Disclaimer: C 1st chappy
A/N: Hey, hope you guys like this one I like writing these. ULTIMATE ROWING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Torn II:
Ring, Ring! The loud bell rang throughout the large apartment.
Almost simultaneously the loud barks of a very large dog erupted through the large metal door.
"Damnit!" she groaned as she slammed back into reality. "Lane if this is Dave, I swear I'll dismember him of a certain appendage!"
Padding her way towards the door, she tried to block out the dogs loud barking, but soon her head was pounding from the racket.
"Shut up Mocha!" she yelled as she continued past the living room and finally made it to the large metal door.
The barking didn't stop as she opened the door, and turned towards the kitchen. "Hey Dave," she yawned not even bothering to look up.
He stared at her as she walked away from him. She looked so cute just clad in a tight, red tank and matching plaid boxers. Her long legs and arms were glistening with sweat as she struggled to wake herself. Her cute little feet stumbled almost drunkenly around the well-known room as she went to the coffeepot. Her long chocolate tresses with honey brown highlights were pulled into two braided rows on her head with the shorter tresses sticking out. Her eyes were still heavy-lidded with sleep, hiding the most beautiful of her features.
"I'm sorry Mary, but I'm not your boyfriend," he replied.
"Tristan?!" she gasped, spinning around.
"Hey Mary, how's it going?" he grinned, suddenly aware of how his body ached to hold her at this moment.
As if reading him perfectly, she dashed across the room and crushed herself against his chest, her arms wrapped firmly around his neck. Taking it as an invitation, he wrapped his own arms around her torso and pulled her to him tightly.
"Oh God, I've missed you so much," she breathed not ready to let go yet.
"I've missed you too."
"Man, senior year in Hell wasn't the same without you. I had no one to bicker with, except Paris, and well, no one deserved that."
"Hey, I'd rather Paris than Drill Sergeants."
"No you wouldn't if she were Pres. and you were VP."
"Really?" he grinned finally pulling away.
"Yeah, she roped me into it after a panic attack."
Letting go, she let her arms fall back to her sides, but her eyes rested on his beautiful face.
Under her scrutiny, he could feel his face grow hot. Turning for a second, he tried to find words to say to her. Words that would take her eyes from him and let his heart and his breathing return to normal again.
"So, um, ya' gunna' let me in?"
Lame Tristan, real lame, he groaned to himself. You haven't seen her since Junior year of high school and you still can't come up with something better than that? What did they teach you in Oxford?
"Yeah, sure," she smiled opening the door wider.
Entering the large apartment, he found one large, lofty room, separated by the four corners into four separate rooms. They were very, Rory, but then again, not. In the large sitting area was a large fireplace. Facing it was a couple of large overstuffed, very comfortable couches with a surplus of throw pillows. On the wall adjoining the fireplace hung a large, flat-screened TV with a small wooden desk that revealed a DVD player and VCR inside. On the dark hardwood floor laid a large Native American rug with a stylish coffee table sitting atop it. Next to each couch were matching nightstands with matching monkey lamps sitting atop them.
On the opposite corner was the dining room. It was pretty impressive for such a relaxed setting. The large windows were opened as the light spilled into the room. In the middle stood a huge, cherry table with a long, cranberry piece of material running down the middle with a bowl of fruit sitting on top of it. Beautiful cranberry colored chair covers covered the large, straight-backed chairs. On the exposed brick walls were black and white photos by an unknown artist. A spotless white rug was placed under the table, making the entire room look elegant, save the candlelight chandelier helped to set the ambiance too.
At another corner of the room was the kitchen and breakfast nook. The kitchens appliances were all black, but everything else was a splash of color. On the "wall" that separated the kitchen from the dining room sat a large . . . cupboard. It was really a large glass structure made of little square openings. In each opening was an assortment of colorful coffee mugs, wine glasses, juice jugs and glasses. They seem to radiate a sort of playfulness to the sort of mature apartment. All the cupboards in the kitchen had glass doors so one could see inside. A counter separated the actual kitchen from the small breakfast nook where light danced around the room as if it were a solarium. There was a small country styled table with matching chairs. Against the walls were window seats with a cushion that had little coffee cups floating on clouds.
Multicolored glass walls enclosed the last corner. From the open door, it seemed to be a study. The walls were covered in mounted bookshelves, filled with hundreds of heavy bound and paperback books. There were a couple of bleak file cabinets that were decorated with colorful magnets, stickers and photos. On a large desk there was a cream-colored computer, cluttered with post-its and other papers. A fax machine was currently printing out a sheet. Other miscellaneous things synonymous with an office were in this room.
"Nice place ya' got here," he smiled finally looking back at her.
Suddenly the loud barking of a dog penetrated their world again. Tristan's eyes trailed towards the two doors on the side of the dining room and sitting room where the sound seemed to have originated.
Ignoring it, Rory walked towards the kitchen she stopped at one of the two coffee machines, "Would you like some coffee?"
"You're still a coffee-holic, huh?" he grinned following him.
"You say addiction, I say a lifesaver. Potato, patata . . ." she grinned looking up again.
"I saw you yesterday at the banquet."
"I saw you too."
"You never said hi."
"I did, I even said welcome, but you never said anything back."
"When?"
"Yesterday morning. Do you remember a jogger running into your platoon as you arrived at your hotel?"
"That was you?"
"The one and only!"
"But the Mary I knew never exercised?"
"And the Tristan I knew would have said hi, but then again you were too busy searching for your next bed bunny."
"Hey, so were you, with the cook."
"Whatever," she grinned.
Suddenly they turned at the sound of a door opening, and instantly the barking stopped. Instead a large, no, HUGE chocolate dog came bounding out of the room with a grin on his face.
"Watch out," she warned as she turned back to Tristan, "He knocks me over pretty often, and it hurts a f-in lot."
"This your dog?" he asked with a raised brow.
"Yeah, he's a Newfoundland, the second biggest dog in the world. His name is Mocha. But he also answers to Fred."
"What?"
"Long story, but let's just say that Lane liked it."
"Yeah, is she the one that you were talking to yesterday? The one who kept pointing at me?"
"Yeah, but you were staring back."
"I didn't recognize you. You look so different, more mature, more beautiful. The only thing that I recognized where your eyes."
"Then how did you find out it was me? And how did you get my address? And why are you here?"
"My advisor, Jackson informed me to who you were. You remember him, the one you slammed into. He gave me your address and I took a cab here. As for why, well I've got some time off before I take up my position, so I was thinking, can you be my tour guide?"
"I do have work, M. DuGrey."
"Take off a day or two, please?" he asked poking out his lip in a immature pout.
"Yeah, whatever. Anyway I'll just say I'm interviewing you, so I'll still get paid."
"Good lie." He smiled.
"It's not a lie. Have you ever seen your agenda? I do have an interview scheduled with you."
"That's what Jackson's for."
"Whatever. Let me go call up work and then we can catch up."
Taking it from the cradle, Rory began to dial the office.
"Good morning Jocelyn, it's Lorelei. Mr. Duval please?"
"Good morning Mr. Duval . . .yes, everything's fine . . . no, uh I called to say that I wouldn't be in today, or tomorrow . . . I'll be working, but not in the office . . . the American is here . . . yes I will, we went to high school together, we're just catching up on old times . . . yes, I'll call you tomorrow and I'll interview him, bye . . .A demain!"
"So you're out of work, huh?"
"Yes, and you seem to have a reputation," she grinned turning back to him.
"Why?"
"He told me to watch out for you. That's sad, my own boss is warning me against you. I guess you haven't changed all that much from high school."
"Hey, I've changed lots, I just haven't changed my lady loving routine."
"You're an idiot!" she laughed heading towards the couch, then motioning for him to follow.
"So whose Dave?" he asked settling beside her.
"Lane's boyfriend. He's moving in this summer, or she's moving out. I'm not sure, they haven't decided yet."
"If she moves, will you?"
"No way, I love this apartment, I'd never leave," she smiled as Mocha jumped on the couch in the space between him and rested his head on her lap.
"So ya' still with Bagboy?"
"Who's- oh, Dean! No way! We broke up senior year."
"Oh, what happened?"
"Jess happened," Lane announced as she exited her bedroom.
"Who's Jess?"
"Her step-cousin."
"Lane!"
"Mary!" they yelled simultaneously.
Turning back to Tristan she tried to redeem herself, "He wasn't my cousin then."
"What was he, your brother?"
"No," she sighed exasperated, "He was Luke's nephew and the supplier of my coffee."
"How's he your step-cousin then?"
"Mom and Luke got married after we broke up."
"Why'd you break up?"
"We were too familiar with each other; it was like dating my brother or something. We were better friends than lovers."
"Do you ever have a bad break-up?"
"Her break-up with Dean was pretty horrible," Lane added.
"What happened?"
"He broke up with her in the middle of a dance contest with the whole town staring."
"Why?"
"Because the whole night I was ogling at Jess, and when we weren't staring, we were arguing over his choice of girlfriend, and the tension from what happened before Sookie's wedding."
"What happened at Sookie's wedding?" he asked, not even sure who Sookie was.
"She kissed him, while still with Dean."
"Man, you sure kiss a lot of other people," he grinned referring back to their kiss at Madeline's party.
"I thought we were never going to talk about that again?"
"Whatever."
She rolled her eyes and scratched Mocha behind the ears. Looking down at him she puckered her lips and placed a kiss on his nose. "Hey baby."
"So what Chilton gossip have you heard?"
"Uh, remember, I wasn't in the loop with the Chilton kids? I guess there are a couple things I know. Uh, Louise is on marriage number two, and Madeline is still happily married to the guy that knocked her up in college. They are as happy as one could be in a marriage without love. Uh, Lane, what was up with Henry again?" she asked turning to her best friend.
"Uh, Henry got married at eighteen to a beautiful Korean girl that his parents set him up with, and he's studying to be a neurologist."
"I think that's about all the stuff we've got."
"Wait, I heard something about Paris getting married?"
"Oh, I forgot!" Rory said slapping herself on the forehead.
"Can I tell him? Please can I tell him?"
"Tell me what?"
"Go ahead," Rory smiled kissing Mocha on the head.
"What?" Tristan asked looking almost painfully at Lane.
"Well ya' see, after Rory and Jess broke up, Rory felt like being Rodger Lodge on Blind Date, and decided that she'd play matchmaker. So she set up Jess and Paris, and now they're married. Now Paris is her step-cousin-in-law."
"Really?"
"Yeah, Jess even wanted her to be the best man, but she let Luke do it, and let Paris take her as maid of honor."
"Aw, Rory and Paris finally made up. Man, I couldn't believe that Paris was getting married before you."
"I could."
"Oh please, you sit in front of a guy a long as we have dressed like that, you'd be getting thirty proposals per hour."
"Ok, and that's my cue to go," she sighed untangling her legs from beneath her.
"Hey, from this view you'd be getting fifty," he called after her.
As she strode away from him, he spotted the small black character, the size of a thumbprint on her back, just underneath the strap of her tank.
"Mary, is that a tattoo I spy?"
"Yes," she sighed rubbing the little mark awkwardly.
"When did you get it?"
"Summer after I graduated from Chilton. Mom and I backpacked through Europe for three months and one night in Amsterdam we saw a tattoo parlor and decided to do it. We decided on matching ones."
"What do they mean?"
"Unbreakable," she replied before shutting the door to her bedroom.
He said nothing as he pondered her words. He understood what they meant. Their bond, the mother daughter bond was unbreakable. Their love was unbreakable. Their souls, their lives, they were inseparable; nothing could tear them apart. Nations couldn't separate them, words couldn't hurt them, they were a part of each other like yin and yang, without one another, the other would make no sense.
"Ya' still in love with her, huh?"
Swiveling his head, his eyes clashed with Lane's dark brown ones. She looked so serious as she cradled the coffee cup in her hands and studied him.
"I . . ."
"It's none of my business really, but if you hurt her so help me God, you will wish to God that you were never born. There are way too many people in this world that care about her, and if you break her heart, you will never be safe. You might think it's funny, but it's not. This is so real you really don't want to test it."
"I care about her, and I won't do anything to hurt her, I promise."
"Good, now let's talk about something else. My band has a gig at a local bar tonight . . ."
TBC . . .
A/N: hope you guys like this, R&R pweeeezzzzz!