Rating: PG-14
Summary: Rory, Lane, Lorelai, and her grandparents arrive in Maui in celebration of Rory's graduation from Yale. As she settles into a few weeks of sun and fun, she doesn't realize that there is more fun to be had...when Tristan Dugrey shows up.
Written in response to a this request:
Things to include:
1) A midnight walk on the beach.
2) Witty conversations. Intellectual bantering pleeeease.
3) Their "second" kiss. Teehee.
4) Sometime in the future please.
1) Smut. If you must include some sort of sexual
interaction, then please do it tastefully at the very least.
2) Cheesy, boy-chases-after-girl plot lines.
3) AU-ness. I like Tristan and Rory just as they are. Teehee.
Author's notes: So this being a typical Trory piece I have tried to include a little bit of everything...and of course the pre-set requirements as stated above. I am hoping you enjoy this. Oh and the title is in reference to a song...much as is this whole fic exchange - Grease.
I enjoyed writing it. It was stretching and somewhat stressful. So I hope this meets your expectations...:D
Oh But For Those Summer Nights
"I can't believe your grandparents agreed to take me with you guys!" Lane exclaimed.
"Well how could I think of going without you?" Rory glanced up at her best friend and smiled. As she unzipped her suitcase, she began pulling out her wardrobe and placing them in the hotel drawers. "It's my grad gift to you."
Lane flopped backwards onto her bed. She and Rory were staying in a room by themselves. There were two double beds and a large walk-in closet in the luxurious hotel room the Gilmores had booked for them. "It sucks compared to my little grad gift for you!"
"Don't say that!" Rory loved the heartfelt gift Lane had given to her. "The 3-disc compilation of our college year Top 50 and season one DVDs of The Donna Reed Show was excellent taste on your part," she reprimanded. "Although I think Mom has already confiscated the DVDs."
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the door.
"Who is it?" Rory ran over and opened the door.
"Hey girls!" Lorelai's bright face peered around the door.
"Hey Mom." Rory returned to her suitcase and finished unpacking. "What are you doing here?"
"That's what I was about to ask you!" Lorelai pointed at Rory and Lane. "It's a glorious day, and you're still in this unoriginal, homogenized, froo froo hotel room?" She spun around with her hands in the air. "There are tikki bars to visit, white sands to frolic in and cute boys to meet!"
"We just needed to unpack," Rory sighed at her mother's melodramatic accusations. "We're almost ready to go!" She slid her empty suitcase off her bed and placed it into the closet.
"B-but look at yourselves!"
Lane furrowed her brow and glanced down at her outfit. "What? Are we out of style already?" She looked over at Rory. "Wow. That was fast," she mumbled. "Unless we were already out of style when we left, or we were never in style..."
"Mom," Rory interrupted Lane's ramblings, "look what you did?" She gestured to Lane, who was still talking to herself. "You made Lane freak."
"Aww, but that's part of the fun," Lorelai pouted, sticking out her bottom lip. "Besides, you two are definitely not dressed for Maui!"
Rory raised her brow skeptically. "And you are?" She wagged her finger up and down at her mother's outfit.
Lorelai was wearing a light blue tank top and green, khaki capris, very similar to Rory's own outfit.
"Duh." Lorelai rolled her eyes at Rory like she was insane for thinking such a thing. "Of course not!"
"Well then what are you complaining about?"
"Nothing," Lorelai drawled, her eyes innocently darting around the room. "Unless perhaps there might be a shopping spree for the two of you?" She whipped a small, platinum card from behind her back. "Uh, will that be in a small or medium?" Lorelai grinned mischievously.
"But you don't have a platinum card," Rory frowned. "You know the MasterCard people weren't happy when you started harassing them about getting Air miles at the stores in Stars Hollow."
Lorelai wiggled her eyebrows. "Ah, daughter of mine," she said gleefully. "This is not on me, but on your grandparents."
"Since when did you allow grandma and grandpa to pay for anything?" Rory narrowed her eyes, studying her mother new attitude, as if an alien had taken over her body. "You freak whenever they even think of paying for anything."
"But this is Maui," Lorelai smirked. "And here, we live by the rules set by the Mauians..." She paused a moment. "Is Mauians the right term?"
Rory rolled her eyes.
"Anyway, so, yeah," Lorelai clapped her hands, "my parent's money is good here."
Rory was always disturbed by her mother's logic, but she wasn't about to argue with her. Besides, she didn't have the stubborn streak her mother had when it came to her grandparents buying her gifts - well not extravagant ones anyway. Clothes were okay.
"S-so you mean they're buying me clothes, too?" Lane gaped at the offer.
"Yup," Lorelai nodded. "So what are we waiting for?
"Let's go shopping!"
Rory was excited about her summer vacation in Maui. She had a feeling that something unexpected was about to happen to her.
-&-
Rory cringed as she unavoidably listened to the whistles and catcalls from scantily-clad women several feet from her. She glanced up to see what the commotion was about; several hundred feet from shore was a small figure paddling towards them, as the crystal clear, blue waters swelled up behind him. The figure stood up on the board, swerving in and out of the wave, and finally disappearing under the white foam, only to appear on the other side of the wave unharmed.
"Are you seriously going to sit and read the day away?" Lane asked incredulously. "Do you see the gorgeous beach that lies before you?" A mischievous glint flashed in her eyes. "And the boys!"
Rory peered over her sunglasses and scanned the overcrowded beach. She didn't see the boys Lane mentioned, not that was what she wanted out of this vacation. It wasn't something she didn't want, but she wouldn't scout the beaches for unattached guys.
Their second day in Maui had been filled with sun and leisure time; but it was too crowded on the beach to really do anything - like throwing a frisbee, not like that was something she had any skill in. Besides, she was still getting over the jetlag from the day before. "I think I'm doing fine," Rory replied satisfactorily to her best friend. "But I'm not stopping you from frolicking in the waves." She waved her hand airily, motioning Lane to join the group of twenty-something's beckoning her to join them. "Shoo!"
"You're sure?" Lane asked uncertainly.
Rory nodded. "Go."
She watched Lane slowly skip off and join the girls her age, who where tossing a frisbee around. The rich, royal purple two-piece suited her best friend's petite figure. Her mother and Lane practically scoured all the local markets and villages for the 'good' bargains. Lorelai had insisted the best merchandise would be found in little flea markets and such, as it was always famously portrayed in movie montages - Lane waved at her from a few feet away - and she had been right.
Movies definitely had their merits.
Rory sighed; she leaned back in her reclining chaise and cracked open her newest read, The Iliad. It was a little out of the ordinary, but interesting nonetheless. She had read so many genres of books, The Iliad was a refreshing change; and having images of Brad Pitt and Eric Bana running through mind wasn't a bad thing either. The movie had grown on her; and she and Lane had rented it several times over their summer breaks during college. Lorelai had mercilessly teased her and Lane about appreciating Brad Pitt's 'form' so closely. But in her own defence, her mother had no problem admiring Orlando Bloom's physique, which was kind of an odd choice in men when her mother usually had better taste than that. The corners of her lips curled upwards, as she pictured Brad Pitt and his well-trained physique.
When she had began to immerse herself into the world of greek mythology, suddenly she felt a light spray of cold water sprinkle across her body. Rory jumped and squealed softly, wiping the water droplets from her stomach.
"Hey, I'll catch you later!" A tall, dripping wet figure loomed over her, carrying a large surf board, oblivious to how his quick movements regaled her with cold water droplets.
"Hey!" Rory set down her book on the small table beside her and frowned. "Watch where you're dripping!"
The tanned figure in long red board shorts spun around, with his surfboard in his right arm, to face her. Rory furrowed her brow as the sun blinded her even with her sunglasses on, and the stranger's face was hidden under the white glare. "Sorry," the faceless man apologized.
"That's okay," she said dismissively. "Just as long as you refrain from spraying me with water again."
There was no point in making a big deal over another thoughtless guy.
Rory settled back into her chair, prepared to return to her book, when she realized that the stranger had not moved from his spot.
"Mary?"
Where did she come from?
Tristan definitely hadn't expected this. Rory Gilmore. In Maui. Who would have thought?
Her reaction was hard to gauge; her eyes were hidden behind a pair of dark-rimmed sunglasses. Rory always did like to hide. Even in their Chilton days, she hid behind the innocent waif facade.
Tristan's eyes wandered from her pale face, down towards the other more interesting parts of her anatomy. She filled the aquamarine bikini very well. Her toned and shapely legs were not hard on the eyes that was for sure.
So Mary is all grown up.
Rory tilted her head uncertainly. The nickname was unforgettable. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and slid her sunglasses up and rested it upon the crown of her head. "Tristan?" The faceless figure propped the surfboard up in the sand and knelt down on one knee. His familiar, azure blue eyes twinkled in the sun's rays; and she remembered the playful smile that always seemed to tug at the corners of his lips. "It is you." His hair was a little longer than before, but it was the same Tristan Dugrey.
"What are you doing here?" Rory swallowed hard. She hadn't seen or heard from Tristan in years. And this was the least expected encounter of her summer.
Tristan ran his fingers through his hair, smoothing it back. It had grown unnoticeably long. "You look good," he said, unable to register her question.
Rory Gilmore. He was talking to Rory Gilmore again.
Rory felt the blood rush to her face at the unexpected compliment. He had been her tormentor throughout her first year at Chilton. Part of her couldn't reconcile that Tristan to the seemingly well mannered man kneeling before her. "Thanks," she nodded, "so do you." Rory plastered a smile on her face, as her mind raced for topics of conversation.
What did one say to a guy they hadn't seen in six years?
"So what are you doing here in Maui?" That seemed like a good question.
"Summer vacation," Tristan replied casually. "You know, before we have to really work."
Rory groaned instinctively at the thought. "Yeah," she laughed. "I never thought finding a job after college would be a 'job' in itself."
Tristan raised a skeptical brow. "You? Rory Gilmore?" He shook his head. "You succeeding out of school was always a given," he chuckled. "You were always on top of things." She always had her nose in the books. Tristan was often reminded of her whenever he passed by a chestnut-haired girl hidden behind a textbook or reading quietly by herself. For years he had secretly hoped he would bump into Rory Gilmore again, but it never happened...until now.
Rory furrowed her brow, debating whether his last comment was subtle innuendo; she shook her head. Of course not. He has been nothing but a gentleman.
"What?" Tristan eyed her suspiciously.
Rory looked up at him wide-eyed and dismayed. "What?"
"You had this weird look on your face and then you shook your head." He propped himself against the chaise armrest. "Did I say something wrong?" She seemed flustered or embarrassed that he had noticed the internal conversation.
"N-no."
Tristan remained quiet, studying her flawless features. She looked exactly as he remembered her; although she had this confidence about her now. Rory had seemed to have lost that innocent naiveté, which had peaked his curiosity, years ago. However, it had been replaced by a mature sophistication, and he found himself even more intrigued. "Say, would you like to get..."
"Rory, tell me why you let me wander off with a bunch of classic blondes?" Lane asked drolly, plopping down on the chaise next to Rory. "I swear all men just want the same thing and the blondes just eagerly give it to them." The petite Asian girl froze, suddenly realizing that her friend had company. "Oh, sorry," she smiled weakly, "I didn't mean to interrupt."
"No, Lane," Rory said, trying to hide her discomfort. "This is a friend...from Chilton, I went to school with."
Rory felt flushed all over. She wasn't quite sure whether it was from the heat or from unfinished proposal Tristan had been about to make. Everything about him felt different...made her feel differently about him. Usually she had been automatically repulsed, but now...
"Hello Lane." Tristan smiled, offering his hand to Rory's friend. "Nice to meet you." Rory watched numbly as Lane happily accept his offer of friendship. Who was this well mannered man? And why did he make her feel like a schoolgirl all over again? Rory silently scolded herself and told herself that she was an adult, who could handle being ogled at. Just because he was cute did not mean she had to lose her head.
I didn't do it at Chilton; I'm certainly not going to do it here.
"Hey Tristan! We gotta get going or we're going to be late!" A male voice shouted from behind Rory. Tristan glanced over by the boardwalk and waved in acknowledgement. "I have to get going," he informed awkwardly. "It was nice to meet you, Lane." Tristan smiled at the Rory's girlfriend. "And it was great running into you, Mary."
"Yeah," Rory nodded absent-mindedly. "It was great to see you again."
Tristan raised his brow in confusion, not quite sure how the whole unexpected run-in conversation had gone. Nothing you can do about it now. He pushed himself up and pulled his surfboard out of the sand. "Sorry for dousing you before," he chuckled, winking at her as he left. Although he was quite sure he was not.
"Who was that?" Lane asked dreamily. "He looked like Brad Pitt, except with soulful eyes."
Rory glanced over her shoulder, making sure that what had just happened, really happened. "He is the spawn of Satan," she stated simply, watching the tall, muscular 'intrigue' of her freshman year at Chilton walk away again.
-&-
"Oooh, this is good," Lane purred, as she nursed the Sex on the Beach cocktail in her hand. "I declare wh-ee be the wh-ild, carefree gals wh-ee used to be in our youth!"
Rory tried to stifle the urge to laugh, as Lane lifted the drink above her head, gesturing the crowd to join her in a toast. Her best friend still could not hold her liquor. As hard as Lane tried during the past four years at Saint Joseph College, to develop a tolerance to the sweet tasting depressant; however, neither could she.
"We were never carefree, Lane," Rory pointed out.
Lane looked over at Rory with a perplexed expression on her face. "Wh-ee wh-eren't?" Her speech began to slur. "Are you sh-uure?" Lane pointed the index finger of the hand that held her drink at Rory. "I mean, I think I was pret-ty wh-ild," she protested, shaking her head. "I had purple hair once!" Her volume rose slightly, declaring it to the patrons of the tikki bar.
"Yes you did," Rory nodded in agreement, "for one day you had purple hair!"
Lane smiled mischievously. "I still have the Polaroid to prove it too!"
Rory felt a little lightheaded. She knew this was her cue to stop drinking. After her first Spring break encounter with a hangover, Rory swore to never experience that again. She had finely honed the skill of drinking to a science. At the first sign of light-headedness, her internal alarms kicked in and she knew that if she had one more drink, she would definitely end up with a killer hangover.
"We could be like Elizabeth Shue in Cocktail!" Lane exclaimed.
Apparently Rory had missed part of the conversation her best friend had been having with herself.
"Well, well...what do we have here?" A husky voice whispered into her ear.
Rory cringed, as she felt a spray of moist spit on her ear. She turned and faced the dark-haired man, in his early thirties, looming over her. He wasn't unattractive, but the way his raked over her body, as if imagining her undressed, sent a shiver down her spine.
"Do you like the way Earl whispers into your ear, honey?" He leaned in closer, his lips barely grazing her ear. "I think you and I should find a warm cozy place to talk." The man reached around her with one arm, until she was boxed in, her back pressed against the bar.
"Hey!" Lane exclaimed, as if the impending threat had suddenly sobered her. "Get lost!"
"I think that's your cue, sweetie." The imposing figure glanced irritably over at Lane. "Unless you want to join us?" He laughed heartily.
"Ew!"
"You can say that again!" Rory said, disgusted. She pressed her hands up against the man's muscular chest and pushed him off. "Get lost." As she slipped off of the wooden stool, Rory grabbed Lane's hand and backed away from Earl.
Earl looked a little put off. "Don't be such a tease," he growled. "You're not going to find a better offer, babe." He grabbed his crotch, as if bring attention to his 'assets' was attractive.
Rory closed her eyes and shuddered. She would be reliving that image in her dreams that night; she just knew it.
"Hey buddy," a voice barked from behind, "we don't want trouble around here."
Rory stepped aside, pulling Lane alongside her; as a medium sized, blonde-haired man in a luau shirt stalked passed them with his arms opened wide, in an attempt to prevent the presumptuous admirer from slipping past him. Two more men dressed in luau shirts - one with long, dark hair tied back and the other with a crewcut - stepped up behind him, for added support. She watched in shock and awe, as they escorted the unruly man off the beachfront property.
Swallowing hard, Rory glanced over to Lane, who seemed semi-paralyzed in fear - her lips were parted and her eyes were big and round. When Earl was out of sight, she slowly exhaled. Rory felt her heart racing as the blood pounded in her ears; she hadn't realized how much he had frightened her.
Where had those men come from?
-&-
"Are you all right?" Tristan asked anxiously. He had seen the whole thing.
"U-uh, yeah," Rory said distractedly. Shaking her head, she turned around to see Tristan standing there with two other guys. She blinked a couple of times. "Tristan?"
Tristan had come down to the beachfront for a bonfire the locals had planned later that evening. He had spotted Rory at the bar with her friend Lane, but opted not to bother them. It had been awkward the first time and he didn't want to seem like he was chasing after her. After all, he had moved on, grown up. By the time he noticed the trouble at the bar, the unnamed creep already had boxed Rory in.
In his early college days he would have jumped into the fray and probably punched the guy's lights out. After trial and error, he learned better. The man was taller and bigger than him. He wouldn't have been able to take him; instead, he found security, who had been patrolling the beaches.
"Are you sure?" He inspected Rory from head to toe, just in case he had grabbed her or hurt her in any way.
It took a minute for Rory to gather her composure and realize she was in a conversation. She furrowed her brow, trying to concentrate on the person in front of her. "Um, yeah." Her heart had slowed to its normal pace and her head was clearing - whether it was from the shock or the alcohol she wasn't sure.
"Did you find those guys?" Lane asked, pointing to the three men dressed in luau shirts approaching them.
Tristan nodded. "Yeah, you looked like you could've used a bit of help." He raised a knowing eyebrow.
"Thanks." Rory didn't know what else to say. She felt disoriented and vulnerable. All she wanted to do was go back to her hotel room.
"You probably want to go home after that, huh?" Tristan could read the tension in Rory's face. She didn't feel safe. "Do you want me to escort you back to the hotel or house? wherever you're staying?"
"No, I'm fine," Rory protested. She would be fine in a few minutes. She just needed time to shake off the unsettling feeling the stranger had filled her with. "You can go back to whoever you were with." Looking up at him, Rory flashed a bright smile, hoping that would reassure him. "I don't want to keep you."
"Uh, maybe he should walk us back to our hotel?" Lane said hesitantly.
"No." Rory turned and glared at Lane, silently expressing her dismay at the idea.
Tristan's jaw set with determination. "I'm going," he stated. "I don't think either of you are in any condition to walk back by yourselves."
"We're fine." Rory hated that he was treating her like a child. "We only had a few," she stumbled slightly, "drinks." Rory gritted her teeth and felt her cheeks warm at her inept ability to remain co-ordinated in stressful situations. She always had to prove herself wrong.
Tristan grabbed her arm to steady her. "Right," he smiled.
Why did her clumsiness have to rear its ugly head now, Rory thought to herself. Just when she was about to make a clean getaway.
""I would really feel much better if you just let me escort you." Tristan held out both arms to the ladies. "Because either way, I would make sure you arrived safely back at your hotel - whether I escorted you or just lurked in the shadows, giving the illusion that you were alone."
Rory glanced up wearily at Tristan and sighed. She sighed, slipping her arm around the crook of his arm and waited as Lane did the same. "All right. Let's go."
-&-
"Maybe he is Tom Cruise to your Elizabeth Shue!" Lane teased, with a mischievous glint in her eye. "I'm telling you, he's even better than Tom Cruise. He's hot!"
Rory felt her face flush at the mere suggestion, as preposterous as it was. "He doesn't like me like that," she protested, though a part of her wondered if he might actually be attracted to her.
"We've been hanging out with him the past three days, Rory." Lane looked at her, flabbergasted, as she applied sunscreen on her arms. "He likes you."
Rory shrugged. "It was coincidence that we keep running into him." After Tristan escorted them to their hotel, Rory had run into him on the boardwalk, as she and her grandmother were out for a stroll. Of course Emily recognized him immediately and invited him for supper. They really hadn't talked much at all during the evening. Emily kept him well engaged in conversation. "Besides we've barely even talked."
Lane let out an exasperated sigh, and dramatically fell back into her chaise. "For a girl who always has a guy pining for her somewhere, you sure don't know when a guy likes you," she chided. There was a pause, and then she looked over the top of her sunglasses knowingly. "And you kind of like him."
Rory froze at the accusation. What? She furrowed her brow at the suggestion. She must have heard wrong.
"I, what?" Rory stared at her in disbelief.
"You heard me," Lane replied, now relaxing on her back, enjoying the warm sun. "You're attracted to him."
"Do you not recall me telling you how much I loathed the guy, until he got sent off to military school?"
"And I remember you telling me that you were kind of sad to see him go," Lane sang softly.
This left Rory slack-jawed. "I don't like him." She sat up and folded her arms across her chest and glared at Lane, as she remained reclined in her chaise. "He was nice enough the past few days, but that doesn't give me a reason to like 'like' him."
"Aw, c'mon Rory," Lane sighed, moving only to turn her head to face her. "You'd have to be dead not to notice how good looking he is."
Rory opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it quickly. He was...well, hot. There was no use in denying that. But to jump from thinking he's attractive to liking him were two different things.
"Why is it a problem to like him?"
"He's Tristan..." Her voice trailed off. She couldn't think of any other reasons at the moment.
Darn it. Why can't I think of a better reason?
"You know what?" Lane exclaimed, suddenly sitting up with a start.
"What?" "You should have a summer fling!" Her best friend pulled her sunglasses off and looked at her wide-eyed. She shook her head fervently. "This is such a good idea," she said, clapping her hands excitedly. "It would be like Grease, where Sandy and Danny fell in love over the summer, only to meet up again at school..." Lane's eyes were dilated and it was as if she were in a different world.
Rory shook her head at Lane. She had gone insane, that was it. Her best friend had gone insane. "The sun is definitely getting to you," Rory said dryly. "First it was Cocktail and now it's Grease?"
"I'm sure you could pick two better movies to reference..."
"But it's the good idea that it inspired that counts!" Lane swung her legs over the side of the chaise and looked Rory squarely in the eye. "You haven't gone out in the past eight months, and since you and Roger broke up, you've done nothing but work and study...study and work." She leaned forward, motioning with a crook of her to come closer. Rory complied. "It's time you had a little fun."
Rory eyed Lane warily. As much as Lane was level headed, there were moments of absolute insanity. "I've been having fun," she declared. "Thank you very much."
"You could be having an amazing time, is my point." Lane waggled her finger in front of Rory's face. "And that, my dear, is why your grandparents and mother brought you out here."
"Not for what you're suggesting..."
"Live a little Gilmore! You never know what you might find out in that big ocean out there."
Rory looked away, not wanting to discuss the idea any longer. Her gaze trailed out into crystal clear ocean, that lapped against the shore. Out in the distance she saw a couple of shadowy figures riding the waves as they rolled into shore. She imagined what Tristan might look like on his surfboard, out in the rough waves.
Have a summer fling with Tristan Dugrey? Out of the question. Or was it?
-&-
Tristan stared down absentmindedly at the drink in front of him, stirring the tropical cocktail with his stir six. It was hard to get Rory out of his mind when he had been given a few opportunities to spend time with her and her family. The Gilmores were the complete opposite to his family. Though Emily and Richard, as they insisted on him calling them, held themselves with the utmost decorum, there was a warmth and caring that were not easily masked or desirously masked. Richard even reminded him of his grandfather a little.
"Tristan." Rory slid onto the stood next to him and ordered a Long Island Ice Tea. "Drinking alone?"
Rory felt foolish, trying to act all calm and cool, when she had nothing but butterflies in her stomach. She had gone back and forth over the idea of slipping into casual conversation with Tristan, who had been sitting alone at the bar. Finally she just took in a deep breath and plunged in. She had no idea what prompted her to make her presence known to Tristan, but there was no turning back now.
"Rory?" Tristan dropped his stir six and glanced at the vision who sat beside him. He swallowed hard, pleased to see her again. "What are you doing here?" He glanced around, waiting for Lane or Lorelai to pop up behind her any minute now.
He paused.
Nope.
"Aw, I'm hurt." She feigned dismay. "If you'd like," she motioned with a flick of her wrist, "I could go?"
Tristan eyed her suspiciously. It seemed very much like 'flirting' to him, as he grabbed her arm to stop her from leaving. But this was Rorry, who had never given him the time of day, let alone flirt with him. He would play along for now. "So you finally came around." He let go of her arm as she remained seated beside him.
"Came around?" Rory looked at him in confusion, settling back onto the stool. "What are you talking about?"
"It only took you seven years to finally see what we could've had, Mary." His eyes twinkled mischievously. "I don't know if the timings right anymore."
Rory rolled her eyes. She couldn't do it. She couldn't flirt with Tristan Dugrey. It just wasn't in her. "Do you say that to all the girls?"
"No," Tristan grinned, "I save it for the memorable girls in my life."
Her forehead furrowed, as a familiar scowl formed on Rory's face. He still had it. Tristan watched in rapt attention, as she became more tightly wound by his insensitive remarks.
Wait for it.
"You really haven't changed much have you?" Rory shook her head in disgust. She turned around on her stool to face him. "You are as arrogant as you were in Grade 11."
Her eyes sparkled, as she prepared to give him a piece of her mind. Tristan was ever so fascinated at how a small remark from his lips could send her into an uproar. A part of him had always hoped it was because she held a secret torch for him. But after their several conversations, the realism of it all had sunk in; and he knew she hadn't given him much thought, other than the fact that he had a grating effect on her.
"I'd like to think that I've changed a little over the years, Ror," he chuckled, resting his arm against the bar. "But it's nice to see that you haven't changed much."
Rory took a sip of her ice tea. "Thank you," she smiled politely. "I'll take that as a compliment."
"I don't know," he drawled. "I wouldn't be too sure of that."
"Really?" Rory gave him a once over. "And what would you call it?"
Tristan tapped a finger against his lips, as he now had the opportunity to study her openly. "I would have to say," he reached out and gently brushed a thin lock of hair from her face, "that you're still...safe."
The word had come unexpectedly to him. And Tristan wasn't quite sure why he used that word to describe her.
"Safe?" Rory looked at him skeptically. "And that's a bad thing?"
"It is when it comes to relationships and finding out what you really want."
"How so?"
Tristan seemed to be on a roll; she seemed to be listening to him quite attentively, although he was sure that she wasn't ready to buy anything he was selling.
"First you have to promise to answer my questions truthfully." He wagged a knowing finger at Rory. "If not, then this whole conversation is moot." She seemed to question the possible merit to his insight, yet from the set and determined expression on her face, he knew she would cave. This brought a slight smile to his lips.
He had her intrigued.
"Okay," Rory nodded. "Ask your questions." She sat up straight, preparing herself for the onslaught of vulgar and suggestive innuendoes.
"How many guys have you gone out with?"
"Five or six, depending whether you're talking long-term relationships."
Tristan hummed at this. She had dated more...or less than he expected; he wasn't sure. Part of him was surprised to know that she hadn't married by now - to her first love...the Paper bag boy. Of course not. He was never right for her.
She needed someone her own speed.
"What?" Rory was disturbed at the silence her revelation of how many men she had dated had brought over Tristan. "What are you humming about?"
She was actually quite put off. What was she doing, letting him analyze her love life?
Tristan shook his head, brought back to reality by her voice. "Uh, nothing." He met her uneasy gaze; his breath was taken away by those eyes that were as open as a book. She never hid behind a mask, unlike some people he knew...
"And Paper bag...uh, I mean, Dick was one those five, right?" He cleared his throat and took a gulp of his drink, trying to focus at the task on hand. He smiled awkwardly at Rory.
'Do you know what the task at hand is?' a silent voice asked Tristan.
"Dean," Rory corrected irritably, "was one of them."
"And what were your other boyfriends like?"
"What do you mean?"
"Well, I would guess most of them were straight-laced?" he offered, finishing off his drink and setting the glass down with a thud. "They were nice guys, who never argued with you, who never pushed you out of your comfort zone..." His voice trailed off.
Rory smiled. She finally had leverage on him. He had made a mistake. "Ha!" she pointed at him, shaking her head. "No!"
"Really?" Tristan arched an eyebrow, surprised at her expression of triumph.
"I had a boyfriend whom everyone hated. He was a bad boy, leather jacket and all!" Rory couldn't say Jess was her fondest memory, as he had boarded the bus one day and left town, never to be heard from again.
"Wow," Tristan nodded, impressed at the slight change of pace, in her choice of men. "And what happened to...him?"
Rory shrugged, not liking where this was going. "Jess. He left town. I went to college," she averted her gaze, signalling the bartender to bring another drink, "it all worked out for the best." Rory hated that she could still hear the bitterness in her voice.
Tristan could see her eyes cloud over at the mention of this unknown loser. "Okay," he breathed, not wanting to dive further into this subject. This was not the road he wanted to travel down. "And what were the other boyfriends like?"
Tristan watched her eyes flicker, as she remembered her most recent boyfriends; and he knew that he had hit gold. "Boring, stodgy Ivy leaguers?" His voice held a trace of amusement.
He knew he was right.
"N-no," Rory protested. She would never use those words to describe the men she had dated in college. "They were fun and...and wonderful guys!" Rory cringed at the words she used to describe them.
"Fun and wonderful?" Tristan tried to stop himself from laughing out loud at her description. If anyone woman had described him as fun and wonderful he would have shot himself. "Whoohoo! Let the good times roll there, Gilmore." He twirled his finger in celebration.
"You don't even know Ken or Roger," Rory said in disgust. "What right do you have to judge them?"
Ken and Roger. Oh please. Please.
Tristan breathed in and out, trying to stop himself from the fruitless task of laughing at those names. "Ken and Roger?" He bent over and burst out laughing. "Oh, I'm sure they were party animals," he chuckled, wiping away the tears.
"I don't know why I bothered," Rory sighed, slipping off the stool. "You haven't changed at all."
Tristan's eyes widened as he realized his bit of fun had chased Rory off. "Wait," he called out, throwing a couple of bills on the counter to cover his bill. "Rory!" He chased her down, as she stalked up toward the boardwalk.
Rory spun around and faced him, livid at hearing what he might have to say next.
She didn't need this grief over her love life.
"I'm sorry," Tristan said, hanging his head in shame. "I wasn't making fun of you."
"You weren't?" She looked at him skeptically. "You could have fooled me."
"I wasn't," he said sincerely. "I just...the names..." He threw his hands up, unable to explain. "They sound like accountants," he blurted out.
Rory bit the inside of her bottom lip. She had to admit, now that she wasn't dating them, that their names did sound like they belonged to the local union of CAs. Lowering her eyes, Rory told herself it wasn't right. They were great guys.
She felt the corners of her lips curl slightly.
"See!" Tristan exclaimed, jumping up in triumph over the little smile. "You do think they sound like accountants' names!"
Rory's head shot up and she gave him an somewhat evil glare. "But I know them," she challenged, trying to keep a straight face. "So, I-I get to...laugh." Even to her own ears the logic seemed a little bit on the insane side. She watched Tristan break down laughing again.
"You know what Rory?" Tristan placed his hands on her shoulders, looking squarely into her eyes. "I've never met another girl like you."
"That's quite the compliment, considering all the women I'm sure you've bedded."
"Mary, the thoughts you've been having," he chided, his voice lowering as one would to a lover.
Rory rolled her eyes, attempting to put some space between them as he pulled her closer. "Tristan." She felt uncomfortable under his scrutinizing gaze, feeling his warm breath against her neck, as his lips brushed against her ear.
Tristan held her close to him. "You don't have to worry, there's only one Mary in my life." He tilted her chin upward so that she would meet his gaze. "I'm sure you've always known that..."
Rory felt her stomach flip flop, as his finger and thumb forced her gaze to remain upon him. "I..." Her breath hitched as she was astutely aware of his body in close proximity to hers. She knew she needed to escape before something happened that she did not want.
But Rory found herself unmoved.
Tristan never felt he had a more captive audience than he did right then. And he couldn't have been more pleased. He had once dreamt of kissing Rory after their first kiss at Madeline's party, but then he had been sent off to military school. He had another chance, except he had ruined it by breaking into that safe...
Now he had a second chance.
Rory swallowed hard; her heart was racing in anticipation of what seemed inevitable. Closing her eyes, she surrendered to the warmth that emanated from his body. The ruckus of voices and music dissipated as he caressed her cheek and tentatively pressed his lips against hers. His free arm slipped around her waist and pulled her against his body. A small gasp escaped her lips as she tilted her head slightly and allowed her lips to part so that his gentle, probing tongue could gain access. Rory slid her arms around his neck and pulled his head down, turning the once innocent kiss into something more akin to passion.
Her lips, the feel of her body moulded to his was more than he anticipated; Tristan was simply intoxicated by her. His tongue danced with hers, each caress and flicker intent on seducing her into the same overwhelming desire he was feeling. How he wished he could stay like this forever.
Rory pulled away to catch her breath, clutching his unbuttoned shirt. Suddenly she was jarred back to reality by the luminous lanterns hovering around her. Breathing heavily, she locked eyes with Tristan, who seemed eager to once again begin his exploration of her mouth. "I'm sorry," she whispered hoarsely. "I didn't mean for this to...to get out of hand."
Before Rory could turn heel and run, Tristan quickly grabbed her wrist and spun her around. "You're not running away from me again, are you Rory?" He arched one eyebrow, half-teasing, half-serious. He wasn't going to let it happen, not again.
Her head was swirling with unexpected thoughts and emotions. What was she doing? This was the guy who had forever labelled her 'Mary', a name that had followed her until she had graduated high school.
She had lost herself too easily in his arms, in his kiss. "I don't want this," she muttered under her breath, trying to argue with the lingering effects of his touch. She was lost in her own thoughts.
"Really?" Tristan's hand fell to his side; his teeth clenched as he felt the sting of her words. "It sure felt that way a few moments ago, Rory," he said quietly, stepping back from her.
Rory's eyes widened, realizing that her internal protests had been voiced out loud. "Tristan, I didn't mean..."
"Why don't you make it up to me?" He bent down, until his eyes met hers. "I think you know exactly what you want," he purred. "Since when did you start becoming so indecisive?"
"I...I..."
"Look, I'm staying at the Westin Maui Resort," he whispered intimately. "If you happen to change your mind..."
Rory's eyes widened at his suggestion and she averted her gaze, glancing around to see if anyone had heard his inappropriate proposal.
"My room number is 1541." With the crook of his finger, he raised her chin until she was looking into his eyes again. "Live a little, Mary," he said, challenging her slightly conservative view of the world. He lowered his head, nipping her bottom lip, teasingly, all the while keeping his eyes locked on hers.
"I promise I won't bite," he said, pulling away. "Not unless you want me to."
Rory was left standing on the boardwalk watching Tristan walk away.
-&-
"He what?" Lane was left wide-eyed and slack-jawed. "And what are you still doing here?"
Rory looked at Lane with uncertainty and confusion. "He wants me to have a one night stand with him." She thought that would be explanation enough.
"And did I not make my stand clear this afternoon about what I thought about that?" Lane stared at her quite seriously for a moment before a sympathetic smile emerged. She turned her back on Rory and walked towards the bathroom to prepare for bed. "Just because I have to wait until I am married before I have sex doesn't mean you have to," she muttered with half-hearted resentment.
"No one's forcing you to stay celibate." Rory pointed out; she stood in the middle of the hotel room, her arms folded across her chest, as she unconsciously touched her still swollen lips.
Lane's face peered around the corner, her brow arched with a look of disbelief. "Are you kidding me?" She then retreated. "My mother would die of a heart attack if I slept with a guy!"
"So don't tell her." Rory studied herself in the mirror, using her critical eye to discern what it was about her that refused to give in where Tristan Dugrey was concerned. "You've done it for most of your life..."
"That's not the same thing," Lane yelled, her voice muffled by the sound of brushing her teeth. "And you know it."
Rory shook her head and chuckled. She knew full well that as much as Lane complained about the religious stuff her mother force fed her from birth and the strict rules, deep down, Lane held a certain respect for it and her mother. Even after fighting for some independence to think and act as Lane felt right, there were parts of what her mother believed that managed to stick. Lane had never slept with any of her several boyfriends - third base maybe...
"Rory, why not take a chance?"
Rory turned around to see Lane with her hair in pigtails, shoulders slumped, standing with a look of confusion on her face. "Lane..."
Lane marched over to her. Her eyes narrowed and she looked Rory up and down.
"What?" Rory was disturbed by her friend's behaviour. She backed up a few steps, as her personal space was being violated. "Geez," she waved her arms frantically, "stop doing that! You're freaking me out!"
Lane straightened her posture, rolling her shoulders back and folding her arms across her chest; the expression on her face was one of a detective, who had just solved a case. "You're afraid it might be more..."
Rory's eyes widened in disbelief and then contorted into an expression that conveyed her feelings at the moment of 'Are you insane?'. "With Tristan there isn't 'anymore'." She knew it was a generalization, which she was very confident in many years ago, but now it just didn't seem to hold water, not that he hadn't given signs of it being true. It just felt wrong to put someone in a box after not seeing them for five or six years.
"And that was how long ago?"
Rory opened her mouth to protest, but slowly closed it, unable to find a witty retort to something she had just thought mere seconds before.
What was she thinking?
-&-
What am I thinking? Rory glanced nervously around, as she couldn't believe where she was standing. She chewed on her bottom lip and began head back the way she had come. Then she stopped midstride and glanced at the foreboding door again. What are you so afraid of?
She strode up to the door and raised a tentative hand...
-&-
Tristan snatched the ice bucket and room card sitting on the dresser and opened the door into the hallway. He was taken aback when he found himself face to face with Rory Gilmore. After recovering from the shock, Tristan tilted his head slightly and leaned up against the door, smiling. "Ror, what are you doing here?" His heart leapt up in his throat, imagining what her arrival meant.
Her eyes stared up at him uncertainly, as her lips parted to say something, but nothing came out.
He stepped in closer, his fingertips caressing her cheek. His eyes locked with hers; they swirled in a mixture of fear, excitement and desire. Cupping the back of her head with his free hand, Tristan captured her lips; his need and lust for this woman were laid bare in the act. He led her into the room, their lips still locked in a hot, searching kiss, closing the door behind them. Discarding the ice bucket with a flick of his wrist, Tristan slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her body against him.
"Oh god." He heard her gasp, as his lips trailed along her smooth jaw line and down the curve of her neck. "Tri-stan." Her breath hitched, as his teeth found her tender earlobe and teased it delightfully. Her hands ran up his back, pressing into him, as if wanting to feel his every muscle, until her fingers grasped the back of his head and tilted her head back, allowing him access to the soft skin of her throat.
Leading her back toward the king-sized bed, Tristan kept her plied with tantalizing kisses, praying that she would not suddenly change her mind. He felt himself aroused by the warmth of her hips rubbing against his. His groan was muffled as he moved his lips back to hers. "I want you so much," he breathed hotly into her ear, causing her to whimper, obviously aroused by his admission.
"Tristan." Suddenly he felt her push gently against his chest, her head twisting to the side, as she panted heavily. "Wait," she whispered, pushing harder this time.
He squeezed his eyes tightly as he willed himself to stop. Oh how he didn't want to. But he had never done something with a girl she didn't want.
Not that this happened very often.
"What?" Tristan asked urgently, wanting to explore every inch of her trembling body . With his hands on either side of her head, he gazed down at her flushed face, her lips swollen from his barrage of kisses. His head dipped as he captured her lips briefly, and then as he returned to his previous position, his upper body hovering over her.
"I..." She swallowed hard, reaching up to run her fingers through his hair.
It caused a shiver to run down his spine. If her mere caress could do that to him...
"Do you want to stop?" He hoped there was no hint of his disdain at the thought. Searching her face, Tristan looked for a trace, a sign of regret or hesitation; she propped herself up on her elbows and looked up at him with those innocent blue eyes and smiled.
"No," she laughed softly. A mischievous glint flashed in her eye. "I just wanted to be sure you would...if I asked."
"Of course I would," he smirked, tilting his head to the side. "What do you take me for, Rory?" He frowned at her pretending to be dismayed at her accusation.
Rory reached up and slowly began to unbutton his Hawaiian shirt, though her eyes never left his. "A cad? A playboy?" Her brow raised suggestively, as her slender fingers undid the final button. "All true according to many Chilton alumni," she teased. "Girls and boys."
Tristan narrowed his eyes at the unsettling innuendo, while slipping off his shirt with ease, and pushed her back down onto the plush, white down pillow. "You are sorely mistaken, Mary," he chided, gently sliding his fingers underneath the hem of her lace chemise. He heard her gasp, as his knuckles brushed the flat of her stomach. Straddling her, he inched the chemise up, very slowly revealing her pale skin, even though she had been out in the sun for the past couple of weeks. He watched her, as her eyes were glued on his agile fingers gathering the silky material in his hands. "I'm definitely a good boy," he said huskily, acutely aware that his hips were now resting against hers.
"Really?" She rested her hands on top of his, causing him to halt the ever so intriguing slow strip tease.
He nodded. "Isn't that what you like?" he grinned, wiggling his eyebrows.
She tilted her head to the side and furrowed her brow. "Oh, I didn't know."
It was his turn to frown in confusion.
"I would have never come to your room if I had known you'd turned into one of those boring boys," she waved her hand in the air, "who, how did you so aptly put it? Are safe?" Her eyes twinkled, as she laughed, delighting in her little joke.
"I'll show you safe," he growled, tugging her chemise off and assaulting the nape of her neck with a tirade of nips and kisses. "You're going to know exactly how bad a boy I can be."
-&-
"So did you tell him you're leaving?" Lane scanned the hotel room for missed items, as she packed her suitcase in preparation for tomorrow's afternoon departure. "I think you should tell him before we leave."
Rory rolled up the last of her clothes and put it into her suitcase, securing the metal clasp attached to the elastic straps, which would keep her clothes from dislodging from its location and unfolding. She frowned, knowing she had forgotten something, but could not quite recall the item.
"Rory." Lane watched as Rory meticulously packed her clothes and souvenirs of the summer vacation, ignoring her question.
"What?"
"Tristan?" Lane reminded tentatively. She played with a shell necklace, which she had received from one of the locals, unsure how to proceed. "Are you going to see him tonight?"
Rory zipped up her suitcase, letting out an exasperated sigh, irritated that she could not remember what she had forgotten. "What do you mean?" She dropped the heavy suitcase on the floor with a thud and looked up at her friend.
The whole vacation had been wonderful. She couldn't have asked for more. And now Lane was trying to ruin it?
Rory didn't want to think about him. Not now.
"We're leaving at one o'clock tomorrow, Rory."
Rory shrugged. "So?" She blinked unconcernedly at Lane.
Rory had managed to keep herself busy with the organization of her packing, as well, as keeping appointments with her mother and grandparents for lunch and dinner; and so she had no time to think about Tristan and his feelings...or hers for that matter.
She decided she liked it like that.
Lane raised a skeptical eyebrow. She knew her best friend and not caring was not in her repertoire of emotions.
Rory rolled her eyes and bent down to push her suitcase to the hallway, so that it would be easy access for the bellhops. "Don't look at me like that," she grunted, as she put all her weight behind the suitcase. "I really don't have time to see him."
Lane stuffed the necklace into her carry-on and slung it over her shoulder, pulling her own suitcase off the bed and towards the hallway. "You two looked pretty cosy last night and for the past week for you not to," she said softly. Rory had been on cloud nine after her first night with Tristan. When she had woken up the next morning to find Rory missing, Lane had been quite surprised, since her friend hardly ever took her advice on her love life.
"It's a summer fling," Rory said casually, glancing over her shoulder at Lane. "We had a good time - no strings attached."
"For something that was no strings attached, you guys seemed extremely attached." Lane dropped her carry-on on the floor. "Like Siamese twins attached."
Rory looked at her incredulously. "It wasn't that bad." She turned around and sat down on her suitcase, catching her breath from the physical exertion, and tucked a stray lock of hair that had escaped her hair elastic grasp behind her ear. "We had a few fun nights," she flicked her hand dismissively. "Nothing serious."
"Then how come you just didn't talk to him this afternoon, when he rang our room?"
Lane had just finished taking a shower when she overheard Rory tell the concierge to tell the man downstairs that she was unavailable for the day. It was then that her previous suspicions had been confirmed; Rory had begun to fall for Tristan.
"I was busy getting ready for our lunch with Mom and my grandparents," Rory huffed defensively, although she was unable to meet Lane's piercing gaze. "It wasn't because I was afraid to see him." She shifted uncomfortably from side to side.
"Okay," Lane said slowly, deciding to back off. She could see that Rory was getting a little testy and in that state, her friend wouldn't listen to anything she had to say. "It was because you were busy."
"It was." Rory nodded emphatically. "So can we get off this subject?"
"Okay, we will. If you answer this one question for me."
Rory began to bounce up and down, feeling restless and cooped up in the hotel room. "Fine," she said, folding her arms across her chest. "Let's get it over with." Waving her hand at Lane, she gestured for her to ask the question.
"Are you leaving without saying goodbye?"
-&-
Tristan strode confidently past the front desk, as if he belonged there, keeping his eyes straight ahead, trying not to make any eye contact. The cool evening had made him restless as he wandered aimlessly along the pristine sands. He felt like something was missing. It wasn't until the waters rolled into a silky black that he knew what it was.
"Excuse me." A dark broad-shouldered man in his forties stepped out into Tristan's path.
This caused him to stop midstride and pull back. The man was in a light grey suit - which looked Armani or at the least Ralph Lauren to him - and wore a wary smile. Tristan plastered on his best smile and tilted his head casually. "What can I do for you?" He tried to keep his tone smooth and with a slight hint of arrogance.
"I don't believe we've met," the man held out his hand, "I'm Dan, the concierge."
"Hello Dan," Tristan said, clipping his words. "The concierge."
Dan smiled briefly before returning to his previous blank but polite expression. "I don't believe I've seen your name in our guest registry." His delivery of the accusation was subtle and smooth.
"Well maybe you should have another look, Danny boy," Tristan said curtly, his eyes darting over to the elevators, in case he would have to make a dash for it. "Dugrey. Tristan Dugrey."
Dan raised a skeptical brow and nodded. "If you would just wait a moment..." He held up his index finger and turned to walk over to the front desk. "Chrissie, could you..."
"Tristan!"
Both he and the concierge turned at the surprising voice of recognition.
"Lane." Tristan casually slipped his arms around the petite Korean woman and embraced her, all the while watching the somewhat confident expression on the smug concierge turn ashen and pale. "How are you?" He pulled away and looked down to see the confused expression on her face. "I was just telling Dan how wrong he was, accusing me of not being a guest at this resort."
Lane dark brown eyes looked up at him and then darted over to Dan, whose arms were folded across his chest, and back to him. After a moment of silence, her tanned brow raised, as if a light had just been switched on. "Oh, yes. Tristan is a guest." She nodded fervently. "In fact, Rory was just about to come down," Lane said slowly, her eyes locked with his.
"Well, I was just coming up to see what was the wait," Tristan smiled, playing along with whatever plan Lane was hatching. "But if she's coming down..."
Lane smiled brightly, a mischievous glint in her eye, and bounced up happily at his reply. "Just let me check on her again and see if she's ready."
Tristan nodded slowly, and turned to see Dan return to his place behind the front desk; he smiled, satisfied with the show he and Lane had just put on. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Lane busily chatting away on the house phone. The whole plan to sneak up and surprise her at her hotel room had been the catalyst of her earlier rejection that day. It had been easy arranging meetings with her since their first night, but then she unexpectedly and almost coldly turned him down when he suggested an afternoon dalliance.
Part of him worried she had suddenly grown tired of him.
"She'll be down in a sec," Lane said, walking towards him.
"Does she know she's meeting me?"
Lane opened her mouth to reply but no words came out.
Tristan felt his stomach flip-flop. "Why wouldn't you tell her it's me?" He tried to hide the edginess in his voice. "Is something wrong with her?" he asked darkly.
"No." Lane smiled and shook her head placatingly. "It's not that," she said reassuringly. "In fact, she's said given you "
"Really?" Tristan smiled, his interest piqued. "What kind of compliments?"
Lane was about to answer when the elevator chimed.
"Lane?"
Tristan spun around just in time to see Rory step off the elevator. Her hair was loosely pinned up, with soft wispy tendrils framing her face. She was in a baby blue sarong and white tank top.
"Over here," Lane sang, waving her over.
The expression on Rory's face could have been described as something less than pleased.
"Tristan."
-&-
It wasn't about Lane. Really it wasn't.
Rory knew she wasn't upset at what Lane had tried to accomplish by tricking her into coming down to the lobby. Part of her knew it was inevitable - saying goodbye to Tristan - she just didn't think it would come so soon.
'You had to do it sometime.' At least that was what Lane had told her as her best friend had pushed Tristan and her out of the hotel lobby.
"Penny for your thoughts." She hadn't spoken much since they had left the hotel. It had made him nervous...like he hadn't been already. "All right," he nudged her with his hip after no response, "I'll make it a whole dime."
"You're going all out Dugrey," Rory chuckled softly, glancing demurely from under her lashes. "That must be why I am..." Her voice trailed off. She caught herself almost saying something that she did not want to be saying. She blinked several times, stopping midstride. What? What would be so horrible to say?
Sighing softly, she shook her head and moved forward to continue their walk down the empty beach.
"Why you are what?" Tristan grabbed her wrist and spun her around so he could look at her face to face. The pale shimmer of the evening moon illuminated her face; the light off the water danced in her clear, blue eyes. She just stood there, staring at him with wispy, questioning gaze. Suddenly he had the urge to touch her in that intimate way, he had perfected after their nights of passion. Reaching up, his thumb brushed against the fullness of her lip, as his eyes remained locked on hers, tracing the outline of the soft tissue, which he found could be brought to instant life with a brief kiss.
The touch was light, almost a caress; but surprisingly enough it made her heart leap into her throat. Rory swallowed hard and fought the feeling that was threatening to envelop her right then, as they stood looking into each other's eyes. She couldn't have fallen that fast. It just wasn't true. Pushing down the overwhelming urge to run, a slight smirk emerged upon her lips and she lowered her eyes, breaking from his intense gaze. "Why I am," she cleared her throat, "I am giving you the time of day Dugrey." Rory took a step back and grinned. Her tone was playful and light, even though that was hardly the case.
"Really Mary?" Tristan drawled. Her demeanor had changed slightly, though he could still tell that something was eating at her. But he would play along...for now. "And I thought you were just attempting to reform the wicked in me."
"Well, that would take longer than the summer, and that's all we have." Rory bit her bottom lip. Had. She closed her eyes and turned towards the gentle roar of the surf rolling in.
"Now don't go all dark and morose on me, Ror." He tried to keep his tone light and detached. Showing his hand before knowing the rules of the game could be dangerous. "We've been having fun, haven't we?" he asked tentatively, slipping his arms around her waist and pulling her close. She didn't turn to face him, instead they both just stared out into the black, velvet sky, sprinkled with tiny, dazzling lights.
Tilting her head to the side, Rory swayed back, allowing herself to lean against his strong frame. She rested her hands on top of his, and they began to gently rock from side to side. The cool breeze coming off the ocean felt soothing, as she allowed herself to relax in his arms.
Her hair smelled of sweet nectar and vanilla. It was strong, yet not overwhelming. He loved how she smelled; he loved being close enough to discover whatever new scent had intermingled with her own.
His lips trailed softly along the curve of her neck, nipping her milky, soft skin with innocent kisses. Tristan felt her body tremble momentarily, and enjoyed pulling her closer, willing whatever caused the brief chill out of her body. The stillness of this moment felt so good.
"I'm leaving tomorrow," Rory whispered, allowing the rush of words to tumble past her lips. When they were out, she bit her bottom lip, holding her breath for his reaction.
There had been so many from him, at least in her mind. Rory knew there were really only two scenarios that could possibly occur. Tristan would remain cool and detached, wishing her well or he could tell her that she had meant more to him than a fling. She frowned. Were those the only two scenarios?
Tristan straightened up immediately at her announcement. He felt his chest tighten and his stomach flip flop. Leaving? Stepping in front of her, his hands grasped her shoulders until he stood squarely in front of her. "You're leaving?" His voice was strained, as he willed himself to speak.
Rory tried to turn away, not wanting to look into those penetrating eyes, which would reveal to her whether she had meant anything to him. She didn't want to know...not yet.
Tristan furrowed his brow at the silent response. With his index finger, he turned her head towards his, forcing her to meet his questioning gaze. "You're leaving." It was more of a statement the second time around.
Rory felt like her knees were about to give way under his scrutinizing gaze. "Yes," she replied, taking a step back, finding his hands had dropped to his side. "Our flight leaves at one tomorrow." The breeze that hit her flushed face was a welcome distraction.
He watched as she walked to the water's edge and waded into it. Her arms were wrapped around her, as if protecting herself against the light breeze that caused her long, light, brown hair to flutter behind her. She seemed like a ghostly vision that had floated into his life, only threatening to vanish right before his eyes. "I didn't know you were the love'm and leave'm type, Rory," he teased half-heartedly, falling back on the easy non-committal banter.
Rory slowly turned to face him. "Must be the water," she answered awkwardly. "I don't think anything I've done on this island seems very 'Mary-like', has it?" She tried to sound cheeky, but found that it fell just a bit flat.
He caught her eye briefly and paused. "Not always a bad thing," he chuckled, trying to pull the somewhat serious conversation out of its' tailspin. "What do you think?"
Rory nodded. She didn't know why she was so on edge and invested in how Tristan responded to her announcement. Always-so-serious-Gilmore is what one of her ex's had dubbed her. Forcing herself to relax and take a lighter tone, Rory grinned wryly. "Well I have to have something to blame it on when I get back to Stars Hollow."
"Aw, Mary, I'm shocked!" Tristan came up along side her. The tension in the air had lifted somewhat. "Do you talk about such private things to just anyone?"
"No." Rory's mouth was agape, realizing how it had sounded. "You know what I mean," she slapped him playfully in the arm, relieved that he was just as uncomfortable with where their conversation had been going..
Tristan raised a skeptical brow. "Do I?" He walked forward until he was wading ankle-deep in the water. "I don't know what you do in that little town of yours," he grinned, feigning indecision. "You could all be closet sex-pots, who by day are mild-mannered scholars and by night, wild sex fiends."
"Sex-pots?" She eyed him curiously. "Where did you get that?"
"You travel around Europe for a bit, you pick up a little bit of slang," he admitted sheepishly.
Rory laughed without reservation. "Next thing you know, you'll be calling kissing 'snogging', like some of the Yale students from Britain."
"Hey, don't knock the Europeans, they definitely know how to make dirty things sound reasonable," Tristan chided, wagging a finger at her. "I think that's one of their charms." He winked at her, as he grinned wickedly.
"So you prefer women with accents?" She looked him up and down, tapping her finger against her lips mulling over this new revelation. "Tsk tsk." Shaking her head in disapproval, she watched him demurely, as she waded backwards through the waters.
"I never said that," he began to protest.
"Then what are you saying?" Rory slowed to a halt and watched as Tristan drew closer, the cool water sending a shiver down her spine. "I think American women would love to know," she teased, as he stood with only millimetres between them. "What does Tristan Dugrey like in a woman?"
Tristan paused a moment, thinking about her very suggestive question; their conversation had changed tones quickly, and he wasn't quite sure whether she had intended to go where she was leading. "I like a strong woman," he answered slowly, tucking one stray lock of hair behind her ear. "She has to be able to challenge me, but not in an overbearing way." He paused a moment, waiting for her reaction; she just stood quietly as if waiting for him to continue.
"She needs to be confident and sweet all in the same breath," he continued on, taking another tentative step towards her. The closer he was to her, the harder it was to breathe. Rory felt her heart racing, as if she were running a marathon. Once again she was in a position to be seduced by the engaging eyes that were fixed upon her. She didn't think she was even breathing. She was captivated by the longing she saw within him. Her mind struggled to form coherent thoughts, as she leaned in closer to him. "Have you found anyone matching that description yet?" she breathed, swaying towards him.
Tristan didn't blink at the question. "Without question." Without hesitation, he cupped her face in his hands and pulled her to him, capturing her lips with his. His fingers slipped underneath the tangle of silky hair, and massaged the throbbing pulse that raced underneath his thumbs.
Rory rolled her head back, allowing him access to her bare neck; as she finally just gave in to the desire to have him near her, kissing her. He had happily welcomed the invitation with the pleasing sensation of his hot breath against her skin. Falling into him, her hands ran up along his collarbone and into his hair; letting out a sharp gasp for, as his mouth captured the hollow of her neck, sending her mind into a deep spiral. In just a few days Tristan had managed to locate every sense inducing juncture in her body, administering just the correct ministration to cause her body to convulse and shudder in pleasure.
Her mind was reeling, as it usually did when Tristan plied her with spine-tingling kisses. She could spend eternity in his arms, she thought, as his lips found hers again and lightly brushed up against them, waiting for her response. Gently biting his bottom lip and slowly and sensually tugging at, Rory waited to hear him groan slightly before her tongue darted past his lips and met his own searching tongue. Her eyes rolled back under her lids and she pulled back, gasping for air.
And in that moment, reality reared its ugly head again. You are leaving tomorrow.
Tristan was left slightly jarred, as the warmth of the body pressed urgently against him was suddenly wrenched from him. His arms dropped to their sides, aching to be filled again. Blinking several times before his head managed to clear from the intoxication of her kisses, he was left at a loss, confused by her sudden rejection. "Is there something wrong?" he panted heavily. He always seemed to be asking her that question.
Rory shook her head, biting her bottom lip, swollen from his kisses. "No," she protested, wrapping her arms around herself. "I need to go."
"But why?" He felt like the air was being sucked from his lungs, as she began to stumble away from him.
"I just need to go," she explained uncomfortably, her eyes glancing back towards the hotel. "My mom and grandparents will wonder where I am." Rory tucked her dishevelled hair behind her ears and smiled sheepishly. It was a bald face lie, but she didn't know what else to say.
Tristan had the same sinking feeling he had when he had watched Rory run from him at Madeline's party all those years ago. "They didn't when you spent the past four nights with me," he challenged, moving in to close the distance.
"This was a fling," she muttered, unable to meet his searching gaze. "Just a summer fling." She would start her very first job in Boston in three days. Where would he be? "Wasn't it?"
"You tell me, Rory." Besides their more intimate moments, he never imagined calling her anything but Mary; but everything had changed when she had announced the 'affair' was over. He had never felt like this before.
He had always known there was something special about her. In all of his relationships, he had never been able to leave the non-existent relationship he never had with her. Rory Gilmore had been the first to challenge him to be something more than the school's 'golden boy'; everyone at Chilton had always applauded his sexual prowess - both girls and guys. She hadn't given him the time of day for the strutting rooster act. "Do you want to leave it like this? Do you want to say goodbye?"
Rory opened her mouth to reply, but she wasn't sure what her answer was to that question. Finally she had regained some semblance of composure and asked, "Is there another option?"
"Of course there is."
"Really?" She stared at him warily. "What is it?"
"You could stay here with me," Tristan blurted out. It was the first thought that came into his head; it wasn't thought through, but he didn't want to walk away from him so easily this time.
"I thought you were leaving in a few days too?" she replied, tilting her head questioningly.
"I am," he nodded, "but it doesn't mean it has to end there..."
"We have lives outside of this little island, Tristan." Part of her was happy that he had asked her to stay with him...was asking her to stay with him. "It's time to come back to reality," she said tiredly, suddenly feeling the energy drain from her body.
Tristan studied her wind-kissed face and saw the writing on the wall. "You really know how to stick to the plan, don't you Mary." He couldn't hide the bitterness that he felt. "Who knew you could be a player too?" he retorted, resigning to go along with her choice. Ironically, how many times had he had this very conversation, except the tables were turned and he was the one walking away?
Except there weren't mutual feelings involved...and this time there is.
"I'm sorry," she whispered, unable to think of anyway to soften reality of it all.
"Don't apologize." He wouldn't let this end on a sour note, not with Rory. "It was fun while it lasted," he said, reaching out and slipping his fingers through hers. "Wasn't it?"
Rory felt her chest tighten, as she met his gaze and nodded, knowing this was probably the last time she would see him. "You know you're making this harder to say goodbye, don't you?" she laughed bitterly.
Tristan smiled softly. "I guess you didn't do such a good job at reforming after all, Mary," he said wryly, kissing her slender hand.
"Oh I think it would take a lot more than me to reform the likes of you, Tristan Dugrey." Rory reached up and caressed his cheek gently, regretting that their paths would most likely never cross again. "If military school didn't do it, then I don't know how I could," she teased.
"Oh, but I think you could have," Tristan replied wistfully. "Given time."
There was a silent lull that fell between them, as they remained standing on the white sands underneath the retreating rays of the moon, which was giving way to the warm orange and crimson hues creeping over the horizon. Both dreading the goodbyes.
Rory finally stirred and exhaled slowly, smiling up at Tristan. "I guess it's time to say goodbye..." She folded her hands neatly in front of her and uncomfortably shifted her weight from side to side, unsure how to go about saying goodbye to a man she had grown so intimate with in a mere week.
"So I guess this is it, huh?" he declared, scratching his head and laughing uncomfortably. Tristan felt awkward after the roller coaster of emotions they had just experienced that night, only to end up as 'just friends'.
"Yeah, I guess so."
Tristan slipped his arms around the familiar curve of her waist, except this time, not in a passionate embrace. "It was good to see you, Mary," he said, squeezing her gently. His face was buried in her hair, which now smelled of a mixture of sea salt and vanilla.
"Yeah, I'm glad to see you've grown up a little," Rory said, pulling out of the embrace. "I never thought I'd see the day..."
Tristan laughed. "Yeah, well, being in military school will do that to you."
"Who knew?" She grinned.
"Here, let me walk you back to the hotel," he offered, slipping his arm around her. "I wouldn't want you to worry the parentals."
"Yeah, I'm sure that's the first thing that came to mind," Rory said drolly, as she found the hand that hung over her shoulder and entwined her fingers with his, strolling back towards her hotel.
"Hey, I'm as 'innocent as babes'." He nudged his hip against hers, causing them to swerve slightly to the left.
"Yeah, and Paris isn't still controlling." She joined in his laughter at the innocent slight at their old friend.
Rory watched Tristan out of the corner of her eye as they neared the hotel. She never thought him as possible boyfriend material, but if things had been different...if they had been as they were now, she couldn't help but believe she could have fallen for the guy. Letting out a pensive sigh, Rory forced herself to think about the 'what ifs' and rested her head against his chest.
-&-
Her summer fling movie ending definitely held no semblance to that of Grease or Cocktail.
"Thanks for helping me move into the new apartment, Lane." Rory smiled warmly at her best friend, as they headed to the best coffee shop in Boston, as a reward.
"Since when is coffee a reward for me," Lane asked curiously. "I'm not the one with the caffeine addiction."
"Well, Lane," Rory said, opening the door to Ilene's Brewery. "It's a well known fact that..." As she was about to walk into the coffee shop, she hadn't noticed the figure who was carrying two coffee cups, rushing through the door - the styrofoam cups went flying, spilling all over her.
"I'm so sorry," a familiar voice apologized profusely.
Rory gritted her teeth as her shirt and jeans were drenched in coffee. She leaned forward, wringing the sticky, clingy fabric in front of her, trying not to get any on her sneakers. "That's okay," she said tersely. "I'm fine."
"I..."
"Uh, Rory..." Lane jabbed her in the ribs, causing Rory to jump.
"What?" she sighed, turning to glare at her friend, while wiping her sticky hands on her already wet jeans.
Lane's face was pale, as her index finger pointed subtly at the stranger, who had run into her.
Rory furrowed her brow, confused at why Lane was reacting so weird. She turned her head and looked up to speak with the boorish man, who had run into her; when she felt the blood drain from her own face.
The azure blue eyes. The charming grin. "Tristan." Her jaw dropped.
"Hello Rory."
Apparently her life was like a summer blockbuster movie...
THE END