Love is an interesting dynamism; it can make you blissful and contented. It can give you feelings and emotions that you have never experienced before. Feelings that are exhilarating and new, and exciting. Feelings that you never want to go without again. Feelings you don't want to live without. However, like all good things, love must have a flaw; it traps you. It forces you to choose, and no matter what the decision is, one will be hurt. There is only one question that remains; who?

* * * * *

Luke sat on the sofa that rested in the center of the room; the television was turned off, and all he could hear was the insistent ticking of the clock, and the many thoughts that were running through his head.

'She has feelings for you.'

As many times as he said it to himself, the words never became real to him. For so long, those words were always a dream that could never be a reality; she was a dream. A perfect, flawless, beautiful dream and he was so desperately in love with her that he couldn't see anything but her. He had so many sleepless nights because of her. He also had so many wonderful mornings, afternoons, and evenings. . . all because of her.

And then he had met Nicole. She was a wonderful person. She was sweet, she was kind, she was funny, and she liked him. She liked him a lot, and it was obvious every time she looked at him. She filled the void in his heart that was reserved only for Lorelai; not the whole void, but a big chunk of it. . . but Nicole was a replacement.

Luke let out a frustrated groan. 'Why did she have to tell me this now?' He walked over to the stove where he was boiling water for tea, and poured some in a mug, staring at it.

* "Hey Luke." He glanced up as she bounded into the diner, sitting herself on a stool and tossing her purse on the counter.

"Tea?" He asked, raising his eyebrows playfully.

"Not if you want to live until tomorrow. A large cup of coffee. You know, so big that it's almost a bowl. Yeah, a bowl of coffee. Oh, and throw in a donut too, with sprinkles. Lots of sprinkles, and extra topping. I have a death wish today." *

Luke shook his head. Even tea reminded him of Lorelai, and she didn't even drink it. Ever since she had told him how she felt, he couldn't get her off his mind. It had been a week since she had walked into the diner and declared what was on her mind.

During the day, it was relatively easy for him to focus on his life as it existed; he woke up early, opened the diner, and served the customers whatever they wanted. . . but at night, he was alone with his thoughts, with no distractions, and he couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if he had reacted differently. He had replayed the scene in his head so much he started to wonder if it had even really happened. Of course it had really happened, he always told himself, you broke her heart just like you broke your own.

A knock on the door broke Luke out of his daydream. He set his untouched tea on the counter and made his way to the door, opening it effortlessly.

"Nicole," Luke said, surprised. "I wasn't expecting you to stop by."

Nicole smiled gently as she brushed past him into the apartment. "Well, I hadn't heard from you in a couple of days so I thought I would come by and see how you were. Are you all right? You look a little stressed."

'That's the understatement of the year.'

Nicole rubbed her hand over his back in a circular motion. "Can I do anything to help? I'm a good listener, you know that."

Luke turned around to face her, and she dropped her hands to her side. 'Two days ago, I was ready to ask her to marry me. It's now or never, Danes.'

He smiled at her, and took her hands in his, leading her over to the sofa. "Sit down, Nicole. There's something I've been meaning to talk to you about. . ."

* * * * *

Tristan knew he was staring, but he couldn't help it. His eyes followed her every movement; the way she drew her eyebrows together in concentration as she read her textbook, the way she chewed on the eraser of her pencil before she jotted something down, the way her tongue snaked out between her lips to moisten them every once in a while. It drove him crazy that he couldn't touch her, but he didn't want to rush anything. This was the one time that a girl wasn't a conquest to him, and as much as that feeling scared him, it also excited him.

Rory glanced up from her notebook and smirked at him. "See something you like?"

Tristan felt a blush creep up his face. "Do you?" He retorted, smiling playfully in her direction. They had been working on their project at his house for about an hour, but it felt like so much longer. Tristan had never worked so hard on an assignment as he was working with her. She pushed him to his best potential, and he was grateful for it. Maybe he might just pass his history class. He was a smart person, he knew, but he didn't have the stamina, determination, or love of learning that Rory did. In a way, she inspired him.

Rory sighed. "Could you stare at me anymore? What are you thinking?" She closed their books and moved them to the side of the coffee table. She sat on the cream colored sofa while he chose to sprawl himself along the floor, his gaze cast upward in her direction.

"Oh, nothing." Tristan said idly. "You wouldn't want to hear it, and I wouldn't want to make you uncomfortable."

"Okay, now my interest is peaked. Come on, don't leave me hanging."

"I was thinking you're beautiful."

Rory was silent for a moment before uttering "Oh", slightly taken aback. She hadn't been expecting that from Tristan. She knew that they had grown considerably close over the past few weeks, and she was happy to say that she enjoyed his company - as a friend. Or so she thought. Sometimes they just had these moments where their gaze held a little longer than normal, and Rory's heart seemed to beat a little faster. 'It must just be those damn good looks.' Rory thought to herself, but said aloud, "Thank-you."

Tristan smirked. "Come on, you know you're gorgeous."

Rory laughed lightly and reached over the table, playfully swatting him on the arm. "Stop, you're making me blush."

"So? You blush all the time. That's one of the things I like about you." Tristan winked as he noticed her cheeks redden at his comment.

"Okay, this conversation has taken an uncomfortable turn," Rory said, breaking their gaze and opening her notebook once again. She held her pencil above the blank page, but couldn't focus on the project at hand. Tristan tore a page out of her book and began writing. Soon after, he folded up the piece of paper he had been writing on, and slid it between her pencil and her notebook. Rory cast a playful glare in his direction. "I'm guessing this has nothing to do with the project?"

Tristan wiggled his eyebrows mischievously, tapping his finger to his nose. "Ding, ding, ding. Wanna know what your prize is? You get to read it."

Rory gasped and placed her hand over her heart. "No way."

"Way."

Rory slowly unfolded the note and smiled slightly as she read the words that were scrawled messily on the page. 'Go out with me Friday night.'

Rory put her pencil to the same piece of paper, and then folded it up, handing it back to him over the table. 'I have Friday night dinner with my grandparents.'

Tristan smirked, wrote something, and handed it back. The word Friday had been crossed out and replaced with Saturday. Rory smiled, and wrote 'Deal.', handed it to him, and resumed the work on her side of the project.

Tristan stared at what she had written in her neat handwriting; she had finally agreed to go out with him. . . he folded up the paper and tucked it into his back pocket. A hidden smile was dancing on both of their faces, unbeknownst to the other.