CHAPTER 9

There was an odd sensation of guilt and anticipation building in Rory's gut as she came down for breakfast that Wednesday morning. Three more days before heading back home. Three more days of waking up early. Three more days...

"Morning," she was greeted by a husky voice.

Three more days that she had to be in the company of Tristin DuGrey.

"Hi," she greeted hesitantly.

Not quite seeing eye to eye, they both walked to the empty table they had shared day after day since their partnership. With the exception of her absence the day before, they sat in the far corner of the room, enjoying the privacy away from the other members. Surely, they bantered before starting the day. A quick routine established like they were transported back to the hallowed halls of Chilton.

However, today was different.

"Feeling better?" he asked, as he unfolded the napkin on his lap. He didn't even bother to look her way when he inquired.

"Much," was her curt response. Why did she feel guilty?

"Good," he replied. He opened the hotel's copy of the New York Times and proceeded to read. He didn't look up after the almost scripted salutation and customary inquiry.

Rory felt the chill.

"I'm so sorry that I didn't meet up with you yesterday," she apologized. "I wasn't feeling well after..."

"No apologies necessary, Gilmore," he stated from behind the print. "Huntzberger said you were feeling under the weather."

"So did you figure out the clue and win the point?" she babbled, faking enthusiasm.

"No," he said, as he flipped to another page of the paper and folded it. "I read the clue here, so I lost the point to your team."

Rory was disturbed. "But that's not fair! You should've won the point! Technically, I forfeited yesterday!"

"It's in the rules, Rory. You don't get to have a say in it," he lowered the paper enough to shoot her a disinterested gaze. "Technically, I could've gotten on the shuttle, read the note, flipped a bitch, and gotten the point for our team. However, I wasn't willing to work that hard for a stupid game."

Rory stammered. "I hope you're not saying that to make me feel culpable."

"I'm not," he said as a matter of fact. "I don't see why I have to go through this crap. All I want to do is hit the greens in Monterey."

Rory plunked her teaspoon on her saucer. "That's it," she said, irritated. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" he matched her tone, hushed but growling. "Let's just get today done and over with. Then you can go hang out with your precious boyfriend."

"Is that what's gotten to you? Logan?' she asked heatedly.

"Don't be so sanctimonious," he accused. He was losing his cool.

"Fine," Rory replied. She snatched the envelope tucked between the salt and pepper shakers and her bag that hung on the back of her seat. She got up and walked hurriedly out the door.

She didn't bother waiting for her partner. Instead, she stomped to the shuttle stop. One thing was for certain, she wasn't going to let him get to her.

The ride to Barcelona was done in silence. For the first time, they shared a bench. Neither spoke nor looked each other's way. The stillness was deafening. The awkwardness was unbearable, but neither budged.

Both were seething.

They got off at their usual stop at the La Sagrada, but unlike their trip to the Block of Discord, their interaction was mechanistic.

Rory slipped her finger under the flap and ripped the sealed envelope open.

"To Thee, I give," she read out loud.

"To Thee, I give?" he scoffed. "How ironic." Then, he proceeded to walk north without her.

Rory was dumbfounded, watching him take off. "Wait for me!"

Tristin heard her pounding steps behind him, but he didn't bother looking back. He kept on marching.

"So what do you think this means?" she asked, waving the clue in the air.

"I have no idea," he said. He stopped in front of a music store and walked in.

Rory was confused. She walked in and watched him shuffle and flip through rows and rows of displayed CDs and LPs.

"What are you doing?" she hissed at him.

"Looking for some tunes," he replied nonchalantly.

"What about the mission?" she asked in confusion.

Annoyed, Tristin put the LP down. "I don't care. Figure out the clue and run around Barcelona by yourself. Send me a postcard when you get there." He turned his back on her and headed to the counter to ask the sales person if he could listen to the album.

Rory was getting agitated. "What is your major malfunction, Tristin? You are my partner. I am not going to give up on you."

"There is nothing to give up on. I'm a grown man, Mary," he remarked in sarcasm. "I don't need a babysitter."

"You know what I meant," Rory replied.

"You didn't even have the decency to tell me yourself that you were going to spend the day with lover boy."

"I didn't know that I was supposed to be accountable to you!" she replied heatedly. "And you knew from the very start that Logan was my boyfriend and I had certain responsibilities..."

"Was?" he commented sarcastically.

"Is," she clarified heatedly. "I may be your partner, but I am not going to let you make me feel guilty for taking the day off to be with my boyfriend!"

Glaring, his response was, "Who said anything about shirking your duties as a girlfriend? I bet you're the best kind." He snickered. "After all, you offered to sleep with me when Logan disappeared on you, right? But that's not the issue, is it? It would've been a nice gesture of respect, as a partner, to tell me that you needed a break from my presence."

"That's not fair!" she remarked. "I..." She didn't get to finish her argument. He put on the headphones and tuned her out as the music played in his ears.

Rory waited for him to acknowledge her. When he decided to ignore her, she wadded up the clue and threw the balled up piece of paper at him.

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He was not in the mood to deal with her. He did not want to deal with anyone, for that matter. He tried losing himself in a rare, unreleased Coldplay song, but ended up feeling guilty for shutting her out.

He took a glimpse of her from the corner of his eye and saw her shuffling back and forth on her feet. He took some comfort in the fact that she was squirming.

She deserved it.

He bopped his head to the synthesized sound, pretending he didn't care about the scavenger hunt, or her for that matter.

Why should he? In three days, they were going to part ways and maybe not see each other again. The memories they shared would be catalogued in photos and stubs and stories that would be retold in social gatherings that would eventually be forgotten.

He took a deep breath when he felt something bounce off his bicep. "Damn it!" he cursed to himself. He closed his eyes and wished that he and Rory could start the day all over. Then the shadow on his left disappeared. Maybe she decided to find a seat or roam the aisles for some music of her own liking. But when he turned around, all he saw was a blur bolting out of the doors and back onto the streets. Tears were streaming from her eyes. He didn't know where she was headed.

He knew that for now, it was best not to follow her.

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She had no clue what she did wrong, but she knew for a fact that she had to get away. She hurriedly brushed away the scalding tears on her cheeks. She was not going to let him see her cry.

"Damn it, Tristin," she groaned as she sobbed. She had done a lot of things in solitude, but the scavenger hunt was one of those things she enjoyed doing with someone. Preferably, Tristin.

A wave of loneliness surged from the pit of her stomach, and it hurt. The pain was the kind that usually stemmed from betrayal, not from words hurled in a heated moment.

Walking the Diagonal in a haze, Rory tried to seek refuge in a place she thought would make her feel like she was in the comfort of her home: a coffee shop.

She stopped at the first cafe she stumbled upon and sat down. She felt exhausted. Never in her life did she ever imagine actually having feelings for Tristin: ones that stemmed out of friendship and loyalty.

Or were they?

The barista asked for Rory's order in rapid but polite Spanish. Looking up, she slowly recited her order. The lady smiled at her sympathetically and said in English, "You'll be alright."

Rory flashed her a tired smile and stared at the busy street through the picture window. As an outsider looking in, she felt abandoned.

Staring, she reminisced the day she spent with Logan. No regrets. She forgot how much fun Logan was when they were actually together: no pretenses, no secrets.

Yesterday's outing made her learn more about her current beau. She found out that he loved sweets but preferred fruit parfaits over icing. She found out that he liked spicy food but not garlic-laden meals. She realized that Logan was odd for liking sunsets not because he's a night owl but because it meant he had little time left to make an ordinary day spectacular. He said it was the thrill of seizing the day to the last second.

Her thoughts on Logan made her smile.

The barista handed her a cappuccino with a sweet treat on the side. She thanked her hostess before losing herself once more in thought.

As much as she loved having the opportunity to spend the day with Logan, she sorely missed on her trip with Tristin.

She would've liked to pretend that she didn't miss him while she shared an ice cream with Logan, but she wondered what Tristin was doing at the same time.

Tristin. How could she?

She wasn't that drunk that she'd forgotten her offering Tristin to have a one-night stand. Truly, she wanted to spite Logan for not being a stellar boyfriend. But picking Tristin as the fallback guy? Preposterous.

Rory cradled her head in her hands. What had she done?

She couldn't afford to leave Barcelona knowing that the truce she made with Tristin would be shattered because of her stupidity. She couldn't pretend that her request was all that innocent when she offered it to the one man she knew would never turn down a romp.

Or was she truly that naïve to think that DuGrey would actually look her way?

Rory stared at the swirling steam rising from the cappuccino. Usually, the scent of the caffeinated drink made her smile. This time, the scent just mocked her. She was dawdling. She should just figure out the clue and get home. At least she could wallow in the privacy of her hotel room.

What a mess she'd created for herself!

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She should've returned by now.

Tristin wanted to pretend that he didn't care about the brunette that stormed out of the music store. He did, and it was eating him up inside for letting his pride get in the way of their quiet existence. He stared at the balled up piece of paper by his foot and picked it up. It was the clue. He didn't have to read it again.

To Thee, I give.

The words mocked him. Biting his lower lip, he remembered how he used to have vivid thoughts of Rory being one of his conquests. He considered his Chilton years his 'Horny Phase'. But if he was over that phase, why was he lusting over a girl he forgot moments after he left for the military academy?

He could still hear her in his head from that drunken night. All he had to do was walk through her door and they would have had mind-blowing sex. Logan didn't have to know. She should be used to the game of discretion by now. He saw the lust in her eyes. His libido was telling him to give in. He was no saint.

But he wasn't a sinner, either.

He should just forget the offer he passed up on and get the day done and over with. He wasn't in love with her. He just wanted to give Logan a taste of his own medicine.

Was it worth using Rory?

He walked to the counter and purchased the rare bootlegged CD.

With renewed determination, he walked out of the music store and headed north. He didn't know where he was going, but he'd be damned if he didn't end up finding her.

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Rory was lost when she ended up at the Parallel. Resigning her fate to running away, she decided to purchase a ticket for the Teleferic. She loaded the sky cable car with the tourists eager to view the panoramic view of the city.

As the Teleferic ascended toward the top of Montjuic, Rory tried to backtrack in her thoughts. She knew she was still in love with Logan. She knew she wanted to be friends again with Tristin.

Was keeping both men part of her life selfish?

Rory was so oblivious that she was indifferent to the scene unfolding in front of her. She was too engrossed in her indecisions that she missed the Sacred Heart Church and the Torre Calatrava in its full glory. She didn't even notice the carnival that stood on the hill. She had a bird's eye view of the city, but was blinded by her own muddled thoughts.

She would've realized that she was missing much by overanalyzing.

The trip uphill finally ended, and she allowed the tourist group to file out before making her exit. She had to force herself to get out of the metal doors. She had no reason to be up the majestic hill. She had no purpose as to why she had to escape. She had no business to attend to, ignoring the sight that unveiled itself that cool, clear day.

Until she saw Tristin leaning up against the Teleferic gates like he was waiting on her.

"Tristin?" she called out to confirm the vision in front of her.

He stood up straight and looked at her. No smile. "About damned time you got here."

Rory broke into a sprint but came to an immediate halt right before she got to him. She raised her arms to hug him only to fight the urge to do so.

"What are you doing here?" she stuttered. She took a step closer to him.

"We're here for the clue, right?" he remarked. He, too, shuffled close to her, enough to catch a whiff of her light perfume.

Rory's forehead wrinkled. "Yeah, but I wasn't even thinking of the clue."

"You didn't?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at her. "Then how is it we found each other here?"

His face was close to hers, she could feel his breath on her cheek.

"You tell me," she whispered.

She tilted her face to him like she wanted him to kiss her lips. Tristin licked his lips instead and said, "To Thee, I give."

Rory's heart skipped a beat at the words uttered until she realized he was talking about the clue. Averting his lips and the potential for embarrassment, she said, "Oh."

She stepped away and tried to regain her composure. Rubbing her hands up and down her arms, she asked, "What does it mean?"

"Mount Tibidabo," he explained. "It literally means To Thee, I Give."

She just stared at him.

"To Thee, I Give were the words used by the devil to tempt Christ."

Rory was disappointed that it wasn't something as romantic as kismet that brought them back together. She turned her back to him and stared at the city she forgot existed.

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I shouldn't have been so rude."

"I should've been more considerate," he volleyed an excuse back to her.

She faced him once more and looked into his eyes. "So, this thing between us..."

"Forgotten," he smiled wanly. "Friends?"

"Friends," she said the words in a sigh. Why was she disappointed with the words uttered?

Tristin came around and put his hand on the small of her back and led her to the Blue Tram waiting at the end of the road. Rory had to dismiss the small shock she felt at the moment he touched her.

When they got back to the hotel, Tristin was hesitant to walk her back. Rory felt the same way. On the way to the entrance, Rory paused, "You don't have to walk me back."

"Are you sure?" he asked cautiously.

Before Rory could utter another word, they heard Finn's voice from the swimming pool. From his tone, he was unaware of their presence.

"Didn't see you all day yesterday, Mate. Hiding?" he asked as he emerged from the swimming pool.

"Not really," Logan strolled toward Finn's lounging chair.

"Did you tell Rory about Camilla yesterday? Is that why she wasn't with DuGrey?" he asked as he toweled himself dry.

"No, she doesn't know about her," he sighed. "I won't say a thing unless Tristin mentions it."

"That's a walking time bomb you have in your hands," he warned Logan. "Clean up won't be a cinch."

"Rory," Tristin whispered in warning.

Rory flashed him as accusing stare. Walking backwards she said, "If you would excuse me, please." She covered her mouth and ran into the building.

"Rory!" Tristin yelled after her, attracting the attention of the guests lounging by the pool, including Logan who set off for a mad dash for the girl that disappeared through the gaping doors.

Finn was frozen in place, staring at Tristin with the look that expressed, "What have I done?"