A.N: Thank you for all the birthday wishes and the reviews. :) I can't say anything about Natalie without giving it away but I will say that she is not pregnant. Neither is she suffering from an eating disorder. Heh. I think I'm settling into a routine with writing this so you should be able to expect an update every two weeks or so.
EDIT: Minor typing mistake. Thanks Trixie, for pointing it out. :) Rory's palm pilot is Fred.
It Had To Be You
by inmyeyes
09 : The First Move
As she shut the front door behind her, she had the absurd urge to sigh dreamily. Instead, she settled for a broad grin. The grin remained intact as she moved further into the house, and she was forced out of her reverie when she bumped into her mother. When she noticed her mom's knowing smile, she inwardly groaned, realizing that she might as well have given in to that impulse to sigh.
"Good night Mom," she called out breezily, praying that Lorelai would get the hint and leave her to her thoughts. But she knew better; her mother was not one who paid attention to subtleties.
"You're looking like the cat that ate the canary," she commented, raising her brow.
"I may love my chicken, but birds are off limits to me."
"Things went well with Tristan, then?"
Rory feigned nonchalance. "Reasonably well."
Mischief glinted in the elder Gilmore's eyes. "So well that it warranted a good night kiss, huh?"
"Mom!" Rory's jaw dropped. "I can't believe you!"
"No, I wasn't watching through the curtains." She didn't think Lorelai's grin could get any bigger but it did. " But you just proved my theory right, dear."
Rory shook her head exasperatedly but Lorelai saw the amused tilt of her lips. "Good night Mom."
She let out a low chuckle once her bedroom door was closed behind her. Leaning against it, she finally let her mind digest the last few minutes of her night with Tristan. After about half hour of sitting at the gazebo, arms wrapped around each other, Rory had reluctantly called it a night after a quick glance at her watch which told her that it was well past midnight. She had insisted on walking back by herself, but he was determined to walk with her, saying that it would be ungentlemanly of him to let her go by herself. She had not protested.
The walk back to her house was relatively silent, but the reassuring feel of his hand in hers made any talking superfluous. She had mentally debated on how to end the night; a handshake was a little too formal, a hug was permissible, a kiss on the cheek seemed appropriate and she quickly banished all thoughts of really kissing him.
But her stubborn mind refused to co-operate and she was taunted with the hazy memory of their first and only kiss from years ago. Snippets of the conversation that preceded the kiss flooded her followed by a cloudy feeling that she couldn't put a name on. She had sneaked a look at him then, swallowing hard when her eyes lingered on his lips.
When they stopped on her front porch, a wave of nervousness washed over her and she found that she couldn't meet his gaze. She couldn't really remember what it was he had said, but whatever it was, he had made her laugh and the ice was broken and that comfortable feeling that she had experienced all night came rushing back. She had thanked him for a nice night, he accepted it and beamed brightly at her and suddenly, she wanted to know what it was like to kiss him.
So, instead of kissing his cheek like she had planned, she opted for a light kiss on his lips. The contact had been light and sweet; nothing more than a quick brush of their lips but Rory still blushed when she pulled away. She had half-expected him to pull her back to him – she had almost wanted him to- but he didn't. He merely smiled at her, a smile that she noticed reached his eyes, and tenderly caressed her cheek. Then he was gone.
And she had all but melted into a pile of goo on her front porch, her fingers on her lips as she recalled the warmth and softness of his.
Throwing herself on her bed, she felt a surge of happiness run through her. She had thought that things with Tristan would be much better than they had been when they were teenagers but she didn't expect things to go this well.
As she settled herself comfortably on her bed, her last thought was of how handsome Tristan looked when he smiled at her.
* * * * *
He felt tired, but it was a good kind of tired. On his drive home, he couldn't stop smiling as he thought over all that had happened that night. The talking, the comfort between them and that unexpected kiss at the end… he went over every single moment in his mind, wanting to cherish each moment.
She was every bit as wonderful as he had dreamed her to be all those years ago. She was funny, thoughtful, caring-
"Tristan."
At the sound of his father's voice, his thoughts were abruptly cut off and he contemplated just ignoring the call.
"Tristan, I'd like to talk to you." The command was clear in his hard tone.
He felt the insane urge to stamp his foot like a five-year old and run up to his room; instead he merely ran a hand through his hair and let out a huge breath.Entering the living room, he spotted his father seated regally in the armchair, a glass of brandy in his hands. He stayed by the door, his gaze challenging as he waited for whatever it was his father wanted to say to him.
"I heard from your mother that you were out with Rory Gilmore tonight."
The slight inclination of Tristan's head was the only response given.
"Good, you listened to my advice." Stephen ended his sentence with a self-satisfied smile.
Clenching his fists by his side, Tristan took a breath before speaking, "If you say so." Without waiting for a response, he strode out of the room.
Later, in the safety of his bedroom, he let loose a string of expletives that would have made a sailor blush. When he finally felt like all his anger was spent, he grabbed his sketchbook, his charcoals and sat down to capture the night's highlight- the look on Rory's face when she pulled away from kissing him.
* * * * *
After dodging countless questions from her ever-inquisitive mother, Rory breathed a sigh of relief once Lorelai finally left for work. Enjoying the silence that enveloped her, she decided to catch up on work that she had missed. It took her a few minutes to locate her trusty palm pilot, Fred; it had been a few days since she actually used it, something that surprised her once she realized it as Fred was usually practically glued to her.
Looking through her calendar, a rush of disappointment filled her; she only had 4 days left before she had to return to the hustle and bustle of New York. At that thought, she was reminded that it had been a while since she had chatted to Samantha.
It took her another few minutes to locate the phone, and once she found it buried under a pile of dirty laundry, she immediately dialed the number she knew by heart and waited for the person on the other line to pick up.
"New York Times, Samantha Lee speaking. How can I help you?"
"Good morning, Miss Lee. I'd like to lodge a complaint," Rory said, trying not to giggle. "It seems like you haven't bothered to give your friend, Rory Gilmore, a call."
A loud sigh sounded. "Well," Sam began, "unlike some people, I've been busy trying to meet deadlines."
Rory laughed. "I'm sorry, Sam. I can't imagine how hell-ish it is."
"You know what you can do to make it up to me?" She went on without waiting for an answer, "You can come back to work."
"But Sam," Rory said, striving to sound overly distressed, "Ed would kill me if I come back before my week is up."
"Yeah well, I'm dying under the piles of work here." Samantha groaned. "How are things on your end? Getting all that rest that Ed prescribed?"
All the drama between her mom and herself as well as the Tristan issue came to mind. "Yeah, I guess so," she said wryly.
"Rory, tell me."
Rory laughed. "You know me too well."
"Yeah, it's a curse," Sam joked.
"Well," Rory wasn't sure what to say, "I'm kinda… well, I'm kinda seeing someone."
There was a short silence before there was a squeal of happiness. "Wow. That's great. Who is he?"
"His name is Tristan," Rory offered. "We went to Chilton together."
"Chilton, huh? I don't remember you telling me about someone named Tristan."
"That's because I didn't."
"Well, obviously, you should have."
Rory had to grin. "Yeah, obviously."
She heard the muffled sound of cursing and Sam's voice came over the line a few seconds later. "Damnit, my computer decided to hang again," she sighed. "I need to do damage control."
"Good luck, I'll probably see you when I get back."
"Oh, you definitely will. And be prepared to share details!"
* * * * *
"So I hear through the ever-reliable grapevine that you were out with Rory."
Tristan stifled a groan. Oh God… is there really no one else to gossip about but me?"
Paris took a long sip of her iced tea before smiling knowingly. "So, it is true." She shook her head, sounding resigned when she said, "I'm friends with both of you, yet I hear this from Louise."
He knew better than to refute what she had said. "It was only dinner," was his nonchalant reply.
"Only dinner?" Paris repeated, her tone mocking. "Not when it comes to you and Rory."
Tristan let out a long suffering sigh. "It was completely friendly, nothing more." Raising a brow he offered, "And you can pass on that little tidbit to dear ol' Louise."
He shifted uncomfortably as she regarded him with cool eyes. "I don't understand you, DuGrey," she said finally. "You'd think that years and years of friendship coupled with my excellent deductive skills would have allowed me to figure you out a long time ago. But," she raised her shoulders, her smile somewhat defeated, "you're still a mystery."
Tristan leaned back against the wicker chair, his forehead scrunched in confusion. "What are you going on about, Paris? Do you even have a point?"
"My point is," she said, pointedly glaring at him, "that you're not the kind to go on friendly dinners. Especially with a certain Rory Gilmore."
He pretended to ponder her words for a second before shaking his head. "Nope, still don't see your point."
Paris threw her hands up in frustration and let out a low growl as Tristan struggled not to laugh at her reaction. "I give up. Do whatever you wanna do."
He picked up his glass and lifted it up in a mocking salute. "Don't I always?"
The smirk on his face was her undoing. "You're an arrogant bastard, you know that?"
The smirk widened. "Thank you. My father will be glad to hear that."
"You're going back to New York in a few days, right?" Paris asked.
"Yeah, Nick called me the other day." He ran a hand through his hair, frowning at the thought of all the paperwork that was waiting for him. "He had the audacity to tell me of all the work I'm missing when he was the one who insisted on the break."
He was too preoccupied to notice the look that passed in her eyes. "How is he doing?"
Tristan made a noncommittal sound. "Busy but fine… which is always the case."
"Well-" The shrill ring of her cellphone cut her off and Paris smiled apologetically as she answered the call. "Hello?" She looked up and flashed Tristan a smile as she said, "Hi, Rory."
* * * * *
She jumped up from her perch on the porch steps when she spotted his sleek Porsche sliding into her driveway. Smoothing down her light blue peasant blouse and tugging her jacket tighter around her, she stood smiling as he got out of his car and slowly sauntered to her.
"Hi," he called out, his smile bright. But it quickly turned cheeky and Rory anticipated the teasing comment that she knew would come her way. "Eager to see me, Rory?"
She shook her head, her dark hair swishing about her as she laughed. "You just had to ruin that nice moment, didn't you?"
His grin was lop-sided as he held out his hand. When her own hand was safely ensconced in his, he tugged her forward and they fell into step. "It's my duty to keep you on your toes," he countered.
"Au contraire, I'd say you're becoming predictable."
He pretended to look affronted. "Predictable? Moi?" Rory laughed at his horrible French accent. "I don't think so, ma cherie."
Once they were seated in his car, the engine purring lightly, he turned to her with an expectant look. "So… where are we going?"
* * * * *
"Turn right here," Rory instructed. "And you can stop just ahead."
And so, they arrived at their destination, barely 5 minutes later.
"Hmm, you must be planning something exciting," Tristan commented once they were both standing on the sidewalk. "A hardware store. You're not a hardware store kind of girl."
Rory ignored his babbling and reached for his hand, pulling him along with her. "Yup, something very exciting indeed. We're having coffee."
"Okay wait… we're having coffee in a hardware store." A bell sounded as Rory pushed open the door and Tristan blinked in surprise. "Oh. I see."
"Common mistake," Rory said, grinning. She swept her arm in a wide arc. "So, you pick a spot to sit."
His eyes took in the half-full diner. As he
was about to point her to a table near the counter, he spotted the man behind
it who was glowering at him. "As long as it's far away from Glowering Man over
there," Tristan said, nodding in that direction.
Rory turned to look but when she turned back to him, her eyes were laughing. "That's just Luke. He's been feeding me all my life." She waved at Luke, smiling at him to tell him that Tristan was harmless (although her mind chafed at the idea of linking the word harmless to Tristan), then she led Tristan to an open table near the window.
Tristan endured the quasi-interrogation that Luke put him through, somehow realizing that Rory meant a lot to the man. He managed to get through it without once breaking his polite expression, although he was aware that Rory was trying hard to hold back her laughter. Once Luke was satisfied with his line of questioning, they ordered burgers, fries and coffee and sat back.
"Nice man, that Luke," he commented, smiling slightly.
Rory's eyes softened. "He doesn't like to show it but he cares a lot for my mom & me."
"I know," came Tristan's answer. "I could tell." He kept his eyes on her, observing the way she nervously bit on her lip. Not knowing what was wrong but wanting to take her mind off it, he decided to lighten the tone of their conversation. "So, this was your great idea for today? Coffee?"
"Hey," she said defensively. "I'll have you know that Luke makes great coffee."
"I thought that you would have dragged me off somewhere. Bowling, maybe."
"Bowling?" Her voice was incredulous.
"Well," he shrugged. "You were talking to Paris just now."
Her lips curled in a grin. "And why would she have suggested bowling?"
Tristan tried to backtrack. "I dunno… she just might have."
Rory tilted her head, studying him. "You're not telling me something."
"Nope," he grinned back.
Rory reached for her cellphone in her pocket and held it up. "I'll call Paris and ask if you don't tell yourself," she threatened.
"Okay, okay, I'll tell you," Tristan conceded. He lowered his voice to a whisper. "I'm bad at bowling." He paused dramatically. "No, that's being kind. I suck at bowling."
Rory put on a look of mock surprise. "Tristan DuGrey, being bad at something? That's unheard of!"
He leaned forward, his lower lip jutting
out in a pout. "I know, it's horrible."
"Well, that's it then. There's a change of plans; we'll go bowling," Rory announced gaily. "There's a bowling alley a few blocks away."
"Didn't you hear me say that I suck at bowling?"
"Yes," she laughed. "But it's nice to hear it again."
The pout returned. "You're mean."
She winked at him. "And you haven't even seen me bowl yet."
Tristan groaned, covering his face with his hands.
"What's wrong with him?" Luke asked as he brought their orders.
Rory merely smiled. "We're going bowling."
Luke reached out and lightly patted the young man's shoulder. "Good luck," he said.
Rory couldn't stop laughing as Tristan groaned yet again.
* * * * *
"I beat you!" Rory sing-songed, dancing circles around him.
"How old are you again?" Tristan asked.
Rory stuck her tongue out at him. "You're just a sore loser."
He snorted. "No, believe me, I'm used to getting by butt kicked at bowling."
"I'll never seen anyone throw as many gutter balls as you," she exclaimed gleefully.
"Thanks for your support," Tristan said sarcastically.
Rory smiled and linked her arms with his. "I usually suck at this sort of thing, but it seems like bowling is the only sporty thing I'm good at."
"Sucks for me," Tristan mumbled. "You should cut me a little slack; I've been trying to impress you."
"Impress me?" she grinned. "Yeah, your bowling was real impressive."
"I'm gonna kill Paris," he mumbled under his breath, more embarrassed than angry.
"It's not her fault," she refuted. "You're the bad bowler."
He rolled his eyes. "God, are you ever gonna let it go?"
"Nope." Her smug grin fell away as she took in his self-conscious expression. Her smile turned shy as she gently steered him towards the ice-cream parlour a few doors down. "Come on, I'll buy us some ice-cream."
"In this weather?"
Her smile was so infectious that he found himself smiling back at her. "Yup."
Minutes later, they made their way to an empty bench as Tristan fought to keep the ice-cream from dripping onto his hand.
"I can't believe you talked me into this."
"I can talk anyone into anything," Rory declared, her grin wide. "I'm talented like that."
Tristan made a disapproving sound. "Talent does not include choosing chocolate."
"As if strawberry is any better," she retorted, sitting down on the bench and biting into her cone.
"Strawberry is a perfectly respectable ice-cream flavour."
"No," she disagreed. "Strawberry is a fruit. And fruits should not be ice-cream flavours."
"I'm freezing," he whined.
"Thanks for the newsflash." Her eyes lit up. "Since we're freezing, we can go get some coffee."
"Huh? I think the cold fried my brain cells. Where's the co-relation between cold and coffee?"
By that time Rory had gotten up and when she reached for his hand, he jumped. "Rory, your hand is cold!" He rubbed his hands together, trying to regain feeling in his numb fingers.
"You're such a baby."
"Bite me."
"No thanks," she said, shuddering. "I don't wanna get rabies."
"You're a such smart ass," he said, allowing her to lead him to wherever it was she was bringing him to.
"Thank you," was her answer, coupled with a gracious smile. Then, she abruptly stopped, causing Tristan to look up.
"And we're at Luke's again," he sighed. He saw that Rory was about to say
something and held his hand up, cutting her off. "Yes, I know. Coffee."
As they entered the diner, Rory commented, trying not to laugh, "You're like a well-trained puppy."
The dirty look that he sent her way made her laughter bubble over.
* * * * *
"I can't believe Luke threw us out!" she remarked as she held the door open and gestured for him to enter the house.
"You were the one who was throwing straw wrappers into that lady's hair," he pointed out, taking off his jacket.
"Well, her permed hair was so big that I just had to."
As Rory took his jacket from his hands, he looked around the front hallway, noticing that the house was dark. "Are you sure that your mom won't mind?" he asked, for the third time.
She waved her hand dismissively. "Not at all."
They walked further into the house and Rory turned the lights on and pointed him in the direction of the living room while she made her way to the kitchen. "Do you want coffee?" she called out.
Tristan took his gaze off the photos he had been looking at and answered, "Rory, we just had coffee five minutes ago."
Moments later, she emerged from the kitchen, a bottle of water in her hands. "Okay, so that's a no. Is water all right?"
"Yup." He easily caught the bottle that she threw at him. He sat down on the couch and she joined him a few minutes later with a mug of coffee in her hands.
"So, what do you wanna do?" she asked, regretting her question when she turned to him and saw him playfully leering at her.
"Let's see now," Tristan said, tapping his fingers on his chin. "I'm in an empty house with a beautiful girl. What could we possibly do?"
Rory tried to pretend that she didn't know that her cheeks were colouring. "Yeah, I have the perfect idea."
His breath hitched as she lowered her lashes and slowly licked her lips; he found himself leaning closer to her. "And what's your brilliant idea, Miss Gilmore?"
She let her gaze meet his and allowed the tension to build before she said anything. "Well…" she trailed off deliberately, knowing what he was thinking. "We could play Scrabble."
"Scrabble?"
"Yes, Scrabble."
"I wasn't thinking of Scrabble." He leaned closer still to her.
"I know," she whispered back.
He wanted to kiss her so badly, but a part of him wanted her to make the first move. "Rory?"
"Hmm?" Her attention had diverted to his lips. She snapped out of it when she felt his fingers lightly cupping her chin, bringing her gaze to his.
"Look," he said, hoping that whatever he wanted to say came our right. "I like you, Rory."
She smiled at that. "I like you too."
"I don't wanna mess things up," he continued, his smile wan. "So… if anything's gonna happen, you're gonna have to be the one who makes the first move."
Rory took a second to digest his words. "The first move?"
He nodded, giving in to the urge to stroke her cheek. "Uh huh."
Tristan felt his heart start to race as her hand found its way up his chest.
"So," her voice was a whisper as she inched closer, "I have to-"
The moment was broken as the front door was opened and a voice called out, "Rory!"
Shaking herself out of her daze, Rory gave a shaky smile but didn't move away from him.
Footsteps sounded before Lorelai appeared at the hallway, smiling cheerily. "Look who I have with me!"
Rory's jaw fell open in surprise. "Dad?"
Christopher smiled fondly. "Hi Rory."
* * * * *
