SUMMARY: How far are you willing to go for love?
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any part of Gilmore Girls or its characters – the only thing I came up with was the story line, and a few characters. Chapter title is borrowed from 'The Scientist', by Coldplay.
-
Chapter 3: Nobody said it was easy, no one ever said it would be this hard…
Alcohol.
Ear-shatteringly loud music.
A swarm of enthusiastic (albeit mostly underage) revellers.
The conspicuous absence of all parental figures.
And a very, VERY big house.
Really, what else did you need for a bitchin' party?
It was just past midnight, and the party at Josh's was in full swing. The entire house was crammed with merry-makers, most of them in varying stages of uninhibited inebriation. There were people everywhere – on the banisters; in the kitchen; on the living room couches. There were even reports of hanky-pankying going on upstairs in the library and in the back garden.
Tristan clutched a beer as he examined the crowd, nodding absently in time to the song pulsating from the massive set of amplifiers stationed all around the room. He took a swig from his bottle, ignoring the boisterous chatter of his friends around him.
Where is she?
He forced himself to focus his attention back to Anna, whose nose was wrinkled in distaste as she watched an exceptionally intoxicated girl dirty-dancing on a nearby tabletop.
"Booty alert!" Owen exclaimed, his words slurred, provoking hoots of laughter from the other guys.
"Someone should make it a rule to ban freshmen from these parties," Anna's friend – Kirsten, maybe? Tristan couldn't remember her name – remarked. She paused to glance around. "Look at them. I mean, how embarrassing are they?"
"You know what I think?" Bryan slung an arm around her slender shoulders, much to her evident displeasure. "I think you need to loosen up."
Amused, Tristan watched as the petite brunette stepped away, disgust imprinted on her features. "If by 'loosen up' you mean get drunk and go upstairs with you, then I think I'll pass."
"Ooh, burn!"
Tristan joined in the laughter, his eyes still searching the crowd.
Where is she?
And that was when he saw her. Rory. A sharp intake of breath, completely involuntary. She was by the doorway, looking a little unsure, a little nervous, almost hiding behind Paris Gellar in her unease. But even as she stood there looking so out of place amidst the noise and people and cigarette smoke, Tristan couldn't remember ever seeing her look more beautiful than she did at that very moment. He tightened his grip on his drink. Does she even know what she's doing to me?
"And so Juliet arrives," Anna muttered beside him, "while Romeo stands way over here, not bothering to hide the fact he's gawping at her. Hey Romeo!" A quick, subtle dig of her elbow to his side. "Get your ass over there and talk to her already."
He frowned briefly at her before refocusing his attention to the other side of the room. "I'll talk to her when I'm good and ready, okay?"
He expected Anna to protest and hassle him – why was she so damn invested in this whole thing, anyway? But to his surprise, she didn't say a word, merely gazing at him with a strange, impenetrable look in her eyes. For a moment, it seemed as though she wanted to say something, but then she abruptly looked away. "I'm going to get some vodka."
Tristan touched her shoulder lightly. "Want me to come with you?"
"No, I'll be fine."
She sauntered off in the direction of the kitchen, and once again, Tristan shifted his line of vision back to the doorway. Surprise and then panic washed over him when he realized Rory was no longer there. Dammit. I take my eyes off her for one second, and she's gone.
He finished his drink, and after making sure his friends were adequately distracted, he slipped away, swiftly disappearing into the crowd. Seeing the blonde glowering in one corner with both arms crossed, he walked over and gave her what he hoped was his most disarming smile. "Hey, Paris."
"Tristan," she nodded tersely, her eyes still scanning the room.
"You here by yourself?" A stupid question, really. But he couldn't think of anything else to say, and besides, he was too preoccupied to think of making proper conversation with her.
But Paris didn't seem to mind. "No. Madeline and Louise are somewhere around here."
The words came out before he could think to stop them. "Where's Rory?"
Her shrug was indifferent. "She disappeared a few minutes ago."
Great. Knowing Rory and her intrinsic dislike for parties such as these, Tristan was willing to bet she was halfway back to Stars Hollow by now. But he knew better than to let his disappointment show. "You okay?"
"Just peachy," Paris replied, her words dripping with sarcasm. "I could've been home doing something worthwhile with my time, but instead I chose to get dragged along to this stupid party. And why? Because my mother thinks I need to work on my people skills. What's she trying to imply here? That I don't have people skills?"
"I find that hard to believe," Tristan deadpanned, only to be met by one of Paris's death glares. "So uh, I'm going outside for some fresh air. Will you be alright by yourself?"
"Sure."
"Okay then." He patted her awkwardly on the arm. "See you around."
He walked away, his progress hindered by a throng of other students ambling in and out of the room. The kitchen was up ahead, and he could see Anna inside, resting against the countertop as she carried on an animated discussion with some guy he didn't recognize. Well, at least she was having a good time.
Pushing open the glass-panelled double doors in front of him, Tristan stepped onto the huge outdoor deck, sucking in the warm night air. Ignoring the many couples drunkenly making out around him, he strode down the side steps and ventured further away to the side of the house, where he would be alone.
Peace and quiet at last.
Digging out his pack of cigarettes, Tristan extracted one and brought it to his lips, fumbling in his pocket for a lighter.
"You know, smoking's bad for your health."
Startled, Tristan turned around. Surprise registered on his face when he saw the figure half-hidden in the shadows. "What are you doing here?"
Rory Gilmore ducked her head self-consciously. "I, um–" She cleared her throat, as though embarrassed. "I just wanted to be alone for awhile."
"Well, if you want to be alone…" Tristan took a step back, uncertain. "I mean, I can leave if you want."
"Oh, you don't have to leave," she assured him anxiously, rising from the bench she'd been sitting on.
"Really?" Tristan looked at her doubtfully. "Are you sure?"
He waited for her to change her mind, to tell him to get lost and leave her alone. But instead, she did the unexpected: she smiled. "Of course I'm sure. I wouldn't mind some company. But on one condition." And here she looked at him seriously.
Tristan looked at her cautiously. "What?"
"You have to promise to keep any lewd comments to yourself."
"Well…" Tristan paused, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "I'll do my best."
"You'd better." The tiniest of grins spread across Rory's face as she patted the empty space beside her, inviting Tristan to sit down. "So…"
"So," he countered, joining her on the bench.
"This is some party, huh?" she offered, her dainty fingers fidgeting with the thin straps of her purse.
Tristan nodded. "Having a good time?"
Rory reluctantly nodded. "Parties like this aren't exactly my type of thing."
"I figured as much." Tristan leaned back, listening to the muted sounds of the party coming from inside the house. He looked at her, curious. "So what made you decide to come out tonight?"
"I just felt like it, I guess."
"Oh."
They were quiet for a moment, both unsure of what to say. Finally, Rory broke the lull. "This is kind of weird."
"What is?"
"Talking to you, without feeling the urge to hit you," she explained.
Tristan laughed. "Well gee, thanks."
"I didn't mean it in a bad way," Rory hastened to add, turning toward him. "What I meant was…we're not exactly friends. All we ever do is fight. And now here we are, talking. That's what makes it weird."
"Well–" Tristan thought this over. He had to be careful now. He couldn't risk ruining his chances with her by saying the wrong thing. "I know I've always given you a hard time at school. And I really need to work on that. But if you don't mind, I'd like for us to be friends."
Rory tilted her head questioningly. "Really?"
"Really."
She contemplated this for a moment. And after what seemed like a lifetime to Tristan, she finally allowed herself to smile. "I'd like that, too."
Relief washed over Tristan, and he beamed. "Glad to hear that."
They began talking, the both of them more at ease with each other now. She was charming, voluble, and Tristan couldn't help admiring the way her eyes sparkled even in the dim light. He memorized the way her rich chestnut hair framed her delicate face, the way her full red lips moved as she talked.
"It's a proven fact," Rory was saying, "that Scary Movie 3 is way funnier than Not Another Teen Movie. And you can't argue with that."
"On the contrary," Tristan smirked. "The Wayan brothers' sense of humour is juvenile, at best."
"Sacrilege!" Rory's eyes widened in mock horror. "Are you honestly telling me you think the guys who wrote Teen Movie are funnier?"
"Not funnier," he took pleasure in correcting her. "Just more mature."
"You did not just say that! Take it back!"
"No way."
"Yes way!"
"No way."
"Yes way–"
Both of them were so caught up in the conversation that they were completely oblivious to the girl standing just a short distance away, wordlessly watching them. She was alone, and in the semi-darkness, her eyes seemed to shine a deeper green. A gentle night breeze tugged playfully at locks of her russet hair, and still she didn't move. She seemed to hesitate, as though unsure of–
Unsure of what, precisely? It was hard to say.
But she had no need to worry. Rory and Tristan were so wrapped up in each other's company that they never noticed her. She watched them for a moment longer, and then quietly – so as not to disturb them – she turned and walked away, her steps resolute as she slowly made her way back into the house.
-