AN: Back again. Work was slow, which you all should know by now means time to write. . . the only good aspect of my job. Enjoy!
It'd been her suggestion to walk back to the dormitory from the club. The entire evening had been perfect—she'd forgotten what it was like to enjoy someone's company with ease. There was nothing weighting her down, or hiding in the back of her mind. The only unspoken consideration was the gnawing excitement in her stomach at the possibility of a goodnight kiss. Walking back suspended both her invigorating feeling and his presence in her evening.
Halfway back, her pace slowed considerably as she was in heels and her feet began to ache. He paused and suggested they sit for a bit to rest, knowing she must be wanting to cut off her feet by this point. Those shoes, while very lovely, weren't the best for long walks. They were made for wearing for short periods and being flung across a room on the way to the bed. She smiled at his offer and they sat down on a bus stop bench.
"We can get a cab," he offered again.
"It's such a beautiful night, it'd be a shame not to enjoy it."
"So, are you?"
"Enjoying myself? Absolutely."
"And I bet you're surprised at that, aren't you?"
She blinked and indicated she didn't quite understand his comment.
"You used to loathe spending time with me," he reminded her.
"That's not true, I just," she hesitated in disbelief that she was going to admit this to him—she hadn't had that much to drink tonight. "I didn't trust myself around you."
She had a way of surprising him like no one else on earth. He was completely stunned by her comment.
"What do you mean?"
"You want an example?" she giggled softly.
He nodded, not trusting his capacity for speech at the given moment. He needed to pull it together, and he needed more information.
"I guess I didn't realize why my reaction to you was so strong until you kissed me at that party. I'd never let my feelings for someone cloud my better judgment before, but around you, it was like I didn't have a choice. When you left school, and you told me that you would've kissed me if Dean hadn't been there—I knew right then and there that I would have let you kiss me, regardless. And I'm not like that—I'm rational, and I put other people's feelings first, I think things out."
The intensity with which he watched her grew as she explained his effect on her. He could say in one word what she'd been so afraid of—lust. He wondered if she still suffered from such afflictions in his presence. There was really only one way to find out.
"Well, if I'd known you wouldn't have slapped me, I would have kissed you anyway."
"So, what's stopping you now?" she asked innocently.
He couldn't deny her logic, and thus answered her question by pulling her into his arms without hesitation. Perhaps he was proving to her that her fears were well-founded, but he didn't care. His intent hadn't been to make her lose herself in him—he'd just wanted the relief of her lips on his—but he felt the shift in the urgency of the kiss. In their urgency for one another. It wasn't until he paused for a breath that he realized they were outside on a bench, his hands in her hair and hers under the hem of his shirt. He smiled, and then laughed as she too realized their indiscretion. She buried her face into his chest, a little too embarrassed to check for anyone who might have seen them.
"You ready for that cab now?" he whispered, his voice low and suggestive.
She nodded, looking up into his eyes. She knew that he saw her willingness to continue, as well as the 'I told you so' at the proving of her point. He had known it would most likely be intense, their visceral reactions to one another, but nothing quite like what it was.
He obtained a cab, and helped her into it before following closely behind. Neither spoke during the short ride, but she hadn't let go of the hand he'd offered as she got into the back of the car. After a kiss like that, on a date that had gone so well, normally hand-holding would have been a step skipped, in place of his body over hers, kissing every exposed inch of skin in a preview of the skills he'd unleash once back at her place. Making her practically taste the anticipation of what his body was able to do to hers.
It hit him, as he stroked her palm with his thumb sending pleasured shocks up her arm, that he didn't want to skip steps with her. He'd never had a date that he wished wouldn't end, normally eager to hasten the outing so that he could get back to any darkened room with a bed. He'd never kissed anyone that left such a craving to duplicate that single sensation over and over again, not heightening his pleasure for pleasure's sake, but almost in awe of the kiss itself. He knew her holding his hand was her proper way of maintaining contact with him until they could be sufficiently alone. He was feeling the difference with her, one that he knew would exist, but he was just now realizing how much he would be falling under her spell.
Once they reached her door, he couldn't stop himself from cradling her face in his hands, and kissing her yet again. Her lips were soft and inviting, and he couldn't seem to get enough of the sensation of their moving against his. On an intake of breath, she hesitated and looked up into his eyes instead of rejoining his mouth again.
"That was definitely worth the wait," she whispered, smiling in a shy manner.
"Yes, it was," he concurred, leaning in closer, but not kissing her.
"Do you want to come in?" she bit her lip, and he wondered how often a girl like her made such an invitation. He couldn't imagine it was routine—she seemed almost embarrassed, yet just brazen enough to get the words out.
"I want," he wondered when his head had gained control of this conversation, and when it had decided to forsake him, "to do this right."
"Have you been accused of doing it wrong before?" she giggled softly, but stopped when she saw the lack of levity in his eyes.
"I want to take you out on an official date," he started. "I want to anticipate every agonizingly exquisite moan you'll make, I want to picture how your face will contort as you writhe with pleasure underneath me," he continued. His voice had taken on a huskier tone, one that made her feel like grabbing him by his collar and forcing him into her room, but she remained still, praying he'd go on.
"And I'm afraid if we do this now, we're going to miss something."
"Oh."
It was all she could manage, as she got the feeling that doing this right meant him taking initiative tonight. She had to admit he intrigued her, with his words and his actions. He was a gentleman, which she hadn't ever imagined. He could use both his language and his touch to drive her to the breaking point—that she'd imagined.
"So, are you free next weekend?"
"I am."
"So, it's a date?"
"It's a date," she nodded, looking back down at his lips, contemplating if she should dare to risk one more kiss not breaking him. She couldn't let him have all the control she decided, and put her hands on his shoulders, pulling herself up just high enough to brush her lips against his. It was a playful kiss, offering him a taste of what he was in store for as well. He picked her up by her waist, making it easier for her to deepen the kiss. A low moan escaped his throat as she ran her tongue over his lower lip before taking it between her teeth and biting it lightly when he parted his lips for her.
"You're trying to break my resolve?" his eyes sparkled.
"Just a little," she smiled. "Goodnight, Tristan."
"Night, Rory."
She opened her door and shut it slowly, leaving him standing there staring in wonder. He would be lying to say that he hadn't hoped for this to happen tonight, but he definitely hadn't planned on it. She deserved to celebrate her accomplishment, and he was glad to be the one there with her. The fact that this outing had escaladed to 'best date ever' status was what left him so dazed.
He walked slowly, aimlessly almost, down the hall, and stopped as he heard Dan call out to him.
"Tristan?"
He poked his head in the door, leaning against the doorframe and smiling stupidly. "Yeah?"
"What is wrong with you?"
"Wrong? Not a damn thing is wrong. In fact, I've never been more perfect."
"I can see that. Does this have something to do with a certain aspiring journalist we both know?"
"It's that obvious?"
"Only to those of us with eyes."
"We're going out next weekend."
"Wait—this nauseating joy is from her agreeing to go out with you?"
"So?"
"So, from the look on your face I was thinking you got lucky."
"I did. I got lucky enough to get a date with her next weekend."
"That is so not what I meant."
"Did you see Elisa?"
"We had dinner. Sarah evidently had a great time with you. Poor girl."
"Even if there was no such person as Rory Gilmore, I wouldn't have seen Sarah again. That was strictly wingman duties, for you, and more painful than most, I have to admit."
"Well, I'm just passing on the message. She's dying for you to call her."
"Guess it's going to be a terminal condition," he rolled his eyes.
"Gilmore has you roped down after one date?"
"I'm not roped down. I'm anxious for the next time I can see her."
"Is she this pathetic?"
"Night, man," he ignored his friend, leaving him to retire to his room for the evening.
Dan shook his head, amazed at how someone as confident and collected around women seemed transformed into a twitterpated, lovesick man, seemingly walking on clouds. And all this after both parties had sworn up and down this wasn't a 'real' date. He couldn't wait to see what happened after a real date.
XXXX
Rory checked her messages, not having been able to hear her phone ring all evening as the band had been incredible—loud and amazing. She was still in shock that Tristan had gotten such a good lead on the impromptu show at the club. She saw that she had one new message, and quickly checked it. Her mother sounded eerily calm, and told her to call as soon as she got in from her night out with Shower Boy.
"Must we call him Shower Boy?"
"Aww, you love him!"
"Why did you call?"
"You called."
"No, you called, and I'm answering your message."
"Oh, you need to talk about girl issues? Tampons and pantyhose?" Lorelai practically yelled into the phone.
"If Luke isn't standing right there, I'm going to have to add this to the list."
"Hang on," she hesitated. "Okay, yeah, I scared him to go upstairs."
"You're good at the scaring—and the scarring."
"Well, it's such a fine line," she sighed.
"That it is."
"So, tell me all about the date!"
"How do you know it was a date?"
"Because, you wouldn't be asking me not to taunt him if it weren't a date. You'd be helping me make up inventive names."
"It was perfect," she sighed happily.
"Meaning he kissed you."
"Yeah," she concurred dreamily.
"Did he do more than kiss you?"
"No, he was the perfect gentleman. He wanted to wait."
"Please don't tell me you offered and he had to decline," she groaned.
"Fine, I won't tell you."
"Rory!" she admonished
"Did you call me to chastise me?"
"No, I called to tell you the big news."
"Big news? I'm intrigued."
"We had the conversation."
"The moving in conversation?"
"Well, we really are past the 'where is this going' talk—we knew it was going somewhere that included us together, just where we'll be together is the big hang up point."
"Oh no."
"He likes living above the diner."
"It smells like onion rings."
"I know."
"I mean, while you and I can appreciate that fact, Luke hates fried foods."
"I know!"
"He wants you to move into the diner apartment?"
"Oh, no. He's willing to move in to my house, but keep some of his stuff at his place so he can sleep there if he ever has really early deliveries or he's doing inventory or something."
"Isn't that exactly what you're doing now?"
"Yes!"
"So, he wants nothing to change?"
"But, that means we were living together, and I didn't even know it! He's just going to buy an extra toothbrush."
"You sound upset."
"I'm upset that I didn't know we were living together. It snuck under my nose, and just happened. What's next, I wake up one morning to find a wedding ring on my left hand and an inhabited crib in your old room?"
"Somehow I think those things would be a bit more noticeable—unless you get really drunk."
She heard her mother sigh. "I haven't been that drunk in a really long time."
"Is this a tequila story?"
"Aren't they all?"
"So, crisis averted?"
"I just don't understand how this happened without my knowledge."
"Well, it's probably for the best, I mean, look how freaked out you got when you thought you had to deal with it."
"True. So, you're dating Tristan."
"You're getting so much better with those segues. And I'm going out with him again this weekend."
"Wow, already making plans in advance and holding off on sex. He sounds serious."
"It's one date," she said, rather unconvincingly trying to hide her glee.
"How good a kisser is he?"
"Oh, he's good."
"Getting out of Friday night dinner good?"
"Yes."
"Getting your internship good?"
"Yes."
"Shoe-shopping good?"
"Bone-melting good."
"Oh, wow."
"Yeah."
"So, it's really over, with Logan."
"That is what the whole breaking up with him was about, yes."
"Yeah, but you left a lot of hope in your wake, kid."
"Look, I'm single. I'm allowed to date, and Tristan is who I happen to be seeing right now."
"Hey, I'm on your side, I'm just trying to sort through the hordes of beautiful boys that are throwing themselves at your feet."
Rory rolled her eyes. "That is hardly the case. Tristan and I had sort of an unfinished business thing."
"And you're just finishing up that business?"
"I'm seeing where it goes. There's no harm in that… and he seems to really get me. He knows what I want in life, and there's this indescribable chemistry. . ."
"All this from a non-date?"
"Yeah."
"You're in so much trouble."
"I should get to bed, it's late. Tell Luke congratulations for me, and call me if you wake up with an infant."
"Will do. Night, Sweets."
"Night."
