P2: Girl eyes.

Within ten minutes of Lorelai leaving Rory was asleep. Thirty minutes after she had fallen asleep she felt a hand wafting through her hair. The hand tilted on to her cheek, cold fingers slipping over her rosy flesh. Leaning into the hand while sleeping, she felt it suddenly disappear. Breaking the spell that seemed to come with her sleep, she awoke.

Jetting up into a sitting position, her whole body caught in a cold sweat, she searched the room with her eyes. "Hello?" she questioned. Upon seeing no one, she was about to settle back in bed but noticed the door ajar. Who was in her room?

Her foot hit the cold wooden floor, as soon as it did so she seemed to be captured in a dream world.

There was a fight going on in her room; a girl was crying in the corner. A man was ranting as he cried, not embarrassed of his actions. "You can't leave me!" he yelled,

wiping the tears from his eyes. "I will not let you. Dear, I love you more than anything."

Rory looked to the girl who was being hoisted up and away from a chest of drawers. "You love me, let me go!" She sat, tears wildly flying from her own eyes.

"I can not!"

Rory was shocked as she stared into the depths of the pure, innocent blue orbs. The eyes matched her own, a remarkable similarity. "You will." She said as she stormed down the staircase and out the door. The thick door slammed, bringing Rory to reality.

She was standing just outside the door, looking back at it. Her mind was reeling, she had so many questions for herself. Reaching out for the doorknob to let herself back inside, she touched a solid chest reliving the events of earlier that day. "Tristan?" she questioned as she started into his dark blue eyes once again.

"What are you doing out here?" he asked her, as she grew less stable and rested more of her weight on the hand touching his chest.

He noticed this and caught her as she fainted into his embrace.

Awaking, she had something of a headache. Taking her hand, Tristan handed her an aspirin. He had read her mind and she wasn't sure how he had, all she knew was that she was thankful that he was there. "Thanks," she mumbled, grabbed the water from his hand, and downed the small tablets.

"No problem," he whispered back at her.

"How did you know?" she asked as she began to feel better.

"Girl eyes, they tend to hypnotize," was the simple reply that he gave.

"What?" she questioned but quickly dismissed her own question. "Were you in my room? How did I get down here?" Pushing him away from her with the intention of getting up, but instead falling back into his arms.

He gently pushed her back down on to the bed where she lay still. She didn't recognize the room as the guestroom, which she'd stayed in, but a less controlled and homier room. There was music playing in the background, but she was not really able to make out the rhythm, still she heard the lyrics. Eve 6 was playing. She commended the choice in the depths of her own mind.

"It's haunted you know." he commented, out of nowhere.

"What is haunted?"

He gestured to his room, then to the door, then he simply said, "This place."

Her head thought this idea over for a moment. Not being overly imaginative, she gave him a look and asked why he and his grandfather would stay in a haunted house. She didn't actually believe it was haunted but still questioned him as to why. "Why do you think it is so?"

"I can tell you what you dreamt of, as you slept walk. I can also tell you the story of the people, I can't tell you why it is haunted, but you can guess." He looked very un-Tristan like. He seemed scared and a lot less confident then his usual self.

About to ask him again, why he and his grandfather would stay in house that was haunted, she was stalled as he broke into the story of it all.

"She left him." she said and then elaborated. "She told him she hated him and could never forgive him for what he'd done. He was sad and stuff, so he killed himself," he told her, giving very little information.

"Is that all?" she asked with a huff and discarded the information.

"It is enough," he remarked, "It is all I know. It is all my Grandfather would tell me, but it was enough to make me understand."

"Understand, what?"

"I don't sleep at night in this house. All I know is when I do, I see her. I see what she did to him. I see how she broke him."

"How do you know she did it?" Rory questioned, being sucked into the story.

"Because I see her eyes, and they say it all," he told her.

PP3:Sweet sin

"I can't get this shit out of my head!" Tristan began to storm, moments after acting like a scared little boy. He didn't understand what was going on and why it was so much stronger since Rory had arrived. He was not a whiny little child who often talked about ghost stories. He was a grown man, who was confidant and just becoming a real man who could be respected.

Ever since he had first been invited to stay with his Grandfather in his summer home, Tristan had gotten an eerie feeling. Truth was that the feeling was not a bad feeling but more of a friendly and welcoming feeling. Tristan had not gotten that sensation much in his life and ergo the eerieness of it all.

The feeling had been amplified since actually coming to the estate. After setting foot in Ireland, he had felt as if he had just gotten home from a long trip. Then after meeting Rory in very home, he had begun to feel something like a pang.

It was not as if he had been thinking about Rory his every waking moment. He did have girlfriends, and truthfully Rory was anything but on his mind. Thinking back at it, as he sat on the edge of his king-sized bed and watched Rory slowly come out of her headache, he wondered if he had tried to not think about her.

She began to sit up and swinging her feet over the bed, she lost balanced and ended up in his lap. He gave her a smirk and carelessly asked her if she wanted to spend the night. Rory straightened herself with Tristan's help and lied back in his bed, "I'd rather swallow my pride."

"Oh, and we know Rory Gilmore would never do such a thing," He said back to her in a huff with a bit of disappointment disguised in his voice.

Rory was not dumb, and she told herself this, as she looked him up and down. Within the short few hours they had spent under the same roof, she had already characterized and analyzed him. She knew that underneath his huffy attitude, snide remarks and thoughtlessness, he was just any other teenage boy.

He was out of high school and thought he was king of the world. But as she thought this, she knew that this was Tristan. Tristan had never been just any teenage boy; he had been a young adult since puberty, maybe before. Rory knew some things, some characteristics of him, but she did not know him. At least not yet.

Yawning and swallowing hard, Rory almost made a show of her swallowing. Looking at him, she smiled and said to him, "You obviously do not know Rory Gilmore."

A gleam was in his eye as he looked at her and caught hold of her iced over blue orbs. She felt as if she was drowning. His eyes twirled with mischief as he got on to his knee on the bed. He bang to slowly crawl over to her.

His hips moved from side to side, it was almost sensual but also predatory. He looked like a graceful lion just seen by his prey. She also felt like prey for she could not move, but also did not want too. She just stared at him as he got closer and closer to her. Thighs were brushing, his on hers. She felt a pool of lust growing in her stomach. Everything he did heightened the sensation that was growing inside her. It made her every fiber burn a little hotter, grow a little brighter, and she liked it.

He was so close that she swore she felt his heart beat pounding through his chest. She knew that she felt his breath on her neck, she was certain she felt his hand in her hair and his legs between hers. She was melting and when his gaze left hers, and his hand moved her hair aside and away from her ear, she was burning. She felt his breath ever so lightly graze her ear. She felt the moisture it held and wondered the things it would say. "Tell me all about her," he breathed at her. "I'm very interested," he told her.

Rory looked up and around the room. She heard the music and heard him breathing ever so lightly, she wanted something to happen, and if she did not stop it, she knew it would. She wanted it, but was she sure she needed it? She felt a light, almost undetectable kiss behind her ear and she pushed him away.

Tristan was not surprised about this. He had figured that the chances of her going along with it were not in his favor. As he lied back on the other half of the bed, he heard her begin a story. "Well," she started and continued with a breath, "It all started with a girl, and the boy who got her pregnant." She continued and he moved closer. He told himself was purely to get comfortable, but when his head found her stomach as a pillow, he knew not to kid himself. "And miraculously nine months later, there I was."

They began to get into a something of a routine after this. She would spread her fingers through his golden tresses; he'd rub his fingers in light circles and other patterns over her thigh, and do this as she all while she talked about her life. She told him, about her mother and her father, about her grandparents and her fathers' parents. She told him about the crazy townspeople, about Stars Hollow and everything else of her life.

Every time he wanted to ask a question or comment on her statement, he'd open his eyes and look into hers. Sometimes he'd say something snide and sometimes he'd say something so heartfelt, she'd question if it were really him. The whole scene was so strange and so out of character for him that it was almost in 'character'. Every thing was just natural.