CHAPTER 11
It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to deduce the fact that she had a restless night. Tossing and turning, she fought with her conscience, trying to reconcile her actions and her emotions. Her head told her to start admitting her emotions. Her heart told her otherwise. The debate that ran between them made waking up a dreaded experience. Trying to untangle herself from Logan's arms already proved difficult. Facing Tristin one more time seemed insurmountable.
Rory tiptoed to the bathroom and turned on the shower. She had to wake up from the funk she was in.
She welcomed the pounding heat from the droplets that drenched her when she slipped under the shower. Wiping the water from her eyes she thought, one day closer to getting rid of Tristin DuGrey. The thought of facing him terrified her. It was not that she was scared to face him. She was deathly afraid that she had actually developed feelings for someone she deemed a cretin years ago!
His actions were definitely protective when warranted. He challenged her to think outside the box. Heck, they even argued over clues, events, and arrangements like an old married couple!
There was unmistakable desire.
Had she fallen for a cavalier who kept a guarded heart?
Should she dare label the emotion as love?
She shuddered at the thought.
Love. Surely it can't be that. She didn't banter those four letters lightly, proof being her first break-up with Dean. It was the word she angrily spewed at Jess on her graduation day. She was still to utter those words to Logan, and at this point, she didn't feel that way toward him. Yet. It was an emotion she still afraid to profess to Logan.
Only a lunatic would surrender to such childish musings. She had Logan. She didn't need anyone else.
It had to be lust.
It had to be a chemical imbalance triggered by feelings of betrayal and anger. It didn't help that somehow she blamed Logan for feeding her insecurity.
She scrubbed her skin raw with the loofah like it would suddenly erase the truth she just unraveled. Disgusted with herself, she turned off the shower and dried herself with the luxurious Egyptian cotton bath towels. She hummed a song to herself softly to uplift up her dour mood. Having her back facing the bed, what she didn't anticipate happened next.
0
Logan woke up to the sound of water running.
His hand, out of habit, swept the bed for his girlfriend. When he grasped nothing but air, he jackknifed to a sitting position and started searching the room.
"Rory?" he called out her name.
No response.
It took him a moment to recall that he wasn't back in the confines of his room at New Haven. He was in Spain, on the last leg of the race.
Relieved to find out that she didn't leave him in the dead of the night, he sighed. These were the days he wished he were back to more comfortable surroundings: somewhere fun, somewhere without competition. At least, one where he knew he couldn't lose Rory too easily.
His pounding heart slowed down when he realized Rory was taking a shower. He sighed, leaned against the headboard, and stared at the closed bathroom door.
Last night, he thought he lost Rory for good. He had never seen her so upset in his entire life. At first, he thought she was overreacting. She had met his former flings and girlfriends before. Why start playing the angry girlfriend now?
He pondered. Why did he care what she thought this time around?
He heard her turn off the shower. A beat later, she emerged from the bathroom, rubbing her hair dry without looking his way.
He realized why he cared. He didn't want to be a recollection; mirages of feelings that once were. He wanted to be the present to her. He wanted to be the person that Rory would depend on and not keep secrets from. He wanted to be the confidante Finn was to her.
He wanted to be her everything.
She had her back against him. She dropped the towel and revealed a curvy backside as she donned on her underwear and a pair of jeans.
Without any pomp and circumstance, he uttered three words that were as foreign to his lips as the word 'girlfriend'.
"I love you, Rory," he said.
There. He said it. It felt odd for those words to slip out. Stranger was the feeling that he actually meant those words.
The words jostled her out of her reverie. She stopped dead on her tracks as his words sank in her head.
"I love you, and I am sorry," he repeated. He gathered his knees to his chest and rested his arms on top of his knees. "I have done a lot of stupid things. Things I never thought would affect anyone in my life. I was wrong, and I make no excuse for my childish behavior."
She slipped on her shirt and proceeded to move like she was a stalked animal.
"Logan," her voice sounded bitter and regretful, "Are you listening to the words you're spewing?" Picking up and hanging the towel slowly and methodically over the backrest of the chair, "I… I should be the one who should apologize. You don't owe me an explanation. What happened between you and Tristin shouldn't affect me. That was then, right?"
She sat on the edge of the bed and touched his forearm. "I overreacted, yes, but not for the reasons you think."
"I don't want to lose you," he said quickly, covering her hand with his. "Not now, and not to DuGrey."
"You won't lose me," she said. Her conscience, for a moment, attacked her. Her mind flashed back to the scorching kiss and the heightened touch that just happened hours ago. Rory had to snatch her hand away before her emotions gave her away.
"You just said, 'I love you'," she quoted the words to him. "You've never said those words to me before."
He stared at her and didn't know how to respond. What was there to say? She was right. Saying 'I love you' almost sounded too scripted and calculated.
"We have to talk tonight," Logan pleaded. He wanted to tell her how he really felt about her. Little did he know that Rory felt guilty for her thoughts that betrayed him. She looked at him and nodded. She didn't say anything. Instead, she leaned over, kissed him, and then she exited the room quietly.
He watched her walk away. For once, he knew it was best to give her the space she needed before it was too late.
0
Rory held on to the doorknob a little bit longer than usual. The talk. If last night's bombshell wasn't enough, she definitely wasn't prepared to deal with tonight's ordeal. Maybe she was overreacting and psyching herself out over something that was trivial.
Maybe.
Where was the metaphorical anvil that should fall on her to pretend that whatever happened between her and Tristin last night did not happen? He was nothing but interference to a holiday, right? He was not supposed to be a fling or a memory to be cherished. He was nothing but a distraction.
Choosing to take the steps to the lobby, she hoped that Tristin wouldn't give her grief over what happened last night. She wouldn't know how to handle it.
0
Tristin watched the sun rise that morning. After his little rendezvous with Rory, he was afraid to sleep and then wake up only to realize that their talk was just a dream.
Damn her. All he wanted was closure; closure in a world that involved Rory Gilmore. He really wasn't in love with her, was he?
He groaned inwardly. He didn't need any more complications. Not now, not ever. All he needed from Rory at this point was an end. He didn't care if they were friends or foes. He just wanted to feel comfortable when they eventually part ways. No anger, no bitterness.
He stared at the white envelope Jared handed him a few minutes earlier. He caressed the firm corners and stroked the edges. He hoped that the last clue would let him in on how to end this chapter of their so-called co-existence.
But of course, that would just make his day too easy. Nothing came easy in his life. Despite being born in the lap of luxury, no one gave him credit for trying to succeed on his own. Not even Rory.
This was a chapter in his life he wanted an ending to without delay. He didn't care if it wasn't a fairytale ending. At least it was the closure he sought.
"You okay, man?" Jared asked, sitting on the chair Rory usually occupied. "You look a little… distracted."
Tristin chuckled. "So what?"
"So, it's not you," Jared replied. "You had the same look on your face when Camilla broke the news to you."
"Really?" he asked wryly. "Well, just goes to show you don't know me at all."
He paused and leaned over like he was going to whisper in his ear. "I'm just planning what I am going to do when I get back."
It was farthest from the truth, but he couldn't tell Jared. Not now, not ever.
"Whatever, DuGrey," he snorted. Jared stood up and adjusted his trousers. "Tonight's the big party."
"Yup," he said.
"You going to show up?"
"Do I have a choice?" Tristin asked.
"Guess not," Jared replied. "See you later, man."
As Jared left, Rory's silhouette stood behind the spot he occupied. She walked over and flashed him a tried smile.
When he laid eyes on her, he could hardly breathe.
0
For once, she saw through the chink in Tristin's armor. There he sat uncomfortably, fidgeting with the day's clue. He looked vulnerable, almost human. There was no arrogance, no condescension. He had dark rings under his eyes, and his skin looked pale and sallow. She itched to stroke his face, covered with a five o'clock shadow. For once, she felt the urge to comfort him.
"Hey," was all he said in greeting. His voice was hoarse. His smile, forced.
"Hey," she said back, not quite meeting his eyes.
The silence was ear-splitting. He stood up and pulled her seat to accommodate her. Rory could not even mutter a word of gratitude. The blood rushing through her rang in her ears so loudly, she wanted to scream and make it stop.
She smiled at him. There was a level of self-consciousness that seemed to accompany her as she tried to read his body language. Was he upset? Was he angry?
"Last search," he sighed.
"Yeah," the words she uttered sounded shallow to her.
She looked in his eyes and saw sorrow. For someone who was antsy to get back to the States, he was looking disappointed with the looming date.
Breakfast was awkward to say the least. Neither of them spoke and the tension was thick. However, it was more melancholic. Regretful. It pained her to see him feel so uncomfortable over something she technically caused.
0
She was drained, that he knew for sure. And yet, he found her ethereal. She tried to hide her state of exhaustion, but her dark and haunting eyes gave her away.
All he wanted to do was touch her. Heck, he didn't care if it wasn't sexual. He felt an urgency to have her baby soft skin against his. He ached to have her head rest against his chest. He would've almost given up his sanity to feel his fingers intertwined with hers one more time.
But last night was a place they both couldn't look back to. It was their Sodom and Gomorra. If they ever looked back, they'd just be faced with disappointment.
He watched her stir her coffee cup absentmindedly. It was just hypnotic to watch her play with the thin red rod. She didn't bother to touch the fruit and pastry that was on her plate.
He chuckled to himself bitterly. She had become Clementine Kruczynski in his spotless mind. The moment he thought he wanted rid of her, all he wanted to do now was preserve her image in his head: her scent, her laughter, the glimmer in her eye. Everything was something else he couldn't have. And at that, he felt hopeless and lost.
"About last night…" she stammered.
"It happened," he replied. "I'm not sorry it happened."
She looked at him with accusing eyes. "You're not…."
"Did you tell him?" he whispered.
"No," she said quickly.
"Then don't worry about it," he retorted.
More awkward silence followed. Anger and disappointment brewed in the bottom of his gut. He wanted to escape.
"Are you ready?' he asked. She barely touched her meal, but at this point he didn't care.
She nodded her head and threw her napkin on her plate. They walked out of the dining room in silence and headed to the shuttle.
0
The trip to the city was filled with dread and trepidation. Both wanted to say things to each other but were afraid to make the first move. Each eye-locking moment was presumed a dare. Each accidental touch was a scorch. Finally, when they reached their destination, they gave each other so much distance it irritated Tristin.
"Damn it, Rory. What's wrong with you?" Tristin responded in agitation.
"Nothing!" she yelled back, folding her arms in front of her.
Tristin took long strides to catch up with her and spun her around.
"You are a bad liar, Gilmore," he grunted before fastening his lips on her.
He had to be insane to push her this far, but he couldn't pretend anymore. The tastes of coffee and cranberry lip-gloss made him want her even more. His arms crushed her against his chest. She flattened her palms against his chest as his hands spanned the small of her back. He could hardly breathe himself, but he'd be damned if he let her go now.
She whimpered but didn't shy away from his prodding kiss. She opened her mouth willingly, taking his lips and his tongue in a wild frenzy. She was intoxicated with the scent of his cologne and the pressure he exerted against her. Respiration was an afterthought. All she wanted was to feel his lips against her.
She nibbled his lower lip the moment he cradled her hip against him. He could taste the blood she drew but he didn't care. There was a feeling of desperation between them and clinging to each other felt like the only way to fight their way out of it.
Tristin ripped his lips away from her and rested his forehead against her.
"I'm sorry," he sighed as he tired to slow down his ragged breath.
Rory reached out and stroked the stubble on his cheek. "Don't."
"I just…."
"Shhh," she silenced him by pressing her finger against his lips.
Tristin pulled away and gave Rory her space. She moaned, but she knew they had to clear their heads.
They started walking east, resisting the urge to have physical contact with each other.
"So," Rory started saying as they walked a block in silence. "Are you going to open up the clue?"
He stuck his hand in his pocket, feeling for the little white envelope. He contemplated before answering. "Nah."
"What?" Rory asked.
"It's our last day," he stated. "I don't think finding out what we're supposed to be looking for today would really matter. The other teams are way behind us."
"But that isn't a reason to not finish the task on hand," Rory argued.
"Do you want to get rid of me that badly?" he huffed.
She dared not to reply.
"Rory," his hand sought her wrist and stopped her on the spot, "I was hoping we'd see the waterfront, talk a little, then we'll finish up with the game. After that, you and I can go on our separate ways."
She wanted to argue with him, but what he said made sense. She was in no hurry to end their day, especially when she knew what faced her the moment she got back to the hotel.
They reached Port Vell and took in the sights and sounds of children playing and waves crashing. The scent of food tickled their nostrils as they walked by the chiringuitos.
Rory chuckled nervously. "You know, I really don't have this… spontaneity thing down."
He squeezed her hand in his. "Do you trust me?"
"Are you planning to do something that's illegal?"
"Are we going to start playing twenty questions?"
She smiled. He grinned. He led her to Palau del Mar where they entered the Nautical Museum.
They walked through the quiet halls and marveled at the displays. They walked over a shallow grave. They tried stirring the Arab waterwheel. And just as they started thawing toward each other, Finn and Tim, who were trying on a cavalier's charger and testing the weight of the armor, once again interrupted them.
"'Allo, Love," Finn greeted Rory as he clanked his way toward her. "Fancy meeting you here… Tristin."
"Finn, Tim," he acknowledged the two as he kept an arm's length away from Rory.
"What do you think? Do I look dashing?" he asked Rory as he spun around.
"Very… intimidating," Rory replied.
"Madame," he said, taking a knee, "may I be your knight in shining armor?"
"You are so clichéd," Rory laughed and kissed him on the forehead before helping him to his feet.
"So, are you guys done with your quest?" he asked, as he took off the heavy armor.
"Not quite," Tristin replied with frankness. "We decided to play tourist before cracking the last clue."
"I wish we were there," Finn grumbled, securing the helmet over Tim's head before his partner decided to walk the narrow hallway.
"We still have two clues to break," Tim mumbled through the tin.
"And you guys are… playing?" Rory quizzed them.
"Oi, we are trying to have fun!" Finn defended them. "Besides, this is one of the few clues we figured out on our own."
"The others?" Rory raised an eyebrow at him.
He fished out the pieces of paper from his pocket and handed them to her. Rory looked through the clues. Tristin read them over her shoulder.
Rory smiled as she opened one of the clues. "You should've known this one, Finn."
"Why should I?" he asked.
"You took Art last semester and this clue is up your alley!" she replied, slapping him on the shoulder.
"Honey, did I ever pay attention in class?" he guffawed. "I took Art because Cathy Wainright took the course."
"Did you take any class that was actually part of your major?' Rory asked, smiling. "Anyway, this is an easy clue. So easy, you don't even have to look it up."
"You apparently insult my intelligence," Finn grumbled.
"Think about it, Finn," Tristin jumped into the conversation. "'Ballerinas of the night Paint the town Red'. What does it evoke?"
"Uh, nothing?" he raised an eyebrow at Tristin.
"Ooh, Red Light district?" Tim tossed his idea in as he took off his outfit. "But I thought that was Amsterdam?"
"Every place has its own Red Light District," Rory replied.
"And the word 'Paint' is capitalized," Tristin pointed the clue out to Finn. "So, it had to be made famous by a painting."
"'Les Demoiselles d'Avignon'?" Finn asked hesitantly.
Tim pulled out their guidebook and searched of Carrer d'Avinyò. "Dude, they're right! Picasso frequented the brothel over there. One of his famous erotic art works is based on the women he sought pleasure from!"
Finn shifted his gaze at Rory and Tristin in fascination. "You guys are awesome. No wonder why you guys figure out your clues so quickly."
He gave Rory a kiss and gave Tristin a manly hug. "You guys rock, no matter what anyone says. Thanks for the help, mates."
"Not a prob," Tristin returned his hug.
They waved goodbye as they witnessed Tim and Finn bolt out of the museum. Chuckling, Rory said, "Sometimes I wonder what that guy's thinking."
"He's a good man," Tristin said softly. "But he's right, you know. We… are awesome together."
"You think?" she inquired.
"I know," he answered. "Come on. Let's have lunch. After that, we'll embark on our last clue."
Taking in a deep breath, she agreed.
They got back on Port Olympic and visited one of the chiringuitos. They went into the beach bar and requested to be seated outside with a view of the ocean. Feasting on mussels, scallops, and blackened rice, they let their guards down, talking about things that didn't concern their respective teams or the physical attraction they had experienced toward each other.
They sat for a little over an hour before they gave in to the reality that they couldn't stop time. They begrudgingly left the bar and started on their clue.
"You ready?" he asked, as his forefinger slipped under the flap.
She nodded, resting her hand on his forearm.
He unfolded the piece of paper and read out the clue.
"What you break, I will take."
They exchanged glances and knew immediately where they were headed.
"I guess we're headed to Parc Guell," Tristin stated.
"No better time than now," Rory replied absentmindedly.
They jumped on the tram and headed uphill to the famous park. They lost themselves among the tourists as they held onto the few precious moments they had left to spend with each other.
Tristin went all out and bought an overpriced disposable camera from the store as they snapped shots of each other with the lizard and snake mosaics that met them by the gate. They walked the rocky ridge and sat on the cool ceramic as they watched people pass them by. They spent all afternoon looking at the breathtaking scenery Barcelona boasted before they ran for the terraced market stalls to dodge the raindrops that fell during the quick spring shower that passed by them.
As they waited out the rain, Rory sat on the bench and stared at Tristin, who leaned up against the Neo-Grecian column.
"So this is how it's going to end, huh?" Rory sadly replied.
He tore his gaze from the puddle forming a few feet from them. "I guess so."
He unfolded his arms and approached Rory. "You know it doesn't have to end like this."
"I know," she agreed as she started tearing up.
"Rory," he groaned, taking her in his arms.
"I am so confused, Tristin," she admitted, burying her face against his chest. "I don't know how I am supposed to feel."
"Hey, hey," he tried to hush her. "This isn't the end, you know."
"Well, you're headed back to California, and I'm headed back to Yale," she moaned.
"And when you get back you'll forget that I ever existed and you and Logan will be back to normal," he comforted her.
"Is that what you think is going to happen?" Rory asked.
"Rory, this thing between us… is a moment of weakness," he said in a controlled tone. Who was he lying to? Whose feelings was he trying to preserve?
"You can't honestly believe that," Rory spat out.
"I have to believe that," he said heatedly, flashing her with bright, angry eyes. He squeezed her shoulders so that he left finger marks on her pale skin.
"You're hurting me!" she yelped.
"Rory, I don't have anyone to go home to when I get back," he said, seething. He stepped away and distanced himself from her. "You know what I'll remember about this trip? You. Not the clues, not the scenery. You. I'll remember holding your hair back when you got sick after the bullfight. I won't be able to drink sangria, knowing that I need to smoke my menthols to just taste you again. I'll remember that your hair smells of gardenia and your skin feels like velvet rose petals. I'll remember how I wished I didn't turn you down the night we played Asshole. The memory of you visiting me last night at the villa is permanently scorched in my head. You released me from all the guilt I kept within, in regards to Camilla and Logan. I'll remember that he still wins. He still has you. I can stand facing Logan for a week. I can't stand the fact that he's with you. I want you. I want you badly, and I can't have you. I want to make love to you, have you, and keep you and call you mine. But I can't."
"Tristin," her voice trailed as her tears started cascading.
"When I told you as we sat by that wall before we got assigned to each other as partners that you had a choice, I meant it. The possibility that we could be partners was there. When I saw you, I wanted to run. Being with you is my personal purgatory."
Rory listened to his rant, staring at him as she bore witness to his Jekyll and Hyde personality, walking back and forth.
"Tristin," she asked with trepidation. "Do you love me?"
He paused and stared at her tear-streaked face. "I don't know."
The sudden silence gave them the opportunity to reflect.
Just maybe, they actually did feel love for each other.
The thought made Rory's heart constrict.
Tristin thought he'd throw up from the realization.
He turned his back to her and looked out at the sun that was disappearing behind the rooftops. "The rain stopped."
Rory got up and marched toward the walkway. "I suppose you're right."
Emotionally drained, they both walked out of the park with the remaining tourists that had taken shelter from the sprinkle.
Stephanie and Nate, who had a Mini at their disposal, greeted Rory and Tristin.
"Hey guys," she called out. "The Powers That Be said you'd be around here. Wanna ride?"
"Sure," Rory replied flippantly. "The sooner we get back," she stated, staring at Tristin, "the better."