Rory stood in the vegetable aisle of the supermarket, gazing intently at the tomatoes, thoroughly confused. She grabbed two, one in each hand, and gave each a firm squeeze. With a sigh, she shrugged and put both of the in the cart.

She had never been very good at distinguishing one from the other. . . that had always been where Tristan came in. He could slice and dice like no one would believe. He would always prepare a meal for her that was so delectable, she would come back for fourths. He always used to chuckle and marvel over her tiny frame, wondering how she managed to stay so thin, but eat enough to fill a small room.

Rory shook her head as if trying to shake away the memories that always seemed to flood back to her, but somehow, she couldn't seem to forget.

* * * * *

Rory stood in the deserted hallway, debating whether to knock or run in the other direction. The gold number 17 stared back at her, and the door seemed to loom over her, as if mocking her somehow. Rory shifted uncomfortably as she finally made her choice. She raised her hand and just as she was about to knock, the door swung open, causing her to gasp.

Tristan stood, leaning against the door frame, a toothy grin forming on his lips. "I've been watching you through the spy hole, wondering whether you would run or knock. I was kind of hoping for the latter."

Rory playfully punched his arm, her other hand still on her chest. "You scared the bijeezes out of me!" Trying to get her breathing back to normal, she looked awkwardly from Tristan's gaze to the inside of his apartment. Finally, she asked, "So, do you plan on keeping me out here all night?"

Tristan shook his head. "Sorry, Mary, I couldn't take my eyes off of you. You look ravishing, as usual."

Rory felt a blush creep up her face, and she tugged nervously at the sleeves of her shirt. "Thanks," she replied, stepping cautiously into the apartment as he held the door open for her.

The apartment was bigger than she expected, but mentally chided herself when she realized his father could easily afford the best living conditions possible. The main room consisted of two leather sofas, one a love seat, and a mahogany coffee table that sat propped in front of the larger of the two. A big screen television sat against the opposite wall, and a shelf above it occupied several DVD's. A large CD player sat on the desk that was in the corner of the room, and a stack of CD's stood beside it.

She glanced down the hallway and noticed three doors, two she assumed to be bedrooms and the other she guessed to be a bathroom.

"Nice place," she commented, sniffing the air that was filled with a remarkable aroma. "Something smells really good."

Tristan smirked. "That's because I'm cooking," he announced proudly. "I thought you might like a nice meal aside from the food you're probably eating from the campus."

Rory shrugged. "It's not that bad, really, but thank-you. I appreciate that. I never knew you could cook."

Tristan shrugged. "There's  a lot you don't know about me."

"I guess that's true," Rory agreed, and sat herself down on a reclining chair. She pulled the lever and let out a sigh of relaxation as she settled herself into it.

"Rough day?" Tristan asked, laughing lightly when he heard her moan in distaste. He watched her close her eyes, and licked his lips yearningly as he took in every aspect of her. She looked great in a pair of black pants and white button down shirt. She could make the simplest of outfits look amazing, he noticed. Her silky brown hair was tied back in an elegant looking ponytail, and her makeup was natural, but somehow made her eyes the slightest bit more blue.

"Uh, so, do you want a drink?" Tristan offered, clearing his throat as he tried to keep his mind on something other than jumping her right then and there.

Rory's eyes flew open and she smiled slightly at him. "Water would be great, actually," she replied, and she put the chair down and followed him into the kitchen. She took a seat at the table in the spacious kitchen that connected off of the living room. Tristan set a tall glass in front of her and opened the oven to check on their dinner.

"I hope you don't mind just sitting in tonight," Tristan said as he took the dish out of warmth of the oven. "I thought maybe we could just enjoy a good meal and sort of get to know one another again. I think we've both changed quite a bit. I can definitely say you have gotten hotter over the years."

Again, Rory felt her cheeks grow crimson and Tristan smirked in her direction. "Though you still don't know how to take a compliment."

Rory laughed and took a sip of her water. "I can too take a compliment." She studied him for a moment before continuing. "It's just that I can never tell if you are being sincere."

Tristan shrugged. "You'll just have to trust me, then won't you?"

"I don't know if I can," she replied honestly, looking down at her empty plate. "I'm sorry."

"Hey, it's okay," he said, sliding into the unoccupied chair across from her. "I didn't expect you to see me and just forgive and forget everything I've done to you over the years. I'll admit, I woke up each day to the thought of what I could do or say to make you angry because you were so much fun to argue with. You made my days at Chilton interesting."

Rory felt a smirk of her own crawl up her lips. "Did I start to bore you after a while?" After receiving a confused glance from him, she refreshed his memory. "Duncan and Bowman?"

Tristan's smirk turned into an embarrassed smile as he nodded his head. "Right. I was sort of hoping you wouldn't remember that."

"Well considering your involvement with those two morons had you sent to Military school, I can see where you would think that would be an easy event to forget." Tristan chuckled and rose to where their meal sat on the counter. "Hungry?" He questioned with raised eyebrows.

Rory's stomach rumbled in response and she laughed bashfully. "A little. What are we having?"

"Baked penne pasta with a wild mushroom ragout," he pronounced proudly, wagging his eyebrows as he served some onto her plate.

Rory glanced at him skeptically. "Should I be prepared to run to the bathroom?"

Tristan pretended to be offended. "Hey, I slaved over a hot stove all day for this meal, you better not run to the bathroom."

Tentatively, Rory raised the fork to her mouth and allowed the food to sit on her tongue for a moment. "Mmmm," she moaned after a long second of silence, relishing the taste in her mouth and allowing an impressed smile to settle on her lips. "This is amazing! Where did you learn to cook like this?"

"My dad," Tristan admitted. "He was always handy to have around in the kitchen. That is, until he became too busy to cook for us and hired a maid to do it for him." Rory noticed a flicker of sadness in his eyes and decided not to press him for details. If he wanted to talk to her about that, he could do it when he felt comfortable.

"Well, I may just need seconds, and possibly thirds."

Tristan rolled his eyes. "How do you do it, Mare?"

"Do what?"

"Make me like you a million times more every time I see you?"

"Well, whatever I'm doing must be infectious. . . I have to admit, DuGray, you're sort of growing on me."

* * * * *

Dear Rory,

I love you, and only you. . . I can only imagine what thoughts are running through your head right now after what you saw, but I promise you that you have it all wrong. . . please, I'm beginning to sound like a broken record. . .

* * * * *

TO BE CONTINUED . . .