Rory's eyes fluttered open and she glanced over at the alarm clock beside her bed. It was eight twenty. She had just enough time, as usual, to get dressed, go get breakfast and make it to her ten o'clock class. She climbed out of her bed slowly and stretched before walking into the bathroom and climbing into the shower.

After her shower, Rory dried off and slipped into a short jean skirt and a teal tank top. She pulled her hair back into a loose bun and put on just enough make up to add some color to her face. She smiled at her reflection in the mirror before leaving her rooming and heading toward the cafeteria.

When she arrived at the cafeteria she went and got some frosted flakes, some milk and a cup of coffee before scanning the tables for someone she knew. She spotted Paris sitting alone in the middle of the room. Rory walked over and plopped down in the chair across from Paris. For a second neither of them spoke while Rory poured her milk onto her cereal and added sugar to her coffee. Paris was the first one to break the silence.

"Sorry about yesterday," Paris said, taking a bite of her omelet. Rory just nodded and smiled at her before taking a bite of her cereal.

"I saw Tristan again last night," Rory said, watching for Paris's reaction. A surprised expression came over Paris's face.

"Really?" Paris asked, obviously curious about what had happened.

"Yeah. We went to some restaurant and talked," Rory replied, taking another bite of her breakfast. She wasn't completely sure if she wanted to tell Paris everything that had happened.

"And?" Paris asked, watching Rory with a knowing expression on her face.

"And he asked me if he could kiss me," Rory said, laughing when she saw the look of shock on her friend's face.

"He ASKED you?" Paris asked, looking at Rory like she had just grown an extra head. Rory giggled and took another bite of her cereal.

"Yeah. I know. I was just as surprised as you are. I think that's why I said yes," Rory said, looking down at her cereal so she couldn't see the jealousy or concern that she knew she would see in Paris's eyes.

"Oh," Paris said, making Rory wait for her to continue and when Paris didn't say anything more Rory looked up into her friends eyes.

"I know how much you liked him at Chilton, Paris," Rory said, "I'm sorry." Paris just shook her head and smiled at Rory.

"He's a guy from my past. Nothing more," Paris said, giving her friend a reassuring smile.

"Okay. Then there is something I need to talk to you about," Rory said, her concern for what she needed to talkabout was apparent in her eyes and her voice. Paris watched her, waiting for Rory to continue.

"He was so sweet and I really don't want to hurt him. I'm just worried that he might just be like a rebound guy for me to get over Dean," Rory said, watching Paris for her reaction. Paris smiled.

"Well, who we're you thinking about when you kissed him?" Paris asked. Tears came into Rory's eyes and she stared down at the table.

"Both of them," Rory replied, honestly. Paris nodded.

"Well, I'm not a psychology major or anything but it sounds like you have feelings for both of them," Paris replied, Rory nodded in agreement. She glanced up at Paris.

"What should I do about that?" Rory asked. Paris looked at her like she was crazy because to Paris the answer was obvious.

"Dean is going back with his wife, Rory. Things would never have worked out between you two. Go for Tristan," Paris replied. She saw the pain in Rory's eyes but knew that Rory knew that it was the truth. There was no going back now. Dean had to be left behind. He had to be just another great memory of her past.

Tristan pulled his new black jeep up the long circular driveway that led to the mansion he had been raised in. Well, at least until he was sixteen when his dad had decided to send him off to military school. Tristan hadn't been back to the house since that day. Once he graduated from military school he decided that he wanted to work in a place like that so at the present tiem that was what he was doing. He was doing what he needed to do to work there. He had seen what harsh treatment young men and women got in places like that, at least the one he went to, and what he wanted more than anything was to make a difference. The only way he knew to do that was to become a teacher and be the kind of person those kids could actually look up to and depend on. Someone his own father had never been.

Tristan's father was a hard man. Everything his son did had been wrong. Tristan's safe haven, as you could call it, was his grandparents home. His father had never hit him or hurt him physically but mentally Tristan had almost been scarred for life. His parents had split up when he was twelve and suddenly his dad was bringing a different woman home every week. He had never wanted Tristan but he refused to let Tristan's mom have him. His dad's family had more money than his mothers and that's all ithad taken to make sure Tristan would never go to her.

Tristan stopped in front of the tall, oak door that led into the main hall of the house. He figured when he knocked a maid would answer and he was right.

The maid who answered the door was a new one. He could tell that she was in her early twenties, she had black hair and emerald green eyes. He knew instantly why she had gotten the job and it had nothing to dowith how good she was at cleaning the house.

"Hi. Is Mr. Dugrey home?" Tristan asked, giving the young woman a warm smile.

"Yes, sir. May I ask who you are?" she asked.

"His son, Tristan," Tristan replied. The woman looked at him with a surprised expression on his face. Tristan didn't have to ask why. His father obviously hadn't even told the woman he had a son.

The surprise left the woman's face as soon as it had appeared as she stepped aside so Tristan could step into the hallway.

"Please wait here," she replied, "I'll gotell Mr. Dugrey your here," she paused before adding, "Your father." Tristan nodded as she hurried down the hall to find his father.

He thought he must have been waiting for an hour when he saw his father finally start walking down the hallway toward him. His father stopped a few feet away with the same hard expression on his face that Tristan remembered.

"Tristan," Mr. Dugrey said, barely acknowledging Tristan's presence.

"Dad," Tristan replied, hating the way his father was still standing at least three feet away and seemed to refuse to meet Tristan's eyes. Mr. Dugrey sighed and ran his hand through his thinning, brown hair.

"I'm sorry but I can't invite you in," Tristan's father said, "We are having a dinner party tonight." Tristan's eyebrow raised at the word 'we'.

"We?" Tristan asked, curiously. His father glared angrily at Tristan.

"Yes, we, Tristan. I've gotten remarried," Mr. Dugrey replied, "You would have known as much if you would have at least written."

"Don't talk to me about writing," Tristan replied, angrily, "You never even once called the school to see how I was." Tristan's father walked over to him and raised his fist to hit Tristan but moments before Mr. Dugrey could make contact Tristan threw his own punch, knocking his father down on the hard floor.

Tristan walked over to the man he had hated his entire life and looked down at him. There was blood running from his nose as he looked up at Tristan, a surprised expression on his face. Tristan just glared at him.

"I'm a man now, dad," Tristan said, glaring at his father before walking out the door. Before walking back to his jeep he turned back to the door.

"Don't ever forget it," Tristan whispered before climbing into his jeep and speeding away from his childhood home for the last time.