AN: You guys rock! I love encouragement. . . and you must be rewarded right? As promised, Tristan makes his presence known to our heroine. . . enjoy.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

She jolted up, the left side of her face warmed from having been pressed into her pillow for an extended amount of time. She yawned, and stared at the door. She was completely groggy and fairly disoriented. Jet lag was not her friend.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

"Meeting in five!" came the only slightly familiar voice from the other side of her door. She heard a fainter knocking a moment later, presumably from the next door down.

She glanced up at her alarm clock, and sure enough, it was five 'til eight. She'd gotten most of her suitcases unpacked, getting sheets on the bed, books on shelves, and toiletries stored. All the necessities were in place, just as she liked it. She felt uneasy until her living space felt homey, she'd always been that way. She'd changed into her pajamas early, deciding to take a quick nap before the meeting. She had been more exhausted than she realized, having slept for the past three hours.

Picking up her fuzzy green pillow with a frog wearing a tiara embroidered on it, she grabbed her key before making her way out into the hall. She followed the group of people making their way down to the lounge. It was fairly cozy, lined with couches and a television in the corner. Dan was standing by the television, eating out of a large bowl of popcorn. She smiled, noticing that he was wearing large slippers that had furry dog heads on the ends of them. He was wearing a robe over plaid, flannel pajamas. She herself had green frogs on her cream-colored flannel jammies. Everyone in the room had on some form of sleepwear, some leaning against pillows and covered up with blankets. One girl even had a large stuffed pig clutched under her arm. Rory giggled and sat down in an open spot on one of the couches.

"Okay, everybody, settle down!" he began, causing the chatter around the room to hush to a murmur before silence was achieved.

"Wow. Ten seconds or less. A new record," he nodded in approval. "Okay, well, welcome one and all. I'm Dan, your Floor Monitor. You should all remember meeting me, unless you were too jet-lagged at the time. Some of you looked pretty out of it, so I won't take it personally if your recollection is foggy.

So, I just have a few things to go over, rules and whatnot. You all seem to follow instruction well, with one notable exception. Young man, is there a reason you didn't want to play along with your fellow floormates?" he asked jokingly out into the crowd, obviously eying one person in particular. Everyone turned to see who Dan was looking at.

There on the arm of one couch sat a man dressed in jeans and a t-shirt.

"Sorry, I don't have any pajamas. I sleep in the buff."

"Well, in that case, thanks for sparing us," Dan laughed. "Everyone, steer clear of Mr. Dugrey's room in the mornings. That would be rule one," a round of laughter came from the crowd.

Rory, however, was too surprised to laugh. Her gaze was transfixed on the man in the jeans. She was completely stunned. She wondered if her overly tired mind was playing tricks on her.

"Okay, so looking around you may have noticed that we have both girls and boys here, and just one bathroom. Everyone is to please be respectful of the opposite sex; keep it covered up; no surprise attacks. I will come up with a fitting punishment for anyone who gets frisky," he smiled.

"As your Floor Monitor, I'm the only one with a bathtub and private bathroom. I will be taking bribes for anyone interested in using it. Special consideration will of course be made to any girls bearing bubble bath."

More giggles, and Dan held up his hands. "I'm kidding, money is always better than soap. Now, for the last very pertinent bit of information, having guests over. These walls, very thin. I know you all have single rooms, but you'll learn that very little will go unnoticed. Anyone caught performing the 'Walk of Shame' will be publicly and mercilessly mocked. I'm sorry, it's not my rule, I just enforce it."

Someone called out, "Are there any real rules, or can I get back to sleep?"

Rory smiled. It was obvious Dan was trying to tackle the main issues that living on a co-ed floor would face in a light hearted manner. She heard his words, but was still unable to pry her eyes off of Tristan. He was like a mirage, and she partially believed that if she took her eyes off of him, he'd vanish.

"Okay, my speech is over. If anyone has any questions, concerns, or just needs a suggestion of a good place to eat before the cafeteria opens when classes start next week, my door is open a lot. And I've been here for the last two weeks in training, so I know all the best places to eat and amuse yourselves. Class dismissed. Oh, and anyone with food willing to share, hang out here, please," he added.

Everyone began milling about, some people heading out to their rooms looking as tired as she'd felt a half an hour ago upon her sudden awakening. Her stomach growled loudly, reminding her that she'd missed dinner.

But she was still studying Tristan. He'd stood up, talking to a guy that had been sitting next to him on the couch, laughing. He must have felt eyes on him, as his gaze traveled slowly to meet hers. She looked away quickly, embarrassed to have him catch her staring. She waited a beat, hoping he had looked away, but as she allowed her eyes to wander back to him, she saw that he was looking at her. Not only was he looking at her, he was smiling.

A rush of warmth swelled up in her, and instantly she was torn between exiting back to her room quickly and sticking around to talk to him. She was curious to talk to him, as she hadn't seen or heard from her old classmate for four years. Not to mention their last conversation had been quite a memorable one.

"Rory, hey, cute frogs," Dan came up beside her, holding out the bowl of popcorn.

She took a handful, and popped the kernels into her mouth. "Thanks."

"So, get a good nap?"

"Too good. I missed dinner," she informed him, taking another handful of popcorn.

"So, you're going to eat all my popcorn?"

"I'll make it up to you. I have Pop tarts in my room. Anytime you want."

"Strawberry with frosting?"

"Oh, yeah, baby," she smiled as she snuck another handful. "This is good. Not from the microwave," she surmised.

"Nope. Air popper. It's my one luxury item."

"Like on Survivor?"

He smiled and laughed. "Exactly."

"My, my, Mary, if I'd known your stomach was the way to your heart, I'd have used that information to my advantage long ago," he came up beside her, still smiling knowingly.

He had caught her watching him, and now he was going to extract his payback.

"Mary?" Dan asked, clearly confused.

"Hey, Tristan," she said, now looking back at him.

"Long time no see," his eyes running over her flannel-clad body, making the full trip down and back up before meeting her eyes again.

"Okay, again I ask, Mary?"

"It's a pet name, she only answers to that for me," Tristan informed him.

"In your dreams, Dugrey," she rolled her eyes.

"Every night, Mary," he wasted no time in retorting.

Dan looked between them, unable to ignore the obvious vibe that was between the two. He patted them both on their backs. "And on that note, I'm going to go raid 306's stash of mini-candy bars. Goodnight you two."

"Did I hear you say you missed dinner?"

"If you were eavesdropping, then yes, you probably did."

"Still hostile I see," he chuckled.

"I'm not hostile. I just prefer to speak only to people that know my name."

"What, you can't handle a nickname?"

"Just not that particular one," she informed him. She'd been referred to by a nickname for the past six months. Logan's playful name for her had never bothered her. . . of course it hadn't been meant to be degrading. Tristan's on the other hand, had a way of making her feel 16 and awkward all over again. She squelched the gnawing feeling in her stomach.

"Would it make you feel better if you could call me something else?"

"Such as?"

"Many a girl has called out God's name in my presence. Just a suggestion."

"Goodnight, Tristan." She took a step back, holding her pillow to her chest.

"Wait, Rory. Hang on," he said, moving closer to her again, and putting his hand on her shoulder. She noticed his hands were large, covering her shoulder in warmth. She looked up at him expectantly.

"Can I buy you dinner? As friends," he said sincerely, not wanting to scare her out of saying yes.

She bit her lip, as if considering her hunger level. As if to give her away, her stomach growled loudly, causing him to smile.

"I think that's my answer. Now, are you planning on wearing this, or do you want to go change?"

"Fine. Dinner. Just as old friends, catching up."

"Don't forget dessert."

"I'm not sleeping with you, Tristan."

His eyes lit up with glee, though he tried to suppress it in his voice. "Now, I realize after all this time it might be hard to keep your hands off of me, but do you realize you just vocalized that thought out loud?"

She blushed, and fixed him with her best withering stare. He just smiled wider. "I'll meet you downstairs in ten minutes," she said finally, hating her loss of words. She turned and headed down the hall, padding in bare feet all the way. People were hanging out in their rooms, doors open, and music playing. Some people had again retired to bed, doors closed and DO NOT DISTURB written on white boards outside their doors. She got into her room, glad to have unpacked her clothes, and rifled through them quickly. Her phone rang as she was trying to assess the best thing to wear, and she picked it up hastily.

"Hello?"

"Hey! I'm awake, fill me in!"

"Mom, I can't talk now."

"But, you're up, and I'm up, and I want to hear all about London!"

"There's nothing to tell, and I'm going to be late if I don't get off the phone right this second!"

"Late for what?"

"Dinner."

"Dinner alone?"

"No, dinner with Tristan."

"Wow. You're there like six hours and already you've got a date?"

"It's not a date, Mom, it's Tristan. From Chilton."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! How dare you lie to your mother?"

"Can we do this later?"

"You sit there and say 'there's nothing to tell,' and all the while you're getting all gussied up for an evening out with a self-proclaimed sex god?"

"Have you met Tristan?"

"No, but you did your fair share of talking about him back then."

"I didn't talk about him. I complained about his unrelenting torment."

"Because he liked you."

"No, because he was an immature twit."

"And what is he now?"

"An immature frat boy, I would assume."

"Then why are you going to dinner with him?"

Rory paused, the line of reasoning that her mother had taken screaming that she had no good reason if all her statements were true.

"To confirm my assumption?"

"You're asking me?"

"I'm really hungry, and I know him. We were sort of friendly there before he left, and I don't know. It was nice to see a familiar face," she sighed.

"You lonely already?"

"Logan called. He wants to come over here."

"Oh, honey. What did you say?"

"Nothing, he got my voicemail. I haven't called him back yet."

"Are you going to?"

"I think so, to tell him not to come. You know him, he'll just fly out if he doesn't hear from me."

"That does sound like Logan," she agreed. "I can go have Luke work him over, make sure he can't walk onto a plane," she offered.

"No, I'll take care of it. Thanks."

"Anytime. Okay, go eat, and call me tomorrow."

"There won't be any juicy details."

"Never say never, my dear."

"Right. Night, Mom."

"Night. Love you, kid."

"Love you, too."

She threw her phone on her bed, deciding not to take it along. She didn't want to give herself the opportunity to answer, should Logan call again tonight. She'd take care of that tomorrow. Tonight she was just going out with an old friend and exploring London. She threw on regular clothes, and grabbed her purse, and headed downstairs as quickly as possible. She got to the main lobby to find Tristan leaning on the wall near the door. A sense of déjà vu hit her, and she could almost see him in the hallways of Chilton, leaning against the row of lockers. She smiled, realizing that it seemed to be a habit of his, leaning against things. As if he had trouble standing upright on his own volition.

"I'm all ready," she announced. He'd watched her approach, and he scanned her body again before standing up straight. She stood up a little straighter, and motioned to her clothes. "Better than the frogs?"

"I wouldn't say better. . . you looked cute in the frogs," he offered.

She blushed and shook her head. "Okay, your blood sugar must be low. Let's go get food," she said, moving past him to the door. He jogged to catch up, opening the door for her, and waiting until she passed under his arm and through the door before following along and into step next to her through the streets of London.