CHAPTER 7
Rory felt like a piano has been dropped over her head. She hated it. She hated hangovers and what it stood for: stupidity, irresponsibility and childish behavior. Everything that she swore she would remember the last time she got drunk. Unfortunately, that cardinal rule was quickly forgotten the moment she got over her last headache.
Thinking was too much of a daunting task for her at that moment. Her eyes felt gritty. Her throat felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls. She raised her head off the pillows. A very luxurious set of sheets covered her and her flannel covered body. She does not remember how she got into her favorite pair of pajamas; not that she minded being in them. The dancing sheep and growing numbers were just an added bonus.
However, that was the least of her surprises.
Her throbbing head swiveled to her right. Beside her laid a slumbering Tristin, dressed in a white muscle shirt and a pair of red boxer-briefs. At the foot of the bed was a sleeping Graham, dressed only in a pair of orange shorts. Great; a pajama party that she does not even remembers attending.
Rory tried to get up from under the sheets as carefully as she could without waking up the cousins. Tristin rolled on to his side, snoring lightly. Graham remained unfazed. She tried to get her balance, grabbing any sturdy surface that she can hold on to. She opened every door in that room until she found the bathroom.
The sun-filled bathroom tried to cheer Rory up but she just scowled at the yellow tile and marble that greeted her. She headed for the sink. She made a face at her reflection; baggy eyed and full of streaked make up. She made a mental note that she could be an extra in movies as a junkie if the journalism thing didn't pan out.
She washed her face clean and drank water. At first a glass, then two and then three. As she drank the water, her pounding headache was reduced to dull rhythmic thumps. She picked up a tube of toothpaste, slathered it on to her finger and simulated toothbrush cleaning. Within minutes, she felt better than when she first got up.
It didn't look like Graham or Tristin moved since she exited the room. Strangely, she didn't want to know how they ended up on her bed.
She stared at her opened suitcase. She remembered packing it neatly for the trip. Now her underwear conspired with her shirts and her shorts. She grimaced. Her head swiveled to the side and noticed the red blinking light on her cell phone. She groaned. She didn't want to listen to her voicemail, fearing it was Dean again. Instead, she speed dialed her mom.
"Good morning sunshine. How was your evening?" Lorelai's chipper voice greeted her.
"Do you have to be so loud?" Rory whispered into the receiver.
"Oh my God, is my daughter drunk?" Lorelai asked dropping her voice several notches lower.
"I don't know if I still am but I think I was last night," Rory whispered back.
"You don't know? Honey, either you do or you don't have one. What kind of party did the Sullivans throw?" Lorelai's voice got to the point of panic.
"They haven't had the party yet. The guys and I played a few air hockey rounds, drank a little and I think we watched a movie," Rory mumbled.
"Who's this 'we', white woman?" Lorelai inquired.
"Me, Graham and Tristin," Rory clarified.
"Tristin? How'd Tristin end up there?" Lorelai asked.
"It's so Twilight Zone-y, mom. Tristin and Graham are cousins. Can you believe that? It's like the 'Stepford Wives' only they're just from the same stock, not attitude," Rory explained.
"Wow. Who would've thunk, huh? Won't it be creepy if you found out that you're somehow related to them, too? More incest in the Gilmore-Gilmore bloodline. At least, the boys have two different last names involved there," Lorelai plotted.
"Mom, did you have to bring that up? I made sure that I would never, ever remember that I am a product of in-breeding," Rory mused.
"Well, then that limits our conversations about the possibilities of us making a mockery of our genetic make-up. You know, webbed toes, the third eye, finding out Charo is actually a Gilmore," Lorelai joked.
"Mom," Rory said in a singsong voice.
"Well, what are you going to do about the hangover?" Lorelai asked.
"I don't know," Rory pondered, "I'm still deliberating between food and sleep. Mister Sandman is calling but I think Freddy Kruger is playing bass on my brain. The appealing thought of sugar and caffeine though is starting to warm me over."
"Food!" Graham called out from the bed.
Tristin immediately kicked Graham for his comment and rolled over to his stomach. "Shut up!" he scolded.
"Was that male voices I heard there?" Lorelai asked.
"Yes. I think my hosts are starting to rise from the dead. But I feel another headache coming on," Rory fibbed.
"Ooh, you're not going to get off that easily," Lorelai said.
"Oh yes I can," Rory responded closing her clamshell cell phone before her mom could squeeze in another word.
"Rory," Graham mumbled from the bed, "My hangover needs curing. Wanna go on a scavenger food hunt? I know mine's cold pizza."
"Mine's macaroni and cheese. But I'd settle for a couple of aspirins right now," Rory said, audibly enough for Graham to hear.
Graham sat up from the corner of the bed and scratched his head. He looked behind him and stared back at Rory. "Should we wake up Sleeping Beauty?" Graham asked.
Tristin found Graham's morning jabs annoying. He took the pillow beside him and threw it at Graham. Tristin swore and took the bed sheet and wrapped it around his waist. Right now, he just wanted to be left alone.
Rory approached the bed and was about to touch Tristin when Graham stopped her.
"You might not want to do that," Graham suggested.
Rory was perplexed and looked at Graham. Tristin raised his head from under the pillow. He looked at her and then at Graham. Then, Tristin groaned and buried his head again in the pillow.
"What's wrong with you?" Rory asked.
"Graham, can you explain to her...," Tristin muffled as Graham interrupted him.
"He's got morning woody," Graham responded matter-of-factly.
Rory blushed.
"Ew, too much information," Rory declared. Desperate to cover up her ignorance, Rory asked Graham, "Why don't you have one?" She knew that was not the question she wanted to ask.
"Because I'm too hung over and apparently the Lothario isn't," Graham responded.
Rory just rolled her eyes and headed back to the bathroom taking with her a change of clothes.
Tristin did not want to wake up. He was having too much of a great dream. He wanted the fiction in his head become a dream come true.
He remembered last night's affairs graphically; the meeting, the meal, the giggling, the game playing. Everything was surreal. Nothing made him happier than seeing the uninhibited Rory emerge.
She was different. Maybe even amusing. She was out of the ordinary and very different from the uptight Rory he knew all this time.
He remembered Rory roaming aimlessly when they reached the main level of the house. When they got to the Y stairwell, Rory wandered to the right, remembering the Carmichael warning. Graham went to the left to retrieve her things. She went up the stairs cautiously; one hand on the banister, the other on her beer bottle. Once she got to the top of the stairwell, she put the empty bottle down on the top stair.
"Hello?" Rory called out as she opened the door to a bedroom. "Whose room is this?" Rory asked.
"It's Graham's," Tristin said, pulling the door shut after she stuck her head into the room.
"Hmm, he's messy. Nice guy but messy," she commented as she crossed the hallway and opened the door catty-corner to Graham's room.
"Now, whose room is this?" Rory asked accidentally stumbling into it.
"Mine," Tristin mentioned.
Rory walked into the room and noticed how neat and proper everything was. She opened drawers and lightly touched his sheets.
"I've been thinking," Rory expressed in her slurred speech, "how I missed you after I left."
"You did?" Tristin inquired, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Yeah, I did... And I was hungry, too!" Rory mentioned. "I wanted some pizza... You think you can make it again for me when we become friends again?" she pleaded.
Tristin inched towards Rory until he could smell the scent of her perfume. "We've never been enemies."
"But we've never been friends, either," Rory whispered.
He stroked her cheek. His eyes gazed at hers. "Why do you think that?"
"Because you think I'm a goody two shoes?" she asked.
He chortled.
"You know, you surprise me. Just when I thought I've pegged you, you change... like a chameleon," Rory explained.
"And you're not?" Tristin asked her.
"I don't think I am not a chameleon. I think I'm vanilla as vanilla can be," Rory mumbled.
"Liar," Tristin challenged. He rested his hands on her hips. His thumb traced lazy circles on the thin fabric of her shirt. Rory lowered her eyes and stared at her feet. "You are the most enigmatic person I've ever met," he pointed out. "You're smart, funny and crazy. When you let your hair down, you are down right sexy."
He lifted a finger to her cheek and stroked the soft skin with his forefinger. She moaned. She closed her eyes as she felt him touch her. Her eyes opened and stared at his in the moon-bathed room.
"Kiss me," she whispered.
"What?" Tristin asked.
"Kiss me, like when we were at the falls. I liked that," Rory pleaded.
Tristin didn't need further encouragement. His mouth swooped down on hers. He kissed her with such fiery passion; he knew he bruised her lips. But that didn't seem to mind Rory. She nibbled on his lower lip. He growled. She was getting him aroused. He held her tight against him. Their tongues dueled. Their breaths mingled. He was getting turned on with the exotic taste only Rory had with the taste of malt on their tongues. He got light headed when Rory's hand moved from his waist to the front of his jeans, fumbling to unbuckle his belt. He lifted her shirt to expose her waist to the night air and his roving hands.
"Guys, where are you at?" Graham called out from the hallway.
"Damn," Tristin cursed as he tore his lips away from Rory's. She whimpered. He sighed. "We're here!" he hollered at his cousin.
Seconds later, Graham's head poked through the doorway.
"Why didn't you go into the room?" Graham asked. "Did the bulb burn out again?"
"I didn't know if you wanted her across from my room or yours?" Tristin rationalized, eluding his cousin's question.
"Rory, do you mind having the room across from Tristin's?" Graham questioned.
"Not at all," Rory responded, covering her swollen, kissed lips.
Tristin walked out of the room, Rory trailing him.
Rory's room was very similar to Tristin's. The king sized bed laid lengthwise against the wall just across the entertainment unit. The wall paneling was tastefully done in white with blue pinstripe trimming. The room was once Tristin's favorite room. The wall panels hid the closets and the bathroom. The bay window that was across the doorway boasted of the Sullivan garden that he used to play cops and robbers with the Catskill kids and Graham. It was a room he was glad Rory slumbered in.
"Wow," Rory mouthed.
"Here's your room," Graham announced as he dropped her suitcase and knapsack on the floor. "Where's your video tape?"
Rory surrendered the tape to Graham. He pushed play and slid to the end of the bed. Tristin got comfortable on the right side of the bed, propping a pillow behind him. Rory jumped on the bed.
The opening credits to the movie flashed on the screen. Three seconds into it, Rory screeched.
"Stop the movie. We can't watch 'When Harry Met Sally' like this," she babbled. "There are rules!"
"Rules?" Tristin shot her an incredulous stare.
"You have to be comfortable. Like PJ's!" she suggested.
Rory hopped out of the bed and ran toward her suitcase. She unzipped it hurriedly and started rummaging through her clothes. She tossed her undergarments to the side of the luggage. Then she proceeded to stockpile her other articles of clothing on the first batch she unloaded on the floor until she got to the bottom of the bag where her pajamas nestled.
"Aha!" Rory yelped in victory as she pulled out the pajama set.
They were the cutest set he has ever seen. It was a lavender flannel set covered in numbers and jumping sheep. The top buttoned up front. The pajama bottoms were the drawstring kind. He smiled as he pictured Rory in them.
"What's so funny?" Rory asked as she faced Tristin.
Tristin was not prepared for Rory's next stunt. She decided to throw modesty to the wind and stripped in front of the boys. Graham spat his beer out and spilled some beer foam on his pants. Tristin lunged out of the bed attempting to cover Rory up.
"Crap!" Graham swore. He ran out of the room. Rory's eyes followed the blurry vision than just passed her.
"What was that all about?" Rory asked, oblivious to the ruckus she caused.
"Baby, you just don't do that in front of the opposite sex," Tristin said as he played with her silk bra strap. "Not that I mind, but I think you got Graham flustered."
"Why? Don't tell me you guys haven't seen a naked girl before," Rory argued.
"Point taken," Tristin responded. He took several steps back until he got to his claimed spot on the bed. To make a point, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it on the floor by the side of the bed.
"What are you doing?" Rory asked back.
"Giving you a dose of your own medicine," Tristin said as he started undoing his jeans.
"Oh yay! You're getting comfortable for the movie," Rory said in delight, missing the point Tristin was trying to drive through her head. She undid the hook on her bra through her pajama top. She pulled the undergarment from the sleeve of her sleepwear.
"How do you do that?" Tristin inquired.
"The bra thing? I don't know. I think it's a genetic girl thing. I learned it from Jennifer Beals in 'Flashdance'," she responded.
"I think it's interesting," he murmured, pooling his pants down to his ankles. Tristin felt more than naked being in his knickers and undershirt.
"Everyone decent?" Graham questioned from behind the door.
"Come in, prude," Rory invited.
Graham came in with three more bottles of beer. He was dressed only with a pair of baggy shorts, like an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog model. He flexed his chest to her as he handed her a bottle. She took the bottle he offered graciously, and then smiled at him. She headed to the left side of the bed, plumped up the pillows and squirmed into her seat until she was comfortable. She glanced at Graham, who also raised his bottle towards her. Finally, he pressed 'Play' to continue the movie.
Rory took a sip from her bottle. The condensation that formed on her bottle started dripping beads on her sleep gear. She shook her head and laid the bottle on the bedside table. Tristin looked at her as she moved. She crawled towards him and laid her head on his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her. She snuggled, watched part of the film, and then fell asleep.
As far as Tristin was concerned, he could have died and gone to heaven.
