CHAPTER 3
It was about a quarter to eight when The Breakfast Club and Rory's group parted ways. Graham walked Rory and Paris back to their dorm rooms.
"So, what time is your first class?" Rory asked.
"I start after lunch. It's the only day that I actually get to sleep in," Graham admitted.
"Lucky you. I wish I had a similar schedule," Rory said with envy.
"But you don't have a Friday seven p.m. class," Graham guffawed.
"Ew, that sucks," Rory responded.
"I have a seven p.m. class," Paris chimed in.
"So you know how I feel when I see the rest of the students milling around when I have to get to a class," he smiled sympathetically at Paris.
"It does suck," Paris added unlocking to door to their room.
Graham took a sudden glance at Rory. "Are you okay?"
"What made you say that?" Rory asked trying to hide her state of discomfort.
"You're red. Are you catching a fever?" he asked as he laid the back of his hand on her forehead. His touch was cool to her skin.
"I'll be fine. I'm not a breakfast person and I think my stomach's revolting," Rory admitted.
"Hmm, if you're coming down with something, let me know. I can play doctor, you know," he flirted.
"Thanks for the offer, Graham. I assure you, I'll be fine," Rory calmed him.
"Alright. Is it okay to call you tonight? We can do something after my class," he asked.
"Sure. I can't guarantee you anything but a session at the library," Rory threatened.
"I'll take my chances," Graham said, smiling at her.
"Okay. Later, Graham," Rory said.
"Later, squirt," he said before walking away.
Rory closed the door behind her and leaned against it. She needed to get some antacids.
"I wish I had someone look at me like he looks at you," Paris commented dryly.
"Who? Graham? No, not Graham," Rory responded.
"But you're so quick to pass judgment. It means you like him, too?" Paris concluded as she donned a blouse on. "So who is the man?"
"Someone my grams set me up with on my Saturday finals," Rory replied nonchalantly.
"You think your grandma can set me up with someone like him?" Paris asked.
"I can set you up with him if you like," Rory offered.
"Remember last time you set me up? It ended up in a disaster," Paris deadpanned.
"It wasn't a disaster. You went home happy, didn't you?" Rory questioned.
"Until he said we're better of friends, yeah. So much for my happy ending," Paris' acrid response rolled out of her tongue.
"Well, he left anyways for another school so that point's moot, Paris. Okay," Rory said, "what if I ask Graham if he has any friends he can set you up with?"
Paris tapped her foot on the floor. "What are you suggesting, Rory?"
Rory shrugged. "A group outing?"
"I'll think about it," Paris considered before walking back to her room to apply her makeup.
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It was easy for Tristin to slip back into the character he once was: cool, calculated and cavalier. He looked at the redhead who shared his twin extra long bunk. She was still asleep from their early morning romp. What's her name again? Karen? Cailyn? It's not that he cared for her. She was nice. He met her at a freshman welcoming party. It's her first time out of Washington State and she wanted to become a psychologist. Despite her striking beauty and the obvious smarts, she would never replace the memory of one Rory Gilmore in his head.
He tried to recall how he eventually got over her. For the life of him, he can't remember anything except for that he fell into bouts of comatose sleep from pure physical and mental exhaustion while he was at the confines of the academy. And even then, she sometimes haunted his dreams. The fact that he didn't see her in three years helped the memories subside.
Tristin sat on the side of his bed and reached for his cell phone. He caught the ringing line of Graham's phone.
"What's up?" Graham asked. Tristin can tell he was in a good mood.
"You're chipper this morning. Did you hit the jackpot or something?" Tristin teased back.
"You cannot put a damper on my day, bud," he bragged.
"Really?" Tristin challenged. "Must be a good lay."
"Why does it have to be a lay every time?" Graham asked.
"Because that's what always makes me chipper in the morning," Tristin ironically retorted.
"You're a pig," Graham chuckled. "Seriously, what's up?"
"Just wanted to know how you're doing. We haven't talked in a while," Tristin said.
"That's not my fault," Graham responded.
"And it's mine?" Tristin defended. "I thought we're over that?"
"If you wanted to know whether or not I checked on Rory recently, Tris, just come out and say it. And yes, she's doing well. We just had breakfast not too long ago," Graham reported.
Silence came between them.
"Has she asked about me?" he asked.
"No," Graham muttered, sighing. He felt like Cyrano de Bergerac at the moment. "We made a pact not to talk about you."
Tristin winced. He hated Graham for stating the obvious.
"I thought we were the ones that made that pact?" Tristin said after a while.
"Yeah, until you insinuated that you wanted me to tell you that I hung out with her," Graham confided.
"Yeah, I guess the girl never left my head," he reminisced. Or his heart, he thought.
"Why don't you just call her?" Graham prodded.
"Too soon, Graham, too soon," Tristin sighed.
Graham and Tristin talked about classes for a short while before hanging up. Rory's name did not come up since then.
"Hey," the redhead greeted Tristin with her sleep-laced voice.
"Hey," he responded back.
"You look pensive," she observed.
"Just thinking about stuff," he vaguely responded.
She glanced at the bedside clock and sighed. "I've got to go. I have to get to class in fifteen minutes."
"Okay," he responded nonchalantly.
"Say, would it be okay if I come over tonight?" she asked.
"Not tonight, babe. I've got to work," he fibbed.
"Okay," she responded trying not to look disappointed as she wiggled into her jeans. "Call me then?"
"I will," he replied smoothly.
She smiled at him. She bent over and picked up the panties that lay on the floor and shoved it in her pocket. She mouthed "bye" to him before exiting the room.
Tristin got up from his bed and shoved his long legs into a pair of boxers. He took a quick turn and accidentally bumped his desk, knocking over some of his books. A picture he used as a marker spilled out from the pages of the novel he was reading. He picked it up and stared at the image. He gazed so intently that he didn't hear his roommate walk into the room.
"Nice outfit. Who's the chick?" the burly man asked over Tristin's shoulder.
"Oh, it's Rory, a girl I went to school with a long time ago... And that's me with my cousin last summer," Tristin explained.
"They go to school here?" he asked.
"No. They're both at Yale," Tristin responded tossing the picture on his desk.
"So your cousin is dating your old classmate? Small world, isn't it," he chuckled.
"Yeah. Something like that," Tristin responded with a hint of desolation.