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Darasun --- I appreciate your compliments very much because I love all of your stories, so it's a huge deal :) THANKS!
Liz Darcy --- I'm glad you enjoyed the last chapter so much. If one person likes it, that's all that matters. . . even though I like it more when lots of people like it :)
TO EVERYONE ELSE WHO REVIEWED: I love you so much! You are all the best people ever, and honestly, I appreciate every review I get, even if it is negative.
A/N: This is the longest chapter I have ever written in the history of all my stories, so I hope you appreciate that :) That isn't saying much, because it's only a little over 2, 300 words and many of you out there write much more than that, but it is good for me. So yay me. Anyways, remember, 'if you review, I'll love you!'
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"I am so full," Rory complained, patting her stomach gingerly as they walked out of the pizza parlor. "I can't believe you let me eat an entire pizza!"
"Hey," Tristan protested, holding his hands up in mock defense. "I did not let you. I tried to warn you that it might have tasted good while you ate it, but you would regret it afterwards. See, what did I tell you?"
"Well, you should have been more forceful," Rory argued weakly.
"You made your bed, and now you have to lie in it." Tristan wagged his finger at Rory and smirked at her. Casually, he slung his arm around her shoulder and impulsively pulled her closer to him. She breathed in his scent and a small smile formed on her lips. He smells like deodorant, cologne, and soap all mixed together. . . mmmm.
"So," he said, jolting her out of her thoughts. "What do we do now, Mary?"
Rory grinned. "You know, that's the first time you've called me that and it hasn't entirely annoyed me."
"So it only annoys you a little bit?"
"Just a smidgen," she replied, holding up her thumb and forefinger as if to show just how much.
"We could just go for a walk," she finally suggested with a shrug of her shoulders. "You know, talk. . . let me get to know the real Tristan DuGray." She poked him in the ribs teasingly. "Not the playboy, sex-crazed version."
Tristan laughed lightly. "Hey, I can make no promises that I will not continue to be sex-crazed with you beside me, looking all gorgeous. . ." At this Rory's face turned a light crimson as she nervously tugged on her shirt sleeves. "But that walk sounds good to me. We can go down by the boardwalk, I think there might be some sort of festival going on. . . are you in to that kind of stuff?"
Rory pulled away from him and put her hand on her chest dramatically. "I can't believe you just asked me that question. Do I, Lorelai Leigh Gilmore, like festivals?"
"I'll take that as a yes," Tristan replied dryly, holding out his hand. "Lets go, then."
As they walked down the sidewalk, a comfortable silence settled around them. The air was crisp and cool as the signs of autumn seemed to be thrust at them; walnut trees were yellowing and the maples were a vibrant shade of dark red and purple. The music of crickets chirping in hedges and shrubs that surrounded them sounded in their ears. Rory felt a shiver slide up her spine.
Without thinking, Tristan took of his sweater and handed it to Rory. Grateful, she slipped it over her head; the sleeves hung well past her fingertips and the hem reached just above her knees. She laughed in spite of herself and turned towards Tristan. "What do you think?"
Tristan smirked. "Perfect fit." Though you could wear a garbage bag and still look great, he thought to himself.
"So," Rory initiated. "What's your favorite movie?"
Tristan raised his eyebrows. "We're playing this game, are we?"
"I just want to find out more about you," Rory replied honestly. "Right now, you're sort of a mystery to me."
"The Rain Man," Tristan said with a demure smile. "You?"
"I never pegged you for a Rain Man type of guy," Rory said with a laugh. "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, hands down."
Tristan smiled. "I should have known. The only movie dedicated solely to junk food."
Rory nodded proudly. "That's right."
"Favorite CD?" Tristan asked.
"I can't pick just one," Rory replied, shaking her head adamantly. "It's impossible."
"Agreed," Tristan stated, smiling. "Though I am sort of partial to The Village People."
Rory was silent for a moment. "I can't believe you just said that."
"Let's just keep that between you and I, all right?"
"I don't think I can see you anymore," Rory said vacantly, pulling away from him. "I mean, c'mon, The Village People? My mother would have you committed."
Tristan laughed. "I was only kidding," he said, back tracking.
"Uh huh," Rory replied, her tone disbelieving. "You just keep digging your hole."
"Um, favorite junk food?" He attempted to change the subject.
"M&M's. Favorite television show?"
"I don't watch much television," Tristan said, laughing at the look of shock that crossed Rory's face. "I'd rather be out doing other things. . . you know, like this." He nudged her playfully with his elbow.
Rory smiled. "Well, you had lost a couple brownie points for a second with the no TV thing, but you definitely earned some more with that smooth comment."
Tristan smirked. "I knew it."
As the boardwalk came into view, Rory looked like a little girl in a candy store. There were small but amusing fair rides such as bumper-boats, a small Ferris-Wheel, and a colossal trampoline that seemed to be the size of Stars Hollow. "This is so cute," Rory said, picking up her pace to get there quicker and taking everything in.
The welcoming smell of buttered popcorn filled the air, almost making her mouth water for some, and the smell of roasting peanuts and cotton candy mixed together created a wonderful scent of sweetness. The sound of laughter and chatter traveled through the wind, heard over the sound of carousel music and game attendants trying to lure unsuspecting people into knocking over three milk bottles for a dollar. Clowns walked up and down the stone streets handing out colorful balloons and flyers advertising face painting and fortune telling.
"What do you want to do first?" Rory asked, as she thanked the colorful clown for the pink balloon he handed to her.
"You're choice."
"What about the --- oh look, street performers! Let's go watch!" Rory said eagerly, pulling him by the wrist to where a man, who was wearing a helmet with a large spike on the top, had rigged a catapult and was instructing an innocent bystander on how to use it. He placed a head of lettuce onto the end of the catapult and when she pulled on a lever, the lettuce flew and he positioned himself so that the spike on his helmet speared it. Rory clapped for him and moaned in disappointment with the rest of the onlookers when he announced he only had one more act left.
Tristan smiled down at her. She acted like such a kid sometimes and he adored it; she made everything, (even something as simple as eating pizza by having a conversation with the toppings), fun. He was surprised that he could actually enjoy a girls company when her tongue wasn't in his mouth. He took this as a good sign.
"Now, I'm going to need two volunteers, preferably one male and one female," the performer requested, scanning the crowd for a couple that would catch his eye. "Oh you two are perfect," he said, looking at Rory and Tristan. Rory looked behind her to see who he had chosen, but saw no one and her eyes widened when she realized he was talking to them. "Oh, no, we just want to watch. . .," Rory tried to protest, but he had already taken both of them insistently by the arm and led them to the middle of the crowd.
"Now," he began, holding out four paddles, and asking them their names. He gave two to Rory and two to Tristan. One was labeled 'Him/her' and the other was labeled 'Me'. "I'm going to ask you a series of questions, and you have to hold up which one of you the question applies to."
Rory and Tristan shared an amused look with each other, but Tristan shrugged. "Why not?" he asked. "It could be fun."
The host stood them back-to-back so that they couldn't see the other's paddles. "Okay, I'm just going to ask you a couple of simple questions so that you get used to using the paddles. . . which one of you is named Tristan?" Tristan held up the paddle titled 'Me' and Rory held up 'Him/her'. After a few more general questions, he began reading off of a stack of cards he held in his hand.
"Which one of you 'wears the pants', if you will, in this relationship?" The audience laughed as both Tristan and Rory held up 'Me'.
"Who would be more inclined to have power of the remote control?" Tristan smiled, glad that he had let it be known that he didn't watch much television. "And we have a match," the host said, and the crowd applauded politely.
After about ten minutes of questioning, the host announced that it was time for the last question.
"Which one of you is most likely to remember when you first kissed?" Rory shifted uncomfortably as she thought about that question. They hadn't really kissed yet, only when he had practically forced himself on her that night at dinner. Hesitantly, she raised the 'Him/her' paddle.
"Looks like Tristan is having a little trouble deciding," the host announced, and Tristan mumbled something incoherently. "What was that?" The host put the microphone in front of Tristan. "Um, well," he said awkwardly, "We haven't really actually kissed yet," he admitted, and turned to face Rory, smiling sheepishly.
"Well, there's no time like the present. Why don't you show all of us what a first real kiss should be like?" Rory nervously looked around at all the curious people surrounding them and blushed, avoiding any eye contact with Tristan.
Tristan, however, just laughed and pulled Rory into a tight hug. "You'll have to settle for that," he said to the host, and then clapped him on the back as he led Rory away from the crowd.
Rory's pulse slowed down slightly from the anticipation she had been feeling, and she glanced up at Tristan. "Stage fright?" She questioned, a small smirk on her face. She was dissapointed that he hadn't taken the opportunity to kiss her. Maybe he just wants to be friends, Rory mused to herself as they made their way over to the rides.
"What do you say we take a ride on the Ferris-Wheel?" Tristan asked, leading her to a small line.
Rory frowned at his sudden change of subject, but went with it. "Sure." When it was their turn, Tristan stepped cautiously into the car and helped Rory in. They locked the bar across their waist and waited for it to go up. They sat in silence for a moment until Tristan spoke up.
"I know this will probably sound completely out of character for me, but I want to tell you something anyway."
Rory smiled at him, encouraging him to continue. "You're probably wondering why I didn't kiss you back there, and it wasn't because I didn't want to --- believe me, I wanted to, and it took a lot of restraint on my part not to." He subconsciously licked his lips, but went on. "It was because, even though I kissed you that time at your Friday night dinner, I don't necessarily think that counts. I didn't want our first mutual kiss to be in front of all those people," he admitted, letting out a slow breath. "As cheesy as that sounds."
Rory smiled. "A little more cheese and you could cover a pizza," she joked. "But that was sweet of you to take that into consideration. Thank-you."
Tristan laughed apprehensively. "I'm not used to this."
"Used to what?"
"Feeling fidgety and nervous around anyone. Before, I'll admit, I thought you would be just another girl. . . but you're not. Every minute that I spend with you, I like you more. You're so smart and fun. . . and I guess I just never thought I would actually develop feelings for anyone. . . no offense," he stammered, and Rory flushed at this.
"I think I'm starting to like the real you," Rory said. "This is the real you, isn't it?"
"As real as you can get," Tristan replied. "I'm not trying to feed you lines here, I swear. I'm just trying to be honest."
"I appreciate that. I think ---" Tristan cut her off by lightly pressing his lips to hers. There was no force or teasing involved this time, and he brought his hands to hers, lacing them together, instead of all the other times when they had roamed her body. It was a simple, clumsy, perfect first kiss. He pulled away and looked at her questioningly. "I'm sorry, I couldn't wait any longer."
Rory laughed, but her smile faded as Tristan leaned in again. He cupped her face with his hands and their lips crashed together again, this time more passionately. His toungue gently grazed her bottom lip and she allowed him to deepen the kiss. Her hands ran through his spiky hair, a difference from Dean's longer unstyled locks. All logical thinking when out the window when he captured her lower lip between his and an involuntary moan escaped her mouth.
When oxygen was a necessity, they both pulled away, slightly panting. He rested his forehead on hers. "Hi," she said quietly as she searched his face for any regret. She found none. "Hi," he said back, and smiled at her reassuringly. "I can safely say that's the best kiss I've ever had. Who taught you how to do that?"
Rory laughed and reddened slightly. "I don't think kissing is really a skill. . . it just all depends on who it is that you're kissing, and whether or not there's any chemistry. . . which, in this case, there most definately was," she said with an implied look.
"Well said," he replied, and turned to watch as the festival grounds got further away as the Ferris-Wheel went up, the small smile never leaving his lips.
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A/N --- Corny, yes I realize that, but I just went to the Buskers (a festival exactly like I described this one) and it was still fresh in my mind, so I figured, why not write about it? I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I would love to hear your feedback, so please, please, please review! Thank-you. :)