A/N: In this chapter, Rory is at a party on Friday night, as opposed to the usual Friday night dinners that she usually has with her grandparents, so, for the purpose of this story, her grandparents convinced Rory to go with them.

Chapter 10: Drink Away all the Pain

Friday afternoon, Chilton hallway

It had been a week since Tristan had heard Rory talking to Paris, but he was reluctant, scared, to try to talk to her. He didn't know that he had made her feel that way, that he had caused her so much pain. It was enough to make him feel a similar twitch in his heart every time he saw her walking down the hallway or sitting in class.

He took in a deep breath and shook his hands as if trying to force some courage into his body. He took small, but confident steps towards Rory's locker, where she stood, staring inside trying to figure out which books she need to take home. "Rory?" He saw her body tense and how she shut her eyes; she didn't say anything, but continued to rifle through her locker, the only thing she found that she could do in the situation. "Rory?" he tried again.

She took in a deep breath then slammed her locker shut, lifting up her backpack and slinging it over her shoulders as she made her way over to the exit.

Tristan followed her outside and stopped her as soon as the were near the bus. "Rory, just please listen to me."

Rory stopped in her steps and looked reluctant to turn around, but did, meeting his sorrow-filled eyes. "Tristan…I can't, okay? Just leave me alone." She turned once again, trying to escape him, but his grasp on her arm only tightened.

"Rory, I'm trying to explain myself, okay? Don't just brush me off as if I'm nothing!"

She glared at him and jerked her arm back. "Don't you dare talk to me like that! And how can you even accuse me of 'brushing you off'? This is why I don't want to talk to you, Tristan! You can be such a jerk!" She stomped off onto the bus, but heard Tristan yell something else. "You're brushing me off now!" She paused on the third step of the bus, but held her head high and continued on her way in. There was no way she was going to let him know that he getting to her.

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Friday evening, socialite party in Hartford

Another party. She hated coming to these, but her grandparents had insisted she had come. "It won't hurt you to expand your social horizons, Rory," her grandmother told her. She smiled and nodded every once in a while, not really caring to get to know anymore stuck-up people. She nearly blew up at them when they came up to her an hour into the party, telling her that they needed to get home for some 'important reason'. She wanted to leave with them, but they just told her that they already asked someone to take her home - Tristan. She nearly winced at the name. Of course it was Tristan. If it wasn't Tristan, then the world would have failed at making her life a complete disaster. She plastered on the nicest smile she could and said goodbye to them.

A half hour later, she walked into a room, which, she didn't know, but it was good enough to hide in from all the 'Ha ha, I'm better than you are' fake smiles. She was about to take a seat when she groaned out loud. "Sorry, I'll leave."

He scoffed, anger oozing out. "You can't even stand to be in the same room as me now?"

She shut her eyes to try to remain composed and let out a deep breath as she moved toward the door.

"And now you're not talking to me. That's real mature, Rory."

She turned around, anger and bitterness etched all over her face. "What the hell do you want from me, Tristan?!"

"You! I want you!" he screamed, not really caring now if she knew all that he felt about her.

"You did have me," she said, her voice snipped, but strong.

"No, I didn't!" he yelled out, softening as he said the next part. "Not all of you."

"What do you mean?"

"I want to be the one you love, the one to tell you 'I love you', the one to hold you…the one to touch you." His voice grew softer with every word he spoke. The silence was slowly killing him and he couldn't take it anymore. He rose his eyes to her, silently willing her to say something to him, anything. But she didn't; she kept her eyes to the ground, almost as if she were afraid to even look at him, disgusted even. He left after shaking his head in disbelief. The sound of the door slamming made her wince and start to cry.

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She was so mad now, mad at Tristan for not understanding that she needed time to think, to process what he told her, and she was mad at herself for not being able to tell him what she had felt for so long now. But, of course, she had to be afraid, afraid of what his answer would be, his response to what she wanted to say to him. She paced the room, trying to push away the knowing feeling in her stomach that made her want to pull her hair out. That's when she saw it - the liquor cabinet. She smiled bitterly to herself. She slowly walked towards it, afraid that if she were to move any faster, her sensible side would come back. She kneeled down in front of it and opened the doors. She laughed again at how the people who throw these kinds of parties just left alcohol out in the open for anyone to take; well, not necessarily 'out in the open', but that was just a minor technicality that Rory saw past. She took out a bottle, not even bothering to look at the label to see what she got. "Liquor's liquor, right?" she asked herself. She opened the bottled and took a big gulp. She started to cough loudly, violently, but she didn't care. She was so set against feeling the hurt that had come from earlier that she welcomed this different kind of pain. After her coughs subsided, she took another drink and another and another…

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Tristan was staring at the door. He hadn't taken his eyes of it for the past hour. She was still in there. He wanted to slap himself at how much he cared for Rory, how he would do anything for her.

He excused himself from the people who were talking to him, already forgetting every word that was said. He paused when he got to the door, trying to figure out if he should even go in. He shook his head, as if to try to get some reasonable thoughts into his mind. After he opened the door, he instantly wished that he never left her alone in the first place. "Rory, what are you doing?!" He grabbed the now-empty bottle from her hand and threw it behind him, not caring if it broke.

"Getting drunk, what else does it look like?" She pushed him away as best she could while trying to get up.

He paused, not liking the sight. "Why?"

She laughed bitterly, a laugh that she had come so accustomed to in the past 24 hours. "You," was all she said as she tried to get to the door.

His heart clenched at her response. It figures that he would be the one to make her do something so stupid, something that she wouldn't even consider doing if she had never met him. "Come on," he started while taking a hold of her arm, "I'll take you to my place."

She jerked her arm away aggressively, her body instantly slamming back against the door. "Like hell you will!"

"Rory," he started, trying to stay calm, "you're drunk. Do you really want to go home, only to have your mom see you like this?"

She was about to protest, but realized how right he was. Even though she was in emotional hell, there was no reason to drag her mom into such an ugly mess. "Fine."

He grabbed her arm once more, walking out the back way, avoiding all possibilities of any gossipers finding Rory in the state she was. Once they reached his car, he sat Rory down in the passenger seat and drove to his house.

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"Come on, Tristan…you know you want to." Rory waved the bottle of alcohol in front of his face.

After sitting Rory down on the couch in his living room, he went upstairs to his room to change. When he came back down, he saw that Rory had somehow found the liquor cabinet. "No, Rory," he said sternly, "I'm not going to drink, and neither should you." He tried to grab the bottle from her hand, but failed.

She smiled smugly at him. "Why not? Are you afraid of what you're going to do if you do take a drink?" She paused, a feeling of triumph flowing through her body as the look of uneasiness came across his face. "I knew you wouldn't be able to control yourself around me."

He looked at her with shock, almost with hatred. He snatched the bottle from her grasp, taking a long drink from it. Damn pride.

She smiled again and grabbed another bottle. "That wasn't so hard, now was it?"

He looked at her again, eyes narrowed. He grabbed the bottle from her hands, drinking all he could. She knew he wouldn't be able to stop after he took just one sip. After he had finished half of the bottle, she pulled him up, leading him up the stairs to his room.

Once she shut the door, Tristan collapsed on the bed. "What are we doing up here, Rory?" he groaned while holding his hands up to his head.

"Well," she moved over to him, straddling him, as he tried unsuccessfully to get her off of him, "I thought it would be fun if we did this…" She moved down and started to kiss and suck at his neck.

"Rory, stop." His resolve quickly disappeared as he moaned at her actions.

"I don't think you want me to stop." With that said, she kissed his lips, attacking furiously as if that were the last moment she would ever be close to him. Their clothes were quickly shed as they found their way underneath the covers.