Disclaimer. See previous chapters.
Minus Dean 4
He was talking to himself. But he couldn't believe what he had done. It was incomprehensible. One thing's not wanting to stay away from Rory, but kissing her as if they had the oldest of friendships. What the hell was she? His closest friend? Did he think that she was the kind of girl that would find that charming, or tempting, or whatever?
Well, she wasn't. Not that he knew that for a fact, but he figured she wasn't.
With Rory, it was like that time that George in Seinfeld did the exact opposite of what it was supposed to be done. Rory was like that, being the exact opposite of any girl that attended Chilton he should figure that with her, he should do the exact opposite.
Granted, it was just a simple gesture. And a nice experience. He had kissed many girls. In fact, the 'kiss on the cheek' was a common thing to him with girls. It was a step before the big thing, the great good-ol' make-out session. It was a move. A very finely tuned move. But this time the results had been the opposite. He had felt everything - unlike the other times with the other girls that he felt nothing -, with Rory it had been different. The moment he leaned in he closed his eyes and let all of his other senses take over. He could smell her hair – a mixture of wild flowers -, he could feel her skin, he could smell her perfume – something soft and fresh -, and what he enjoyed the most. . . listening how she caught her breath when he leaned in – and this brought a smile to his face.
When he finally arrived at his house in Hartford, he parked his car behind the other ones. Someone will fix them later on, for the meantime he was going to go and talk to his life long confidant: Will.
Will had been and important part in Tristan's life. He had given strength when he needed it. He had advised him, when need to. Tristan trusted him completely. He knew that there would be no way that he would ever betray him. . . under any circumstances.
He went directly to the kitchen, using the service entrance just so he could avoid running into any unwanted guests – there usually was at his house mostly a friend of his mom's that would try to set him up with her daughter, by telling him what a lovely girl she was, and how they would make a fine couple, and then he would nod and smile and after they where gone ask his mother to tell him when there were people over. And she tried, but sometimes it was impossible to call and tell him and he would run into them at the house. . . it was a cycle, an uncomfortable one.
So one day he decided that he would use some other entrance and avoid all that completely.
As he was going into the house he ran into the one person that he wanted to see. He was preparing some cold cuts for the people that came over to visit his mom. He took a seat in front of the counter that Will was working at.
Tristan sighed.
Will smiled.
And Tristan started talking. "So, how you've been Will?"
"I've been fine, Master, thank you. . . how about you?"
"Oh, well. . ."
"May I prepare something for you?"
"No, I ate enough for three meals today, so you shouldn't worry about breakfast tomorrow either." Tristan joked.
"That much?" Will asked.
"You have no idea how much."
"And how did this happen?"
"Well, you see. . . there's this girl" Tristan started.
"Oh!" Will exclaimed, looking at Tristan.
"Oh, indeed my friend"
"I always like the stories that start with 'there's this girl'. . . and with you, Master, they always start like that. Would you mind holding that story for me while I take this to your mother?" Will asked as he lifted the tray with the cold cuts in it. Everything else had already been served.
"No, go right ahead."
"Wait here, Master, I'll be back in a minute." And Will departed to complete his task. Tristan waited where he was sitting for Will to get back.
He didn't take long.
"So, Master Tristan. . Carry on with your story."
"What's with the whole 'Master' thing? I thought we were past that by now" Tristan asked.
"I do believe, Master, that Emily Post has reappeared. Your mother emphasized the need to call you Master. We are only following orders."
"But I thought I was on the 'in-between' phase. . . you know, neither Master nor Mister."
"Apparently your mother thinks that not using a title to address you with is not proper."
"Can you not call me Master? At least when we are away from my mother?"
"Will that make you more comfortable?"
"Yep."
"OK. . . so tell me about this girl."
"Where should I start?"
"How about the beginning. It is popular belief that it is a good place to start with a story."
"Always the comedian. . . I met her in school –she's new, just transferred – and she is beautiful."
"They always are." Will clarified.
"But she's different" and at Will's incredulous look, he added "really! She is not only pretty, but smart, and doesn't take anything from anyone."
"Not even from you?"
"Especially not from me. She has turned me down every single time I've tried to approach her. It is deflating my ego."
"Is she worth it?"
"Every try and effort."
"So she is different."
"That's what I've been telling you."
"Why?"
"Why, what?" Tristan asked confused.
"Why is she different than any other girl?"
Tristan pondered. Then smiled and answered "She's smart. She isn't intimidated by things that would normally intimidate someone our age – and if she is, she doesn't show it. She keeps me on my toes. She has this quality to her, she seems so innocent that you want to protect her. She likes stuff someone our age wouldn't normally like. She is goal oriented. She reads several books at a time. . ."
"So she is different than anyone you've ever known."
"I thought we had already established that."
"I know. But you describe her, and your facial expression changes. I've never seen that happen with any other girl before. She must be one amazing girl."
"Oh, she is. Believe me."
"So how long has she been attending Chilton?"
"Since Monday"
"And would it be safe to assume, that you are worried?"
Tristan didn't answer.
"What is it that worries you?"
"I have no idea."
"Would you like to listen to my two cents, Mas. . . Tristan?"
"By all means."
"If she really is like you are describing her, and I think she is, then what worries you is that you don't know how to handle. . ." at this Tristan gave him a I-know-how-to-handle-girls look, and Will added "not handle her, but handle the situation"
"You think?" Tristan asked sarcastically.
"She is completely different to what you are used to. Just the fact that she doesn't giggle. . ."
"She is not the giggling type" Tristan interrupted.
". . . just the fact that she won't giggle when you address her puts her on a different league. On a League of her Own minus the baseball reference. She is different, and one worries when dealing with different. Does not mean that one does not know how to deal with it, it just takes a little more time to learn how."
"Your two cents sounded more like a quarter."
"What I am saying is that you don't have to know how to handle every situation. You are young and you still have a lot to learn. Don't think that with puberty comes knowledge, because it doesn't. Your teenage years are time so you can learn how to handle a small part of what is to come. You just don't have to rush to get all the answers. Your teens won't last long enough for that."
"So what you are saying is that I need to take my time to get to her?"
"Not take your time to get to her, just time to get to know her. If she is different and complex, then you have your work cut out for yourself there. Take every time she gives you to learn from her and about her. I think that after that, and if you are your true self, the outcome of it will be a positive one."
"You should have been my butler when I was his age. All that sage advice would have come in handy when I was tormented and misunderstood. My Nanny wasn't as wise as you are" Candace DuGrey said as she was walking towards where they were talking in the kitchen. Neither one of them had noticed her standing by the door.
"Mam, I didn't know you were here."
"I came in around the league of her own reference, and I couldn't bring myself to cut in the middle of your advice." She said referring to Will. "Hello, son" she said as she placed a small kiss on Tristan's forehead "how was your day?"
"It was. . . good. How was yours?" He asked his mom as she walked towards the water filter near the stainless steel sink.
"Good. Until that retched Mrs. Andrews came over with that boring girl that is her daughter and I can't, for the life of me, remember what her name is"
"The young girl's name is Cassandra" Will told her.
She snapped her fingers. "Yes, Cassandra. . . thanks Will. I think they were hoping to catch a glimpse of my handsome son" she said, grinning, as she brought her glass of water to her lips.
"Well your handsome son knows better by now and comes in by some other door, so he can avoid your nose-y friends and they're boring daughters."
"So, new girl in your life Tristan?"
Tristan smiled. "You could put it that way"
"What other way is there to put it?" she asked confused.
"We could say that she is in the vicinity."
"I think I like her already. You should arrange for me to meet her."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because any girl that is not throwing herself at you, is worth knowing by your mother"
"So, you –my mother" he said pointing a finger to his chest "want to meet a girl that is not interested in me."
"No, your mother wants to meet the girl that is making you think of ways to win her over. That alone, proves that she is worth it."
"Shouldn't you be going back to your visitors?"
"Yeah, I should. I will. We'll continue this later" she said as she started to walk out of the kitchen.
"There's no way we are discussing this further" he said with a small smile.
"If you don't want to continue this further with me, I think your father would be interested on the background of this girl. What did you say her name was?"
"I didn't say. And how's after your visits are gone work for you?"
"Just great." She said and winked back at him. And then left the kitchen.
"How did I get into this Will? Discussing my love-life with my mother?"
Will just smiled.
~*~
When Rory went into the house, she had a hand on her cheek. That simple gesture, had gotten to her, she couldn't believe it but it did.
For a second she had seen him doubt the move. He had pondered, just for a second. And then he just leaned in and kissed her on the cheek.
She had taken that moment to close her eyes, just for a second to enjoy all the emotions. She had been nervous. But when she closed her eyes she had let all of her senses take over. She listened at how he breathed in when he leaned in, and she could smell a mixture of cologne and soap, and a hint of leather (that she figured was from the seats in his car), she felt his well-shaved skin touch hers. She smiled.
"Rory" she heard her mother call from the stairs with one shoe on her foot and the other in her hand "stop daydreaming and go get ready, we are already late as it is"
She returned to reality and proceeded to her room to do as she had been told. . . or at least she went to get ready.
Dinner at the grandparents had been uneventful.
Emily hardly spoke. They both figured that it was because they had been late. Emily Gilmore did not like unpunctual people.
They were forced to promise to be punctual next Friday.
~*~
Tristan, unlike many of the boys and girls of Hartford society, had a semi-normal relationship with his mother. She had always been a good mother to him. She had married his father (10-years-and-some-moths older than she was) when she had been 25. They had traveled around as a just-married couple for two months, as their honeymoon. When they got back they started trying to get pregnant. It only happened five years later after they married. They had had Tristan, and Tristan's father had decided that it would be best if they only had one son. Tristan's mom and dad had started drifting apart a little as they grew older. They still loved each other very much, and were still married. But now that their age difference was more noticeable (she was currently 47 and he was 58), it was making it more difficult for them. But Tristan's mom always said If love is too easy, then it's not love but fondness; love always takes so much more work, and it has always been worth it.
Tristan's father's a strict man that is really involved in the society responsibilities that come with a name such as DuGrey and, of course, his company. He has been a good father, but Tristan had a better mother. She could play the society lady well, but never enjoy it. That's why Emily Post appeared and reappeared in her life. She said that she had to polish her manners every once in a while. Tristan would just smile at that.
He still had his problems with both his mother and father. He had a better relationship with his mother than the one he had with his father. The pressure to behave in a DuGrey Manner always came from his father, and Tristan hated it. . . although he always did it well. School was proof of that.
When his mother's visitors finally decided to leave (a little disappointed that they didn't get to see Tristan), Candace DuGrey went to look for her son. He was in the library entertaining the idea of picking up a book that wasn't for school.
"English project?" She asked as she came in.
"Nope, just browsing." He said never leaving his task.
"How's English going?" she questioned him, as she knew her son was having a little trouble with the subject.
"I've got myself a tutor. . ." he said with a book in his hands, and then finally looked at his mother and added "or maybe I should call her a study partner" he said in a wondering kind of way.
"So you've got a girl for a study partner?"
"Yes" he said and went back to his browsing.
"Who is she?"
"Some girl at school" he answered vaguely.
"I figured that much. I'm asking for a name."
"You won't know her, she's new at school."
"So new girls don't have names?"
"Nope" he answered, grinning "but I gave her one that suits her perfectly"
"You're always so thoughtful" she said.
"Her name's Rory. . . but I call her Mary" he said with a little spark in his eye.
"You are still doing that. I hope she smacks you every time you call her that"
"She's beyond smacking. She throws witty remarks."
"So you banter a lot then? Because I know my son isn't one to stay quiet" she stated.
"Yes we do. It's fun with her."
"Is that where you were this afternoon?"
"Yeah, we were doing some homework that we had for the weekend. English, you know?"
"Does Rory have a last name?"
"You're doing it again"
"What? What am I doing?" his mom asked innocently.
"That thing that dad does. The one where you are trying to find out who is she and where does she come from." He said looking at her again.
"I'm sorry, but unlike your father I just care to know who my son is hanging out with"
"Gilmore" he said nonchalantly.
"Oh," Candace said, and then realization hit her "Oh!"
"Yeah, well. . ."
"Is she. . you know. . . related to, um. . ."
"On both accounts, yes"
"Oh!"
"Could you do some other exclamation?"
"Wow!"
"Better" he said sarcastically.
"So, how is. . ."
"She is exactly like Lorelai, although I think she just might have something of her father."
"You've met Lorelai?"
"Yes." He deadpanned. "Great person."
"Yes, she is. She never took anyone's crap, not even her parents"
"Sounds like her."
"And sounds like Rory too."
"Yeah" he said letting his guard down a little.
"I would really like to meet her, if I get a chance."
"That would be difficult to arrange"
"Why?"
"I am not exactly on her good side"
"She's tutoring you, isn't she?"
"Yeah, but. . "
"Well, if you weren't on her good side, she wouldn't be helping you."
"She's nice that way."
"Which means that probably you are in the vicinity of the good side" She answered, just as he had minutes before.
"May be."
"Do you want to be on her good side?" she asked.
"I don't know mom"
"Because it seems to me as. . ."
"You know what mom?" he interrupted her "I don't want to talk about this anymore, if you don't mind."
"Is that what you want?"
"Yeah" he said, and then added apologetically "I don't mean to be rude to you mom, I really don't, but I don't know as of yet what I want, or what this means, and at the moment I don't want to wonder about it if you don't mind."
"I don't. It's Ok, you're entitled to your privacy."
"It's not because of privacy, it's just that I don't want to make a big deal out of something that could be nothing."
"That's Ok, Tristan. So, have you decided on a book?"
"Not really," he said with a hint of a smile.
"I have a couple of suggestions, if you want. . ."
"Suggest away" he said, and gesture with his hands.
She proceeded to name him a couple of books, and he finally took the first suggestion his mother gave him: Hemingway. He figured he could probably like that.
~*~
Author's Note. This was a filler chapter. Next chapter will be up soon. I just figured that everyone needed to know where Tristan stood about the whole issue. I hope you enjoyed.
