CHAPTER 15

Rory sat on Tristin's bed and looked around the room. His side of the room was a reflection of the man she got to know at the beginning of last summer. It was very personable despite its almost showroom appearance. There were a couple of schoolbooks and novels on the shelf accompanied with various CD jewel cases of the latest alternative rock bands. However, it was the pictures adorned on the wall adjacent to the bed that caught Rory's eye. One was of the rainbow she saw at the bottom of the waterfall. Another was a picture of her, Graham and Tristin right before she had to see her grandfather in the hospital. Then there was one of her: just right before they talked about the most abused word in the world. She smiled. Where did those days go?

A cramp in her stomach caught her attention. She guessed she was hungrier than she thought.

"It's okay, baby. We're going to eat soon," she muttered to her belly as she gave it a rub. She can't see any real overt physical changes other than the fact that her breasts were fuller and that some of her skinner clothes are getting tighter in places she never thought would ever expand. The shirt and shorts Tristin loaned her might as well be a muumuu on her but she could not be any happier wearing them. Now, where did Tristin go to get those sodas?

Tristin got a hold of himself. He got off the floor and splashed his face with cold water. He never thought that the sting of the cold fluid would actually do him some good. He stared at his blood-shot eyes though the reflection on the mirror. 'God, why do I do this to myself?' he asked himself. He ran his fingers under the waterspout. He vacillated between telling Rory that he's not ready to commit to something so big. But on the other hand, if Graham had already made his move on her someone else was bound to try and play her hero.

A baby. It's such a great commitment. He thought Rory brave for keeping the child. His dad had always thought of him as a mistake and he wished his mother was strong enough to walk away from his father and his wealth and raise him differently. But if it weren't for what his current past was, he wouldn't be where he is standing now. He knew he can't be a bastard like his father. Tristin made his decision. He tore a wad of paper towel from the dispenser and dried his face and his hands. He promised Rory drinks and that's what she's going to get.

And Tristin found himself standing in front of his dorm room door. His hands were clammy despite the fact that the hallway felt like it had become a hundred degrees warmer. He grabbed a couple of sandwiches from the dining hall. A few guys from the hall ribbed him as he stood there like a statue.

"Dude, if she's chained up, she's already waiting on you. Don't be a chicken," one said.

"And if she doesn't want to play, send her our way. I know your taste in women... Wow, muy caliente!" another one commented.

He sneered at them. He didn't like letting them know that she is not like the tramps he slept with. If there isn't a time to call himself a Lothario, it would be now.

He knocked on the door hesitatingly. He thought she was asleep. He was fishing his keys out of his pocket when she opened the door. She looked a little better dry but she still looked ashen.

"I thought you lost your way back here," Rory said nervously. She sat back on Tristin's bed sitting cross-legged.

"I'm sorry. The dining hall was busier than I thought," he lied. "Hope you like chicken sandwiches."

Rory wrinkled her nose. She didn't like the taste of chicken since the pregnancy but she's too hungry to really care. "I'll eat anything right now that resembles edible."

"We can cook something if you prefer that," he offered. "I can go to the store and get groceries."

"No, no, that's okay. The sandwich will do," she said, chomping down on the cold sandwich. It wasn't as bad as she thought it would be. Now if the baby would just stop giving her wincing jabs.

Tristin sat on the other side of the bed and handed her a drink.

"So, tell me about the baby," he ordered as he got settled.

Rory didn't know where to start. 'Maybe the truth, Rory,' she said to herself. "I found out last week..."

She tried to tell Tristin every detail she could divulge. For some odd reason she cannot bring herself to reveal the father of the child. She remembered what Paris told her: don't hurt Tristin. He didn't have to know that Dean was the father.

She was glad he didn't ask.

Hours later in deep discussion, they noticed the halls quieted down. Rory looked at the clock and noticed it was almost midnight.

"How insensitive of me. You still have to study for your class!" Rory exclaimed.

"It's okay, Rory. There are things that are more important," he said, covering her hand.

"I know you're smart, Tris, but if you are that great, you wouldn't need college," Rory humored him.

"Ah, but lucky you, what is scheduled tomorrow are fly classes. I can be a little flexible. And if you're a good girl, I might even start the weekend a lot sooner and play hookie," he bribed her.

"Does than mean that you're not angry with me?" she fished. Then she winced. Maybe she asked too soon.

"I can't get angry with you," he answered with reverence. "I told you, the baggage that accompanies you prior to the arrangement is taken at face value. You can't lose points with me, babe."

Rory was humbled. She crawled towards Tristin. She kissed him lightly on the lips; so lightly, her tongue barely grazed his lip.

His eyelids closed as she kissed him. He felt like she stole his breath and he had to take it back from her. He kissed her back, guiding her face closer to him. If fireworks ever existed in magical moments, this was one of them. Everything felt so surreal to him. The whole experience was so transcendent he might as well compare it to the first time... well, when he was a virgin.

He guided her body next to him. She felt exquisite. He proceeded to work his charms on her until he ran the palm of his hand on the plain of her stomach. His hand stopped roving. He pulled away from her. A whimper escaped from Rory's lips. They stared at each other's eyes. Tristin had never seen disappointment this badly before.

"Is it the baby?" she asked.

"Let's just go to sleep, love. We can talk more tomorrow," he whispered.

He called her "love". Rory's heart sang. She arranged the pillow under her head. Tristin slipped the sheets over them.

"Good night, Rory," he said.

"Good night, Tristin. See you in the morning," she muttered.

He kissed her on the forehead before turning the desk lamp off.