voice.
"Well, this is a surprise," he drawled mockingly. "So you've decided to take my spot, have you, Mary?"
She sighed and closed her book as she realized that there would be no more peace for her that day.
"It's not your spot, Tristan. It was empty when I came here, and I sat down first."
"I know the truth, Mary. You followed me here before to find out where you could find me alone, didn't you?" She saw the familiar smirk on his face as he waited for her answer.
She rolled her eyes in response. "Yes, Tristan. I followed you here because I have nothing better to do with my time than try to get you alone. I mean, other people might try talking in the halls if they want your attention. But me? Oh, no. I look for complications. I can't do things the easy way."
He grinned at her, his smile friendly but still mocking. "So, you're in my spot. Move."
"What?" She glared at him, stunned at his audacity to kick her out of a spot she had found first.
"This is my spot. I found it first. Get out." He grinned again to let her know she was just teasing, but crouched down, waiting for her to move.
"In your dreams," Rory answered, exasperated. "I came here first and I'm not leaving. You move." They'd grown to enjoy their banter, but he still exasperated her to no end. He knew exactly how to get to her, and he didn't hesitate to use any means to drive her crazy.
"Look, Mary," he smirked at her again. "I found the spot first, two years ago. You couldn't have found it two years ago because you weren't in Chilton then. So it's my spot. Move." He emphasized the last word and looked carefully for her reaction.
She was not inclined to argue with him today, and dismissed him with a huff and a wave of her hand. "Whatever. I'm going back to my book. You do whatever you want."
She turned away from him and opened her book to where she had left off, oblivious to the mischievous grin on the face of the blond boy behind her.
"Anything I want, is it?" He grinned and placed his hand on her shoulder, expecting her to pull away and glare at him again. He felt like bothering her today, and didn't want her to back to her book and ignore him again.
She glanced at his hand on her shoulder. "Get your hands off me, Tristan."
"But you said," he paused and leaned down to her ear. "that I can do whatever I want."
She stilled at the feeling of his breath in her ear. "I didn't mean it..." she swallowed as she shivers run down her spine as he exhaled, his warm breath on the back of her neck, then rushed to finish her sentence. "... like that. You know what I meant, Tristan."
He tightened his grip on her shoulder. "I have no idea what you're talking about. You said I could do whatever I want."
She wanted him to move back, to let her breathe and clear her mind. His closeness was invading her senses, blocking her ability to think clearly. She could smell his cologne, and hated the fact that she liked having him so close to her, his body almost touching her. She resisted the urge to move closer to him but couldn't force herself to move away, either, as she waited for him to make his next step.
He looked yearningly at the back of her neck. Any minute now he would have to pull away, going back to the normal distance between them. He reminded himself that it was just a game, but suddenly he felt as if it was no longer a game and suddenly something much more serious, much more intimate. He moved his hand from her shoulder to her hair. He hesitated for another second, then moved her hair to the side, allowing him full access to her neck.
She drew in a sharp breath as she felt his fingers lightly touch her neck, moving her hair to the side. Her mind screamed at her to move away, to shake off his touch and go back to her book, but she couldn't force herself to do it. Her book remained open at her lap, and she stared at it unseeingly, waiting for him to do something, hoping, somewhere in the back of her thoughts, that he would not move away from her.
He looked at her, waiting for her to make that inevitable move and break away from him, and was surprised to see that she had all but stopped moving completely. He saw it as a sign of acceptance, and lowered his head to her neck.
She gasped in surprise as his lips touched her neck, almost imperceptibly. She felt a course of unexplained emotions as he continued his journey slowly up her neck, his kisses slow and feathery light until they reached her jaw. She shivered then, as his lips lingered on her jaw and then moved slowly towards her mouth as she felt, to her surprise, that she had moved towards him. She waited for logic to return to her, to come back and tell her that what she was doing was wrong, but all coherent thought remained hidden as she registered only the feeling of his lips on her skin, working their way to her mouth. Her eyes remained stubbornly on her book as he moved back up her jaw line, making his way back up to her ear, then fluttered closed as she felt his teeth close lightly on her earlobe. She could focus only on the sensations running through her body at his touch, could feel only the butterflies that seemed to have permanently resided in her stomach, could sense only the heat running through her veins.
They both jumped when they heard the bell ring, signaling five minutes before the end of the period. She opened her eyes, still not comprehending exactly what had just happened between them, and heard his whispered words in her ear.
"Meet me out in the courtyard after school."
She remained sitting as he swiftly got up and left, swiping his bookbag off the floor as he passed it. After a minute, she shook her head as if to shake the memory of moments ago and the feelings it caused, and closed her book, stuffing it in her bookbag mindlessly. She stumbled to the nearby bathroom and ran in, coming to a stop before the sink. She stared at her reflection and took in her flushed cheeks and disheveled hair, realizing that she couldn't go to class looking the way she did. She splashed cold water on her face and ran her fingers through her hair, taking several deep breaths, then resolutely pushed all thoughts to the back of her head as the bell rang again. She would deal with this later, she decided. It took all of her willpower not to stop and run into one of the bathroom stalls, but she raised her chin decisively and walked to class. She hadn't known it then, but that day had been the beginning of her change.
She didn't meet him after school. It hadn't been an option for her, really--she had to go home and think about it first, think of something casual to say to him the next day, make up ways to avoid what had happened. She had Dean, after all, and life was good--she wouldn't let what had happened in the library change anything.
She refused to think of how he'd made her feel. She pushed those thoughts to the back of her mind, and focused on what she needed to do--to push him away, to make him realize that it had all been a mistake. She refused to notice the pain she felt at the thought of never having him close to her like that again.
She spent the rest of the afternoon focusing intently on her classes, taking notes feverishly and staring straight ahead to avoid looking at him. She knew, somehow, that he wouldn't follow her to the bus stop if she didn't meet him in the courtyard, knew that he would give her space until she was ready to talk to him. She didn't know why she thought so--he'd never bothered to leave her alone before--but somehow, she felt sure that he would be considerate this time, would leave her alone to think about what had happened in that little corner of the library.
**********************************
Author's Note: Please review! Reviews absolutely make my day. I live for them, really. Any responses, positive or negative, are, as always, greatly appreciated.