"So much for getting out of here in a half hour. You've been assigned to talk me into transferring to Yale. That'll take a lot longer than a half hour."

"Really? I bet I could do it in five minutes."

"You don't even know what I am majoring in."

"Oh, I wouldn't worry about that. You can probably find whatever it is at Yale."

Tristan smiled, "Wow, I hope you aren't pre-law. You aren't very persuasive."

"Okay, so what are you majoring in?"

"Don't want to guess?"

"Tristan, come on. And no, I'm not pre-law. I'm in journalism."

"Ah, I should have known."

"I don't really have to guess, do I? Fine. You are majoring in women's studies."

"Uh, no. Though I could probably already have my degree in that," Tristan smirked.

"Okay, side note, I'm willing to bet what you really know about women would fit on the head of a pin."

"Ouch."

"Sorry. You may have been with girls, at least when I knew you, but you didn't seem to know much about them."

"Okay, I'll give you that. When I knew you, that was true."

Now she was even more intrigued. Damn him.

"Physical education."

"You've been looking at my muscular physique, eh? Yes, I'm built, but no, not my major."

"Okay, how many guesses do I get?"

"Three. You've one left."

"What happens if I don't guess it right?"

"You won't win the prize."

"Ooh, prizes! Well, now I'm excited. Let's see." Rory narrowed her eyes and stared at Tristan as if she were trying to look into his brain. For the life of her, she couldn't remember him ever mentioning future aspirations, at least not past that next Friday night's plans. She remembered Dean calling him 'the accountant', but she guessed that wouldn't even go over well as a joke.

"Okay, let's see. Engineering?"

"Ehhnn! Sorry, three strikes, you're out."

"No prize?"

"No prize."

"So, come on. Tell me."

"Forensic psychology."

"Really?"

"Yep. Now tell me about the excellent psychology department at Yale."

"Something tells me someone already has."

"Do you want the list of people who've ranted at me?"

"So that isn't the approach to take with you. Oooh, I know what would do it. Obviously something you haven't considered before!"

"And what, pray tell, would that be?"

"I'm at Yale."

"And?"

"What do you mean, and? If you transferred to Yale, you could see me more."

'Think fast, Dugrey, is she serious?' Tristan figured she was being silly, or the cold air was getting to her—hell, maybe she was drunk.

"Yeah, cause I'm transferring schools so you can pick on me? Gee, that sounds like fun."

"I don't pick on you. I defend myself from your insults of me."

"Are you sure you'd want me at Yale? I mean, that just means more competition—you may not make valedictorian this time around."

"Very funny. Besides, I said I'd try to talk you into it. Not succeed. I might have been more successful if I'd gotten that prize."

"Maybe if you're good, I'll give it to you later."

Rory smiled as she felt the all too familiar blush rise up in her cheeks. A hint of the old innuendo was in his voice. As much as she like the seemingly more mature Tristan, she had to admit she always liked it when he so blatantly flirted with her.

At this point he led her back into the house, through the crowd into what appeared to be a library. He asked if she'd like a drink, and he went off in search of refreshments. Rory stayed behind and perused the shelves. Mainly first editions were housed in the room, and he had an amazing collection.

"If you see something you like, I'm sure I could get Grandfather to lend you something," Tristan commented as he handed her a drink.

"No, it's just, it's an amazing collection. I've read most of these before."

"Right. You always have a book with you."

"Yeah. So, can I ask you a question?"

"Sure."

"Why did you email me?"

"Well, when I got the email to Paris from you, I thought since I had your email address I'd see how you were doing."

"But why now? I mean, you've been in contact with Paris all this time, you must have known we lived together. You could have contacted me before."

"I didn't figure you would have wanted me to."

"Why not?"

"Well, you were never very encouraging before."

"I'm sorry you felt that way. I've thought about you, wondered how you were, the past couple of years."

"Why didn't you contact me, then?"

"I, I thought about it, but I had no idea how to go about it."

"But you said you know I'd kept in contact with Paris."

"I just found that out after you'd emailed me. She just told me."

"She never mentioned me to you?"

"No. I mean, Tristan, she was pissed when you left that night—it never occurred to me that you'd be thrown together because of your families."

"And I thought you were smart."

"Haha. I just, I'm glad you emailed me."

"Me too."

They were standing just inches away from each other at this point. She looked up into his eyes, wondering if he was thinking what she was thinking. She felt frozen in place, unable to move from the spot she was in. With every breath, she willed him closer to her. Finally, after what seemed like hours but was probably just seconds, he closed the gap between them. He placed his hand at the nape of her neck and gently pressed his lips to hers. She responded, kissing him sweetly.

When he pulled away, she smiled. He grazed his hand down her neck, to her shoulder and lightly down her arm. Her skin felt like he as tracing a fire trail, as the nerves ignited at his touch. She was grinning like an idiot, but at least she wasn't alone. He was smiling too.

"But you know there's one obvious drawback to Yale. Paris is there."

"Tell me about it. She's my roommate. And even though we get along better, well, it's been interesting to say the least."

"What's she been up to? She's been really light on details lately."

"Well, she's never around. Do you know about her boyfriend?"

"Jamie?"

"Uh, no. This one's a professor."

"Whoa. Stop it, you're killing me! Paris and a professor?"

"Yeah—he's our grandfather's age!"

"Seriously, you're creeping me out."

"Well, they broke up last week, but she's in New York with him right now. I just hope she comes to her senses. I'm thinking of setting her up with someone. Someone our age."

"Please don't say me."

Rory smiled. 'Not after that kiss, mister,' she thought to herself.

"No, I had someone else in mind. I'll let you know how that goes."

Just then, Emily came into the room.

"Oh, Rory, good. We're leaving now, it's getting late. Good evening, Tristan, was it?"

"Yes, ma'am. Goodnight. And good night to you, Rory."

"Night, Tristan. I'll email you."

She smiled and he nodded. With that, she followed her grandmother out of the room, and out of his sight. He leaned back against the bookshelves and sighed with contentment.

Later that evening, after she'd finally returned home, she found Lorelai on the couch. The television was on, but Lorelai was attempting to read a book.

"Mom, what are you doing?"

"Reading."

"Why is the television on?"

"Well, it was too quiet. I couldn't concentrate."

"So you can read better now?"

"No, the television is too distracting. So how was your day?"

"It was fine."

"You look way too happy for it to have just been 'fine'. Spill."

"He kissed me."

"Tristan? Hot snooty boy?"

"Mom! He's not snooty. He is pretty hot, though."

"My, my! So coffee was good. How was the grandparents' thing?"

"Actually, that's where he kissed me."

"How is that possible?"

"They took me to Tristan's grandfather's birthday party."

"Get out! They never took me to hot guy's grandfather's birthday parties!"

"Well, they took me to one. I was all ready to leave, and bam, there he was. We started talking, and then I just really wanted him to kiss me, then he did. It was perfect."

"I miss those moments."

"Don't you have them with Jason?"

"We've been together a few months, hun, the newness is gone."

"Aww, sad."

"Yeah, so I have to live vicariously."

"I see."

"So what is with you guys now?"

"I don't know. He goes to school in North Carolina, so we're obviously not dating. I told him I'd email him."

"What every man wants to hear from the girl he just kissed."

"Thanks mom, you're helpful."

"Well!"

"Anyways, I'll continue to email him and we'll see what happens. His family is trying to get him to transfer to Yale, which I would like, but he seems pretty set against it."

"I'm sorry, Rory. But you never know what will happen."

"I know. I'll see you in the morning."

"Night."

AN: Will Rory see Tristan again? Is Paris stupid enough to go back to Asher? And who is the mystery boy Rory wants to set her up with? Read on, all will be revealed. I promise I know where I'm going, and hopefully it won't be disappointing. Hehehe. I'll update as soon as I can, I promise. Keep those reviews coming!