DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. These are fictional characters created by someone who isn't me, but used in an even more far-fetched situations to satisfy my own sick ends.

AN: ah. Okay, so they started talking, and I can't go back on that now, can I? Hehe. Sorry if you think I'm evil, but I really enjoy the wordless play that they seemed to have, even though they do have great verbal banter. They way people connect really can be seen, way before they speak. But you don't want to hear my thoughts on that, so I give you now another chapter. Keep reviewing, and I'll keep writing. It seems to be a good motivator.

Having seen her past date behavior, he knew that if he wanted to continue talking to her, he had better follow her when she excused herself to the restroom. They'd discussed their food, their jobs and took a brief stint through the college years. Both were fairly sure that Heather and Brian had no idea they'd known each other from years past as well. They'd been eating just twenty minutes, though it seemed almost longer as the constant reminder as to why they were both here was constantly between them, chatting loudly and happily.

He didn't bother to excuse himself from the table, as no one left cared if he was still enjoying his food or if his hair spontaneous caught fire. He noted that she had taken her purse and jacket, following suit and grabbing his jacket as he half jogged to the exit.

She stood outside the restaurant, looking down the street to assess the cab situation. She had no thoughts of what she left behind; her mind was obviously on to the comforts that home would provide just as soon as she could walk in her front door.

"You didn't seriously think you could leave me in there with that nightmare, did you?"

His voice almost startled her; she wasn't expecting him to follow her. Not that she blamed him for wanting to get out of there. She didn't turn to face him; instead, she continued her search for an empty cab as she gave her reply.

"What's the matter, you weren't enjoying your date?"

Her sarcasm obviously hadn't waned over the years. A cab came to a rather abrupt stop before her, responding to her outstretched hand, and she opened the door. He didn't miss a beat; he moved instantly and slid in next to her, much to her surprise. She began to give her address to the cabbie, but he was louder than she was. He gave a location and winked at her.

"So, you're hijacking my cab?"

"I'm taking us someplace we'll both enjoy."

"I'm not going home with you, Tristan."

"It's not my home."

"Where are we going?"

"Patience, patience," he instructed her, as she rolled her eyes and sat back against the seat.

"Why did you follow me? I was going to the bathroom."

"Ah, you forget, I've seen you get out of dates—I know your work," he leaned back and rested so his shoulder brushed hers.

Rory smiled, hanging her head a little. "Ah, so my secrets are out."

"Pretty much. That and you took your coat. Now, I don't know what all you ladies do in the bathroom, but I'm guessing a coat isn't needed."

"It's not very proper to discuss what ladies do in a bathroom."

"We're off topic, here. So, that date stealer was your escort for the evening?"

"Brian, yes. Though, he wasn't the date stealer. Your blonde friend coerced him to join you two."

"Hey, don't blame me, it was a setup," he said as his hands went up in defense.

He regretted giving her that information just as soon as it left his mouth. Her eyes lit up as if it was Christmas morning and she was five.

"Tristan Dugrey on a setup?"

"Rory," he warned.

"Who set you up? Oh, tell me it was your mother," she pleaded, clapping her hands together in glee.

"Look, I've been busy and she thought I wasn't dating enough lately. She was concerned."

"Oh. My. God." Her blue eyes danced as the information processed in her overworking brain.

"What?" he almost encouraged her to go on but crossed his arms over his chest.

"Nothing. But I can die happy now," came the reply through the giggles she wasn't trying to hide very well.

"You're horrible."

They sat in silence for a moment, him not wanting to talk and her trying to sort out the millions of thoughts that were flying through her mind, how best to continue torturing him about this. She looked over at him, obviously pouting just a bit, however manly he tried to look to hide it. His lips were pursed tightly, his arms crossed and staring off into the New York night. She was just about to open her mouth again when the cab pulled to a stop. Tristan handed over some cash and opened the door.

"We're at the park," she said in confusion.

"Yes, we are. Are you coming?"

"Uh, yeah," she said quickly, moving out of the cab. "Let me pay you for half the ride," she insisted.

He waved his hand at her, as if to dismiss her prior request. He continued to walk, moving slowly through the park. She fell into step next to him, enjoying the serene setting of the park at night. She'd never actually walked through the park at night, as it wasn't the safest thing for a single woman to do alone. She felt safe, now, roaming around the pathways with Tristan.

"Tell me something," she broke the silence.

"What?"

"Do you hate dating as much as I do?"

He gave a soft chuckle. His fingers ran though his blonde hair and he scrunched up his mouth as if preparing to trying to formulate the words.

"I wouldn't say I hate dating," he began.

"You never seem to have much luck when I've seen you."

"I've grown a bit tired of dating the same kind of girl, I must say."

"What? Tristan, the last few girls I've seen you have been vastly different! I will say they've all been blondes, but most guys have that particular problem," she rambled.

"Wait, wait. What problem is this?" he held up one hand to pause her rambling, as he demanded clarification.

"I'm just saying most guys stick to dating girls with the same color hair."

"That's not true. I'm an equal opportunity dater. You've just witnessed three dates."

"Then, pray tell, what is so similar about these women," she mocked him.

"No substance. Completely wrong for me. Even if I wanted to get them in bed, I'd rather be shot at than talk to them afterwards."

"Wow, Tristan, I'm impressed."

He looked sidelong at her, knowing full well she was making fun of him. He knew she had no room to talk; she was having just as much of a dry spell as he was.

"What's wrong with all the guys you keep dating?"

"What makes you think you've seen all the guys I've dated since that first night in the restaurant?" she tried to cover with an air of superiority, but he saw she was still no good at lying.

"You're playing with your hair."

"What? I am not--," she cut off as she realized her hand was twirling a few strands that fell over her shoulder. She released the locks and put her hand in her pocket. He smiled and nodded, as if for her to continue.

"Everyone in my life thinks I need to be dating more, and they keep setting me up. Well, except for Brian, I met him at work a few days ago."

"We're pretty pathetic, then huh?"

"I'm not pathetic, I enjoy being at home and reading a good book. And you're just looking for substance," she threw him a bone, so he wouldn't think she thought badly of him.

"Well, I'm sure I'd find more substance if I read a good book," he agreed.

She smiled at his joke, and noticed they'd reached a swing set. She grabbed his arm, and pulled him over to the structure. She sat in one of the swings and looked up at him expectantly.

"What?"

"Push me," she said as if it were to be obvious.

"Excuse me?"

"Swing, push," she explained, making hand movements to help describe the scene that normally took place on a playground. He gave her a look, but moved around behind her and grasped her by the hips. He drew her far back, and gave her a mighty push. She held on to the chains for support, not expecting him to give her such a powerful send off. She fell into the rhythm, the feeling of loss of gravity as she fell back to earth, the warmth of his hand on the small of her back alternatively with the cool night air rushing around her as she continued to swing.

"Tristan?"

"Yeah?"

"Why'd you bring me here?"

He was silent for a moment, and gave her another light push as he gave himself some time.

"I guess, I just figured it was strange running into you so many times and not really talking," he shrugged, though she couldn't see him.

"We talked in the restaurant."

"We made polite conversation in front of two people we don't know and now can't stand," he corrected.

"True. I'm glad you followed me."

He smiled at her words, and nodded. "Me too."

"Hey, help me stop, will you?" came her innocent request. He grabbed her by her waist again as she flew backwards against him, and he ran a bit forward, slowing her down as they moved backwards again, so she wouldn't have to scuff her nice shoes in the gravel below her. He released his grasp on her as she became still, and waited fro her to get up.

"I should probably be getting home," she said a bit regretfully, glancing down at her watch.

"Yeah, let's go get you a cab," he agreed.

"We should do this again," she said, looking at him as if the idea of hanging out with him had only just occurred to her.

"We should. Without the bad dates," he smirked.

"Definitely."

They walked back out to the street, and he hailed her a cab, smiling at her as she told him she was in the book, and to give her a call sometime. He wasn't sure what was going on now, but he was glad the chase seemed to be over and he knew he could see her again on purpose. He watched her slip into the cab, talk to the driver, and followed with his eyes as it disappeared into the sea of yellow before turning to get his own ride home.