Disclaimer: C chappie #1, oh, and I don't own "Stellar" by Incubus (the best band ever!) o o
A/N: For those who said it was out of character for Rory to have a tattoo, I just have to ask this: It wasn't out of character for Rory to kiss Jess when she was still with Dean? It wasn't out of character for Rory to kiss Tristan out of the blue? It wasn't out of character for Rory to blow up her Dad or her grandparents? Rory does a lot of things that would be constituted as out of character, and yet no one says anything about those. I don't think it's out of character for Rory to get a tattoo with her mother b/c their relationship is so strong. Yeah, it may seem like something more to Lorelei's effect, but Rory is a lot like her, and I just think it adds to their mother- daughter bond and their tight relationship.
Torn III:
Music pounded in her ears. It's loud, erratic, beat pounding simultaneously with her heartbeat.
Just breathe, she told herself as she weaved between the multitudes of people in the smoky nightclub. She was trying her damnedness not to think about the arm wrapped around her waist, clenching ever so slightly around her.
When they'd arrived in the club, she'd taken his hand to make sure he didn't get lost. She tried not to pay attention to the warmth rising from the spot where their fingers fused and rose up her arm. Leading him towards the stage, she felt herself jerk when he'd stopped. Turning to find the disturbance, she felt her spine tremble from the intense glare that he focused on the young man before him. She almost felt sorry for the guy as he cowered at the glare and shrunk back into the crowd. When he turned back to her, she tried to hide the smile from her features. Turning back to face the stage, she felt his arm wrap around her torso, and pressed her back flush against his chest.
"So I won't lose you," he murmured with his lips so close to her ear that she could feel them brush against her.
Tucking the bottom of her lip between teeth, she bit into it to fight the moan ready to escape her lips and make her slump against his hard, tight frame.
"Rory!" Lane shouted as she spotted her best friend.
All too ready to escape from his grasp, she ran to her best friend and hugged her.
"Hey Lane," and letting go she turned to Dave and repeated the gesture, "Hey Dave."
"Hey Ror, who's the guy?"
"Oh, Dave, this is Tristan, Tristan, this is Dave, Lane's boyfriend."
"Hi," Dave smiled taking Tristan's hand.
"Nice to meet you. Both the girls have been talking loads about you," Tristan smiled finally letting go.
"Rory, this guy seems familiar. Where do I know him from?"
"Chilton yearbook, and now he's the American attorney."
"You guys went to school together?"
"Yeah-"
"Guys, sorry but we can meet and greet later. We're on in ten babe," Lane interrupted turning to Dave.
"Ok Rory and Tristan, I'll see you guys after the show."
"Would you like something to drink?" She smiled turning away.
"Yeah," he answered following her as she headed for the bar.
When they'd reached the bar, they'd both ordered their drinks from a bartender who already knew Rory took a margarita with a twist.
"You come here often?"
"I stop by whenever." She answered, nonchalantly. "Lane's band is a regular around here, so whenever I can, I come and get a drink. I usually just hang around with friends."
Suddenly, as if on cue, a young man and woman simultaneously yelled, "Lorelei!"
Turning at the name, her expression lit up as she held them both in her arms.
"Wow, how have you been? I haven't seen you two in awhile," she grinned pulling away.
"Here and there," the girl smiled, eyeing Tristan slyly, "So guess what?"
"What?"
"We're opening up the Café, the grand opening is next Saturday. Can you come?" The guy asked, eyeing Tristan suspiciously.
"Oui, just ring me with the rest of the info, and I might even find a critic to accompany the grand opening."
"Bon," he grinned.
"Lorelei, who is the young man standing behind you with a confused look on his face?" The woman asked.
"Oh, sorry, how rude of me," she said before turning to introduce Tristan, "Marc and Nicole, this is Tristan. Tristan, these are a couple of friends, Marc and Nicole."
"Nice to meet you," they both said as they ceremoniously kissed his cheek. Then turning to Rory, "Ashley and Benjamin will be here in a few moments, would you like to get a table?"
"Sure," she smiled ruffling her hair back.
Heading straight for the crowds of people, they found an empty table, big enough to accommodate their party of six and sat on the tall stools.
"So Tristan, how long have you known our dear Lorelei?"
"Uh, we've known each other since sophomore year of high school. We met at a party last night and I got her to ditch a couple of days of work for me."
"What, Lorelei skipped work?"
"Whatever," she smiled.
"There's no whatever, he's corrupted you. I think we need to call America, Lorelei never misses out on work."
"I see Ashley and Ben," Marc said, waving his arm in the air, signaling their presence.
Sitting there, listening to her friends chattering away gaily, Tristan kept trying to focus on anything other than Rory.
Ever since he'd seen her walk out of her bedroom tonight, he couldn't help but stare at her, wondering if the angel beholden in his eyes were real or only a mere mirage.
God she looked so beautiful tonight. She was wearing a black, off the shoulders, peasant-styled top. Wrapped around her slim, swanlike neck was a black velvet choker with a small silver pendant attached. On her long, strong legs she wore tight, flattering navy blue jeans. On her feet she wore beaded sandals.
Her long, chocolate-kissed hair, with it's tiny, honey brown highlights hung down her back in gentle waves, curling luxuriously at the ends. Her hair wasn't fixed like yesterday, all limp and sophisticated, instead, it was free and less inhibited. It looked as if she'd just ran a bush through it, knowing it'd come out looking as beautiful as she'd hoped. It's full body, and silky length wrapped around her neck and cradled her face making her look even more cherubic, if that was possible.
Even from the night of the banquet, he still couldn't get over how beautiful she was. In high school, he'd remembered how her contemplative look had engulfed his thoughts during class, imprinting her face in his mind's eye permanently. But even now, with her 16-year-old face still as vivid in his mind as when he'd first seen it, he couldn't remember her this beautiful.
He'd seen her mother only twice, and even then they were only short glimpses where even if she stood before him he still wouldn't be sure if it was she. But if he'd placed those two Gilmore beauties beside one another, there'd be no mistaking their relation. Both their faces had those soft, graceful bone structures lying just beneath their pale skin. A light spray of freckles decorated their faces and skin, so light that they were hardly discernable. Their eyes were both the same shade of sapphire blue, with tiny flecks glinting like diamonds, radiating an incredible warmth from their mere sight. They both were tall and slim, curving simply like angels. Their hair had darkened to a now dark chocolate, and the honey brown highlights gave them a distinguished look. Their resemblances were so great, and their effect on men, just as striking.
As his eyes roamed over her new, precocious body, he didn't notice as the other couple escaped the table and retreated to the dance floor.
"I see you still have an unusual fascination with my ear?"
"What?" he asked, suddenly conscious of being spoken to.
"I remember in high school you were always caught looking at my ear."
"I wasn't-"
"Tristan DuGrey, what is your fascination with my ear? Is it one of those weird fetish things? Am I going to have to move? Are you going to stalk me or something?"
"Shut up, you're not very funny!"
"Actually, according to my Physic Friend, I am!"
"Did you get drunk?"
"Anyway, so what happened to you after the Romeo and Juliet play?"
"Wow, let's see. Uh, after my Dad yelled at me for about two hours, I boarded the plane to South Carolina where I finished my high school career a year early in Military School. After high school, I decided I couldn't go back there and bide by my parent's cockeyed views, so I went to Oxford. One day my friends and I took the ferry up here, and ever since I decided I was destined to live here. After I graduated from Oxford I went to Harvard to get my law degree. And now I am doing a law partnership here. So that's how I got here, what about you? What's your story?"
"Um, well after I graduated from Hell, I did something very unexpected . . . I went to Harvard," she joked. "Summer after freshman year in Harvard, I got an internship at the New York Times. They told me if I ever needed a job, they'd be happy to oblige me. So that opened up a lot of doors. Uh, I got a job there doing freelance in the summer of sophomore year. Then, junior year, I studied abroad in Nice for a semester. When I got back that summer, I was offered another internship and I took them up on their offer.
"Then senior year, after many long discussions with my mom, I decided I'd like to study here for a couple of years. I got in touch with the New York Times, and they set me up with an internship here with their Paris department. I mean, I'm basically working as a general dog's body to this total idiot, but I'm on my way to being a foreign correspondent. Plus, every once in awhile, they throw me a bone- like your interview."
"Wow, they must pay you well in order to get that apartment?"
"They pay me well enough, but the apartment I pay for with my inheritance."
"You're inheritance?"
"Yes, the Gilmore's provided a trust-fund for me, so I've been living off that. But I'm doing great, I love this city."
"Do you ever think you'll go back?"
"Most definitely. If I get married, I'm probably going to move back. It's already hell trying to pay for my long-distance phone calls. I mean my mom and I talk so much, if I don't move back to America, I'm going to go bankrupt!"
"That was me during college."
"Who were you calling so profusely? Your girlfriend?"
"My grandfather. He was living in the states and he was the only family contact I had all through college. He paid for my education because at that point my family had disowned me."
"What?"
"Yeah, but since they've taken me back. My grandfather left everything to me, and they decided that they couldn't let all that money go without a fight."
"Did he pass away?" she asked, her eyes wide with worry and concern.
"No, actually he's living here for awhile. He's staying in the hotel. I'll be living with him until I find my own place."
"Hmm, so how was Military School?"
"Uh, liberating," he breathed running his fingers through his hair with a nervous laugh.
"Why?"
"I was nobody. I didn't have to worry about saying the wrong thing to the wrong family about the gossip that was going around the grapevine. I didn't have to constantly put on a façade when I was around people. It was so hard to play a part of a boy that you despise-"
"You despised yourself?"
"Yes, I despised the 'King of Chilton.' I despised everything that he stood for. I hated having a flavor of the week. I hated being a stone cold bastard who couldn't stand up for himself. I hated pretending that my parent's affairs didn't hurt and that I didn't care when my mother left for a month in Marseille. I hated having to be this selfish asshole who couldn't even look himself in the mirror without begging to spit on that guy staring back at him and wishing him to hell. I hated hating myself and not knowing what to do about that."
"I didn't know that it was so hard for you. I thought you actually liked it."
"In the beginning I thought so too . . .and then you came," he whispered.
"What?"
"Yeah, when you came, you ruined everything. Nothing mattered to you, except the person within. And for me, I didn't know who in the hell that person was. I wanted to be civil to you. I wanted to get to know you. I wanted to be your friend . . .but I didn't know how. I didn't know how to act around you. You were like a breath of fresh air, and I'd been so used to breathing through my mouth and never really smelling it's sweetness that I needed to learn how to breathe through my nose again.
"And then I went to Military School, and everything was like a breath of fresh air. I made great friends that understood where I was coming from and were searching for the same thing. They needed to find themselves, I needed to find myself, and in the peacefulness that wasn't Hartford Society, I found Tristan DuGrey."
"And when you finally found him, what was he like?"
"He was a cool guy," Tristan grinned.
She didn't say anything for a few long moments, digesting the information. Finally,
"Why didn't you come back?" she breathed.
"I was afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Afraid that my parents would try to shove me into the world I'd tried so desperately to escape. Afraid that when people saw the real Tristan DuGrey, they wouldn't be as accepting as my friends at Military School. Afraid that everything that I'd worked on would vanish as soon as Hartford Society got their claws into me again. Afraid of everything that I used to hate."
"I missed you," she said, her eyes turned towards the dance floor.
He didn't say anything as he studied the silhouette of her profile in the dark room.
A few unspoken moments passed in which both parties were totally immersed in their own thoughts. With her face turned away from his, she tried to discern the feelings whizzing around her head like dodge balls. And with his eyes resting on the gentle curve of her ear, he wondered what was it about her that made these feelings arise and made him feel so good.
"Tristan," she whispered, her eyes directed towards the dance floor, "Would you like to dance?"
"Yeah," he murmured lifting himself from the stool.
When they reached the dance floor, she turned to him, her eyes avoiding his face as she placed her arms around his neck and moved closer to him. He didn't say anything as he wrapped his arms around her waist and leaned a little closer, letting his face rest in the curve of her neck.
In a matter of moments, the loud, erratic beats of drums mellowed, and the simple, beautiful voice of Lane lifted like air around them, gently encircling them. The soft strumming of the guitar, beating of the drums, and keyboard gave the illusion of a far-off world where only they existed, and the rise and fall of her voice.
"Meet me in outer space. / We could spend the night; / watch the earth come up. / I've grown tired of that place; / won't you come with me? / We could start again..."
She ducked her head slightly, the spicy, yet subtle scent of his cologne making her drunk with want; the feel of his hot breath dancing across her scorching skin was sending little tremors down her spine; and the feel of him, pressed against her was making it increasingly hard to think rationally.
"How do you do it? / Make me feel like I do? / How do you do it? / It's better than I ever knew . . ."
He didn't know how such a simple song could capture his emotions so fully, but he thanked God in heaven that it was written. For the first time in his life, it wasn't about hurrying her up so she could get in his bed faster . . . for the first time it was wishing that this moment never stopped. For the first time in his life, he wanted to stay in this perfect piece of heaven- holding the one person he'd ever really cared about- never wanting anything more than to stay in her arms, swaying with the voices of the angels.
"Meet me in outer space. / I will hold you close, / if you're afraid of heights. / I need you to see this place, / it might be the only way that I can show you / how if feels to be inside you . . ."
Her eyes fluttered close and his scent intoxicated her senses. She felt herself retreating to a place she only knew as a child- a place where nothing mattered except this moment; a place where everything was safe, and worrying was overrated. She hadn't felt so comfortable with another person since she'd last kissed her mother's forehead and told her that she'd call when she got to the loft.
Letting her body relax to his, she rested her head on his shoulder while her hand crawled up his neck to the nape, gently playing with the hair there. Exhaling slowly, she could feel his hands inch up her back until it rested between her shoulder blades, and his fingers made little swirls on her skin.
"How do you do it? / Make me feel like I do? / How do you do it? / It's better than I ever knew . . ."
His fingers sank into the gentle waves of her hair, getting lost in their luxurious depths. Tenderly messaging her scalp, a sudden burst of perfume escaped the silky folds, causing him to involuntarily nuzzle closer to the enticing scent and breathe in the scent of her.
And then her breath swept past him and he felt the light brush of her lips across his skin. Unconsciously, his mouth lowered to her ear where his lips gently brushed against its small curve.
"You are stellar . . ."
After many long moments, she lifted her face, her eyes gazing into his, the tiniest of twinkles shining in them.
He immediately read the look of hesitance, and prayed that what he was doing would be all right.
Slowly his lips made their way to hers and he could hear the soft sound of her exhaling in anticipation. His lips dipped meditatively, their lips so close that they softly brushed against one another as they parted, and before he could press his lips to hers-
Nicole's voice penetrated their world.
"What?" Rory asked, her eyes still on his, except this time, the dazed look was gone, being replaced with one of concern.
"I said, Ashley, Ben, Marc and I were heading out and going someplace more quiet, would you two like to come?"
Turning to stare at her friend, reality slammed back into her like a freight train at full speed. It took a few moments for Nicole's words to register before Rory shook her head.
"Sorry Nicole, but we promised Lane and Dave we'd stay and then hang with them. I'll see you later?"
"Yeah, sure," Nicole smiled, although obviously perturbed that she hadn't decided to join them.
When Nicole turned away, she looked back at Tristan, "Would you like something to drink? Suddenly I'm feeling very thirsty."
"Yeah, water."
"Ok, I'll be back, I'll meet you at the table."
Tristan watched as Rory ambled towards the bar and ordered two drinks. Her body language was so tense and uncertain that he could detect it from twenty feet away. He wondered where would that little moment put them . . . would they try to work past it, or would she end up running away like she did in high school?
TBC . . .
A/N: hoped you like this one, it was kind of fun to write. R&R pweez.
W/ luv,
Yo-yo