Aha! A new chapter. I believe this is my second update within mere weeks. I'm scared, too. Of course, t'was only possible with the betaing skills of Nat, thanks dude.

When they were seven, Tristan and Dave had become life long spit brothers. They had vowed to never like girls (later amended to never fight over a girl), and always have each others back no matter what (that one was never changed). Although now this was never mentioned, both those loyalties were still mutually upheld.

Tristan knew how it worked with chicks; they'd get together with anyone of the same sex and bitch and moan about anything, even if the other person was a complete stranger. It was different for guys though; you couldn't just go out and find a guy to confide in, you had to grow one, so to speak. Dave and he had been buddies since kindergarten orientation day, they grew up like brothers. And although there was no daily heart to heart, they had had their fair share of drunken D&M's.

At present, Tristan was situated on a worn out bean bag in Dave's room, tears streaming down his face from laughter. Dave was on the opposite side of the room, scowling at his friend's amusement. His mother, Sarah, had come by a few moments before, in search of a spare glue stick. She had informed the pair that she was re-doing all the photo albums and handed Tristan a complete one, full of photos of the boys when they were younger. One particular succession of photos had held Tristan's attention and he began to recount the story, much to Dave's chagrin as it hadn't been his shining moment. He tried to avert Tristan's attention to other topics, but the blonde refused to let it go that easily.

"So Rory Gilmore, think you can get her second time round?"

Ah, that seems to have worked.

"I know it." Tristan sat up, self confidence and assertion lighting his features.

"Hey man, I'm rootin' for ya. But you know this is all very cliché."

"How so?"

"Popular rich jerk decides to deflower the sweet Mary. You're not gonna... fall in love with her, are you?"

Tristan scoffed, "Get real Stevens. This isn't 'She's all that'."

"Can I just tell you it speaks volumes that you can reference that movie."

Tristan shrugged "Whatserface made me watch it like eighty times when we went out."

Dave nodded slowly, "But you're sure... 'cause dude, you used to have a thing for her. And she's an okay girl, you know. She's not a bitch or anything, seems pretty nice to me. And I know that there is no way that even you are cold enough to get with a girl without getting some level of feelings involved. Not this girl anyway, she's already under your skin."

Tristan sighed, knowing there was no point in lying to Dave. Besides, he himself had worried over this for some time, "Look, I can't guarantee that I won't like her. But I don't plan on falling in love, man. No way. Besides, it's not like I'm going to fuck her and dump her."

Dave raised an eyebrow, "Isn't that exactly what you plan on doing?"

Tristan paused. It was. Shut up Dave. "Essentially, yes. But I'll let her down easy. Maybe she'll break up with me. Whatever. The point is to... 'deflower the sweet Mary".

Dave sighed skeptically; he knew there would be feelings involved. Tristan always managed to get feelings involved. Despite his cold jackass facade, Tristan wasn't so bad. And he always treated all the girls with respect. While they were dating that is, after the break up they were fair game for any amount of name calling and reputation destruction. Still, Dave knew his friend. Rory Gilmore was not someone he would willingly let go of. And he could tell she wouldn't make it easy for Tristan either.

Well that's where Dave was wrong.

xxx

There were times when Rory hated how much Lane knew about her. Granted these times were far and few in between, but when they came... oh man, did they suck. Currently they were seated on Rory's bed. Lane was propped up against the headboard, arms crossed over her chest, an expectant gleam in her eye.

Rory sat near the foot of the bed, dangling her feet over the edge. They had been sitting like that, in silence for almost three minutes now. And she knew Lane could hold out much longer than her. It was all that training she got keeping her mouth shut around Mrs. Kim. She pretended to be immersed in her book, futilely hoping Lane would give up and let it go. Oh Rory, so stubbornly optimistic.

Finally, 6 minutes and 28 seconds into the charade, Rory caved, "Fine!"

Lane didn't bother to sit up, punching the air triumphantly, "You're growing weaker, Ror. Usually takes you at least 8 minutes"

"Maybe you're just getting better." She said, hoping to start up an unrelated conversation. Never mind that she was exploding to tell someone, even if she couldn't quite explain it to herself.

"You think? I have been trying it out in my mind every now and then. Was it the eyebrow thing? Because when it's up like this," she raised her eyebrow in a 'got a problem?' type manner, "I think people get a bit initimi- don't think you can derail this conversation Rory, you know me better than that." The transition of subject totally threw Rory off guard and she mentally gave Lane props for being so devious of mind.

Rory sighed, knowing the game was over. She'd have to tell Lane. She didn't even know how to explain it to herself, let alone articulate it into words for her friend. Lane, seeing her friend's obvious discontent, moved closer to Rory.

"Who is he?"

"Why do you think there is a he? Could be problems with school. Or a she."

"Rory, I have known you how long? I can differentiate between 'School Stressed Rory" and "Boy Confused Rory". It's like differentiating between ska and punk."

Rory looked toward her feet and then to her bookshelf, searching it with her eyes. She got up from the bed and took down a large book, bringing it back to her seat. With the book lying over her lap they both stared down at the elegant cover and design of the school emblem.

"The Chilton yearbook? This is your problem? Did they take a bad picture of you or something?" Lane asked, hoping to lighten the situation. Rory however, ignored the attempt and occupied herself by flipping through pages until she found the right one. She transferred the book to Lane and nodded at the large picture.

Lane read the title. It was the Boys Basketball Team, The Chilton Cheetahs. "Which one? Or is it all of them?" she nudged her friend and wiggled her eyebrows. Rory had to agree, the boys in her grade were hot.

"Second from the right."

Rory knew the exact moment Lane had found him by the sound of her jaw dropping open.

"Who is that?"

"Tristan Dugray"

"He is... Ror, wow. Good choice." Lane could all but stop herself from drooling. The boy was fine. The messy hair, the gorgeous face, the toned body… Rory had definitely chosen well. But now was not the time to discuss such superficial matters, she shut the book, placing it beside her. "So why him?"

Rory glanced up, unsure of the question, "What do you mean?"

"You're always so picky about boys. And despite his god like features, there's gotta be more to him."

"Ugh! That's just it!" She fell back onto her mattress, tugging at her hair in frustration, "I know that I like him for more than his looks, but I don't know what it is about him I like. I mean, actually, there's nothing. He's rude and arrogant and a jerk and...god! What is wrong with me?"

Lane was about to offer her sagely advice when Rory sprang up, "I know what this is. It's his fault entirely. His stupid 'annoy her until she likes me' tactic. And it worked, too! I don't know how, but it did. Maybe he sued voodoo or summoned the devil, or…" She stopped her erratic pacing and hand movements, spinning on Lane. "What do I do?"

"Well if you're right about his 'tactic', I guess it means he wants to go out with you. So you just say yes. Or ask him out first."

Rory stared, dumbfounded. "Ask him out first? I can't possibly do that Lane - I'd pass out on the spot!"

"Calm down, Ror! Sit. Now listen, it's doubtful you'd be rejected if he likes you. Find a way to say it so it doesn't sound like a date. A sort of, 'there's no other way' thing."

Rory plopped onto the bed, sinking back once more, "As if that's gonna happen."

"Make it happen."

She glanced over at Lane, who nodded emphatically. The self assertion radiated off in waves. Well... maybe. In fact, why not?

xxx

For two weeks now, Tristan had been alternating between pushing Rory to breaking point and alleviating her stress; just as she began searching frantically for notes or a book she had 'misplaced', he'd swoop in and save the day.

Rory knew full well that he was the one taking them. She wasn't blind. And in a way, it was sweet. In a twisted way. But sweet never the less.

As she stood expectantly by her closed locker at the end of the day, Tristan strutted down the hallway, her English text in his hand and a grin on his lips. She tapped her foot, a hand on the hip and a knowing expression on her face. He didn't look the least bit ashamed. Instead, Tristan stood right in front of her, countering her knowing expression with one that said "yeah, and what are you going to do about it?"

Oh, well she'd show him exactly what she'd do about it. Letting him hold onto the book for a while longer, Rory sucked in every ounce of courage in her body, hoping maybe some of his confidence would rub off. She looked him straight in the eye, and shrugged.

"You found my book. Again." A hitched eyebrow on the last word. Thank you, Lane.

"Yeah, you dropped it in class." Never mind they hadn't had a single class together and the book had been in her locker all day. He offered it to her. Rory shook her head and nodded at the back pack lying at her feet.

"My bag's full, it won't fit."

Tristan raised an eyebrow. So?

"And I can't carry it because it's raining and I have to catch the bus."

Did she want a ride?

"So take me out for coffee tomorrow and I'll get it off you then."

What?

Had he heard right?

Had Rory Gilmore just asked him out?

Because it sounded like she had.

Although granted, it was more an order.

He searched her face and reveled in the red washing over her skin. He'd have to give her points for maintaining eye contact when she was clearly ready to pass out.

"You asking me out, Gilmore?"

"Technically, no."

"And non-technically?"

Rory rolled her eyes, grabbed her bag and walked away from him. "I'll be at my grandparents. Don't get there too early"

Tristan stared after her, dumbfounded.

Well. This he hadn't expected.

Rory on the other hand, wasn't faring quite so well. As soon as she was out of sight, she ran a hand over her face, mortified. Was that actually her back there? Jesus, it was. And she was going out with Tristan Dugray tomorrow. A date initiated by her.

Of all the things to look forward to.

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