Disclaimer: I don't own Gilmore girls. If I did, why would I be sitting here writing this?
a/n: thank you sooooooooooooo much for all the reviews!!!! I love you guys more than you could ever understand. Its always so nice to end off a rotten week by opening an inbox full of reviews! You guys totally turned me week from being crappy to happy! Ha ha, I'm such a loser. I'll just get on with the story…
***chapter 3: the London flat***
Rory hung up the phone and searched frantically for her keys. She had just gotten a call from The New York Times, and she was hired as the new foreign correspondent. She was more excited than she had been in months, and she knew exactly who she wanted to tell first, Tristan.
They had been hanging out together everyday for almost two weeks, sitting at coffee houses, taking walks, and once and while Tristan would accompany Rory on job interviews. Driving the now familiar route to his house, she felt it was only natural to share her news with him.
"Hi Rory," the maid Linda said when she answered the door. "Tristan is up in his room. Just go on up."
"Thanks Linda," she said. Rory hurried across the grand entrance hall and through several rooms until she reached the back stairway. For some reason she was more comfortable going up the back way like Tristan, instead of the ornate staircase that was meant for guests.
"Guess what," Rory said excitedly, bursting into Tristan's room without knocking. He was sitting on his bed, watching TV. He jumped, startled by the sound of her voice.
"God Mare. You scared me."
"I got the job!"
"Which one?"
"For The New York Times! They're flying me to England tomorrow afternoon. First class! I've never flown first class before! Do they really have hot towels and chocolate chip cookies?"
Tristan smiled and pulled Rory into his arms for a hug. "England, huh? Pretty convenient actually."
"Why?" she asked, pulling away so that she could look at him.
"Well, my dad is making me go with him to Europe next week for business. Don't ask me how he got me to agree, he just used his twisted mind games. Anyway, we're scheduled to be in London for more than a month. If I call the airlines, I could book a flight on your plane and leave a few days earlier than my dad. Do you have any idea where you're staying?"
"They said they would put me up in a hotel," Rory answered.
"Perfect, you can come stay with us. We own a small flat in London."
"Really? You wouldn't mind if I stayed with you?"
"Nope, I'd love it actually."
Rory smiled. 'This day is getting better and better,' she thought.
*****
Rory kicked off her shoes once they got in the cab, completely exhausted. Though she had flown to Europe several times with her mother, this trip seemed extra tiring. But Rory had loved every minute of it, starting from the limousine ride to the airport.
To her surprise, a limo had pulled up to her Stars Hollow house, just as she had been completing her good-byes to all the people gathered there. Tristan got out, and with a smile told her that her first trip on a first class flight wouldn't be complete without arriving to the airport in style. So with a final hug and kiss to her mom, Rory rode off into the sunset with her 'fiancé.'
The plane ride had been better than she had expected. She got an unlimited supply of hot towels, enough chocolate chip cookies to make her almost sick, and to top it off there was an individual TV/DVD player located on the back of the chair in front of her. She was completely content, watching TV with Tristan by her side.
She was still amazed that after all the time they had spent together, the conversation never ended or grew forced. Sometimes they would linger off into silence, but it was a comfortable silence, not the least bit awkward. Rory and Tristan found each other to be great company.
But despite the comfortable trip, the long flight had drained her. Tired and rather sore from sitting still for numerous hours, Rory kicked off her shoes the second she sat down in the taxi.
"You are amazing," Tristan said, sliding in next to her.
"Why do you say that?"
"You just take your shoes off wherever you please. Don't you think it's weird?"
"Weird?" she asked. "Do my feet smell? Because if they do I'll put my shoes back on."
"No, they don't smell," Tristan answered, smiling. "I just have this thing with my feet. I don't like taking my shoes off where other people's feet have been. Especially people I don't know."
"That makes sense," Rory replied, wiggling her toes. "But all the same, I like the freedom. And why didn't we take the limo, mister? I could really go for the space."
"Ah, welcome to London, love," Tristan answered in a British accent. "We live a more simple life over here."
"Please clarify."
"Smaller house, smaller cars, smaller stuff."
"So by smaller house you mean only fifteen bedrooms instead of twenty-two?"
Tristan shook his head despairingly. "I don't have twenty-two bedrooms in my house. But yes, it is much, much smaller than anything you could imagine a Dugrey living in."
And he was right. When they pulled up in front of a small flat in the middle of a crowded row of houses, Rory was convinced they had stopped at the wrong place. But when Tristan got out of the car and reached for her hand, she realized he had been right.
It was a small house even to the average person. With only two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room and a kitchen, it was more like an apartment than an actual house. The rooms were long and narrow, the ceiling low. Rory felt a bit claustrophobic in the small space.
"This is it," Tristan said, crossing the small living room and turning on the lights.
"It's so small," Rory said, in complete shock.
"You don't like it? We can always stay in a hotel."
Rory looked around in awe. The room was painted in a rich crème color, with an ivy-stenciled border around the wall. Everywhere she looked there were plants, mixtures of fresh cut flowers and age-old ivy that had grown up a trellis located on one of the shorter walls. It was like standing in a greenhouse, the plants casting a beautiful fragrance.
"No, it's beautiful," she replied, touching a leaf of ivy carefully.
"Unique room, isn't it?" Tristan asked, also seeming to be captured in the surroundings. "My mom is mostly the only one to use this house. It's been in her family for generations. She loves plants, and since she spends the a lot of time here, everyone lets her do her own thing regarding the decorating. She loves this house more than any of our larger properties, and I understand why. It's just kind of enchanting, you know?"
The clock that had been ticking quietly in the background suddenly chimed ten times.
"Well, I guess we should be getting to bed," Tristan said, picking up the suitcases and walking towards the stairs. Rory reluctantly followed him, the spell the room had cast upon her broken.
He led the way up the narrow staircase and stopped at the top landing. "Well, there's my parent's bedroom to the left, the bathroom in the middle, and over here to the right is where we'll be staying." He opened the third door and revealed another long skinny room, this time decorated in a sports theme. Everywhere baseball bats, gloves, footballs, and tennis rackets surrounded Rory. Even the queen-sized bed had a comforter with a basketball theme.
"Wow," Rory said, a bit overwhelmed by the sports memorabilia.
"I know, a bit intense, isn't it? My brother was the biggest athlete when he was a kid, and he grew up to be the biggest jock. I guess Mom hasn't changed the room since we were kids."
"So your brother used to sleep in here. Where did you sleep? There's only one other bedroom and only one bed."
"I left the indoors for my prissy brother and chose to be a cowboy instead," he answered. "I was the camping kind of guy. We always used to be here in the summertime, so I had a tent permanently set up in the backyard, and I slept in it every night. Well, I guess that brings us to the sleeping arrangements. I can sleep on the couch until Dad comes, but if we're supposed to act engaged he won't accept me being downstairs. There's sleeping bags in the closet. Do you want me to take the floor? You can have the bed."
Rory looked at the bed and then back at Tristan. "Honestly Tris," she said playfully. "I'm not that much of a bed hog."
Tristan smiled back at her.
That night as Rory slept, Tristan had to fight the sudden urge to wrap his arms around her. But he knew better. To do so would mean turning the page of their friendship, developing it into something more. And even though he suddenly found himself longing for that, Tristan knew Rory. He knew he had to wait until she was ready. But how long would that be?
a/n: FYI, I don't live in England, and I've never been there or to Europe at all for that matter. I am just warning you now that I will probably get a lot of the stuff wrong, scenery, names of places, all that stuff. So feel free to correct me on my mistakes or just give me random little tid bits of information. Its all welcomed! Thanks so much!
