She opened the door to reveal that she'd done quite a bit of preparation for this date. She was in a nice dress, high heels, and her hair was curled. She smiled until she took in his attire. Now sporting a confused frown, she held onto the door instead of coming through it.
"Why are you in a bathrobe?"
He just smirked and motioned for her to return to her room. "For the same reason I need you to go change into yours as well."
"I'm confused."
"I can see that. Hurry up, we don't have all night," he insisted, and she gave him one last bewildered look before doing as he said, leaving him in the hallway as she shimmied out of her dress and shoes and clipped her beautiful curls up off her neck. Securing her robe around her waist, she reopened the door to find him still standing, waiting impatiently.
"That was cold, making me wait out here and have to mentally envision you changing," he informed her.
She gave a blush. "Where are we going?"
"This way," he offered his arm as he escorted her to Dan's door. She eyed him carefully as he opened it, and locked it behind them. She could see a soft, flickering glow coming from the open bathroom door, and she stepped slowly in front of him towards it. She stopped in the doorframe and gasped.
"Tristan, you did all of this?"
Stepping behind her, he slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back flush against him. He loved the feel of her silky robe under his fingertips, and he dug them in further.
"Maybe."
She smiled and turned around in his arms. "'Cause sometimes you get decorator elves that will come in and do things like this," she teased.
"Very funny. If you don't like it," he started.
"I love it," she silenced him and reached up to kiss him before turning back around to face the beautiful scene he'd created. There were candles everywhere. A full bathtub filled with bubbles and rose petals, and on the closed toilet lid sat a bucket filed with ice and champagne.
"Good. Shall we?"
She nodded, and let him slide her robe down her shoulders. She eased herself into the hot water, relishing the sensation as she could feel her muscles relaxing into it. She closed her eyes as she sank into the mass of bubbles and flowers, deciding that it'd been way too long since she'd had such a luxury. She opened her eyes and looked to Tristan, who was still standing back, watching her.
"Gonna join me?"
He nodded. "In just a minute," he said, moving to pour two glasses of champagne and handing one off to her. Once she was fully set, he joined her, sitting facing her across the sea of foamy bubbles. Both took a long sip, and rested the glasses on the side of the tub.
"This is perfect. How did you get use of this room?"
"I have my connections," he mysteriously answered.
"You held his night of drunken debauchery over him, didn't you?"
"Maybe."
"This is just what I needed. The best present a girl could get."
"This is just phase one."
Rory's eyes lit up. "Phase one?"
"A warm up, if you will."
"You didn't have to go through all this effort."
"Are you enjoying yourself?"
"Yes, but," she smiled.
"Then it was worth the effort."
She leaned back and nestled her legs around his in the tub. She took another drink of champagne, looking around at all the things Tristan had done to the bathroom.
"I think I'm going to enjoy turning 21."
"How was your day?"
"Busy. And a little nerve-racking."
"You get an A minus?" he teased.
"The boss' secretary came in to schedule a meeting with me for next week."
"What's that about?"
Rory shrugged. "Dunno. She couldn't, or wouldn't, say. Just that I have to be in his office at 4:30 next Tuesday afternoon."
"I'm sure it's to praise all your hard work, what with all those long hours that keep you away from your very lonely boyfriend," he pouted as he ran a hand up her smooth calf, kneading the muscle on the way up to the back of her knee, which he ran his fingers over lightly, tickling her.
"Yes, you poor neglected baby."
"Hey, be nice to me, or I won't give you your present."
"The mocking will cease. I just hope the meeting is about something good."
"I wouldn't worry about it," he assured her.
"So, there was a mention of a present?" she asked hopefully.
He laughed and nodded. "One that you will receive later."
"Aw, now, is that anyway to treat the birthday girl?"
He leaned up and pulled her by her legs into his lap. She giggled, and he ran a hand over her face, the bubbles that were clinging to his skin transferring onto hers. She protested, pulling her head back away from his grasp.
"Hey, I got all pretty for you, and you're ruining it," she chastised.
"Impossible," he traced a finger over her lips, leaving no trace of soap this time. She leaned in before he got the chance and kissed him, weaving her own soap-covered digits into his hair. She moved to wrap her legs around his torso, bringing them closer together, and his hands slid down her back, resting them on her butt to anchor her more in place. She let out a slight moan as she pulled out of the kiss, his momentum building as he continued to kiss her flesh, down her cheek and onto her neck.
He pulled up and looked at her pleasure-doused face, knowing that she was falling into his touch, feeling no need to hold back. He had things planned for them to do, and this wasn't where he wanted to consummate the evening. It was just hard not to touch her at all, his instincts driving him as she sat nestled against him, her flesh hot against his.
"Hey," he breathed, taking one more trail down her neck.
"Mmm?" she nuzzled her face into his shoulder, noting the contrast of the rose petals and his scent that filled her senses.
"I wanted to ask you something," he said, looking at her as she moved slowly up to do the same.
"Ask away," she mused, the corners of her mouth turned up in a state of contentment.
"I was speaking with my father yesterday," he paused, as if trying to figure out what level of detail to give her about the conversation. "And I have been roped into having to meet him in Europe next week."
She gave a pout, catching his meaning that he would be out of town for an extended time.
"Oh. Where?"
"Paris," he said, his tone unaffected, despite her instant peaked interest.
"Paris is amazing! I wish we'd gotten to spend more time there when I went with my mother."
"I'm glad to hear you say that. I was thinking about how it was going to suck to be stuck in Paris all week, alone, and wishing you could come with me, but of course you have your internship, but then it occurred to me," he stopped babbling as her smile grew wider. He cleared his throat and continued. "That maybe you'd like to join me for the weekend."
"In Paris?" she sat up straighter, making sure this was the offer he was really making.
"In Paris."
"Oh my God, I'd love to! Are you sure it's okay, with your family and all?"
Tristan shrugged. "The old man has no say in who shares my bed. He just dictates that I go."
"Wow, I wish my father made me to go Paris for a week," she commented.
"Well, it wasn't my first choice," he replied honestly. "But I figured you might enjoy it."
She nodded and kissed him. "That I will. Wow, a weekend in Paris."
He watched her revel in her good luck, and he felt suddenly better about his own having to go. His father's demands on his time never spelled out good news for him, but her proximity might lessen the blow this time around.
"Is that my present?" she asked, bringing him out of his thoughts.
He shook his head. "Nope. Just an offer."
"Well, it's accepted."
"Good. I have your plane ticket in my room."
"Hmm, someone's sure of himself."
"I'm sorry, did you see your face when I asked you?" he teased.
"Fine. I was excited. But who wouldn't be excited to go to Paris with someone they love? It is the City of Love, you know."
"I've heard. I've just never gone with someone I love before," he informed her, brushing her cheek again with soft fingertips.
"Well, there is a first time for everything," she sighed, staring into his blue eyes.
Lost again in yet another smoldering kiss, they continued to enjoy the warm bath for a while longer, until the water chilled to the point that she gave an active shiver. He held her at this point in his arms, her back leaning into his chest.
"Ready to get out?"
"Yeah. Are you ready for phase two?"
"It's about that time. After you," he allowed her to step carefully out of the tub, and wrap a towel around her body. She handed him one as well, admiring his form as he moved to empty the tub and join her.
"So, am I allowed to get dressed again, or do I need to wear something specific?"
He seemed to consider this for a moment. "Do you have a French maid's uniform?"
"No, but my mother does," she informed him, to which he openly grimaced.
"Wow. Details I never needed to know."
"You asked. Besides, tell me that isn't one of your fantasies," she pleaded. "It's so overdone."
He smirked. "You really want to hear about my fantasies?" he asked, his low voice causing her to shudder a bit.
"I, uh, well," she stammered, the heat practically rolling off of her body.
"Later, Mary. Let's go get dressed," he motioned to the door, at the ready to follow her lead.
XXXX
Rory's cell phone rang just as they got out of the back of the cab, and she checked it before turning off the ringer and slipping it back into her handbag. She smiled quickly at Tristan, saying nothing.
"Not important?"
"Not really."
"Your mom?"
"Uh, no. She already made her long-winded birth story birthday call."
"Birth story?"
"Your mother doesn't regale you with the unending trauma to her body that was your debut into the world every year?"
He looked at her in horror. "Uh, no. I've never heard anyone speak of my actual birth."
Rory nodded. "Count yourself lucky, my friend. My mother would have a slide show, if at all possible."
"I'll do that. So, who was it?"
She looked to him, noting the edge in his voice. He was trying to be innocuous, but failing. She'd known him too well for too long.
"It really isn't important."
"Rory," he sighed, stopping on the middle of the sidewalk.
"Where are we headed?" she asked, trying again to divert his attention.
"Why won't you tell me who called?" his tone was demanding, tired of her attempts to redirect him.
"What does it matter?"
"It doesn't, I just want to know."
"Oh my God. Do you not …," she trailed off, as he stood in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Do I not what?"
"Trust me. You don't trust me."
"I trust you. I just think that you could tell me who's calling you during our date."
"It was my dad, okay?"
He looked surprised as she erupted at him, her phone flipping open to show him that her screen read 'one missed call: Dad.' He looked from the screen, ashamed and instantly wishing to take back the last two minutes.
"Do you want to know why I didn't want to talk to my dad?"
"Not if you don't want to discuss it," he answered honestly.
"Really? Because if that were true, we wouldn't even be having this conversation," she shot back, making the gnawing feeling in his stomach more intense. She looked at his face, taking in his discomfort, but continued anyhow.
"I didn't want to talk to him because we don't have the best of relationships. It always starts off with the best of intentions and leaves me disappointed, crying over what should have been, and usually taking care of my mother, who also gets crushed in the process. So sometimes, when I'm in a good mood, I don't like to ruin it by getting into things with him."
Her anger level was only rising, and he stepped forward to put his hands on her arms.
"Rory, calm down," he instructed her, as they were attracting onlookers. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have assumed," he shook his head.
She stared at the ground for a few moments before looking back up at him. "Logan called last night."
"What?"
"Last night, on my way home, Logan called me."
He didn't say a word, but she took his silence as an opportunity to give him what he'd so obviously wanted. "He wanted to know how I was, and to wish me a happy birthday. He says he wants to be friends. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"What did you say?" the edge back in his voice as his suspicions were confirmed.
"Do you hear yourself? Seriously, do you comprehend how insane this entire conversation is? Or is this how you envisioned this evening going?"
"You expect me to just brush this off and pretend like it's a non-issue?"
"The only 'issue' I see here is your inability to trust me."
"I do trust you. It's him I don't trust."
"You don't even know him!"
"I know enough. I know that he wants you back. He made that perfectly clear."
"Oh my God. I have to get out of here," she said, turning to hail a cab.
Tristan moved to grab her hand, to pull her back next to him and prevent her from leaving. He saw the evening disintegrating, feeling as if he were grasping at sand running through his fingers, just as her hand was.
"You can't leave."
"I'm not about to stay and be treated like this, on my birthday or any other day," she said, looking into his eyes before getting into the back of the car and closing the door after her, leaving him standing on the street. He stared after the car as it disappeared into the mass of others, heading away from him and the whole situation.
XXXX
"Hello?"
"I'm sorry to call out of the blue like this."
"It's fine, I'm not busy. What's going on?"
"I needed a friend," she bit her lip, willing the tears not to reemerge. She'd cried all the way back to her room, and left a woeful message on her mother's answering machine. And on her cell voicemail. Then on Lane's machine. She was out of other options. She just wanted to feel safe and understood.
"I'm here. Tell me what happened," Logan said calmly, waiting for her to attempt to fight off the tears that were going to come anyway.
AN: Okay. No one freak out. There is a plan. The wrench was included in said plan. Thanks for reviewing, to each and every one of you who are so incredible about the feedback. Hope you enjoyed this installment!
