Title: Opposing Forces
Author: Silver Blood
Summary: "You underestimate me. I won't give up until I've had you. And as I've said before: I will have you, Rory. Because you want me too." Darkish Trory.
A/N: So basically, I spent about a week working on revising the chapters of this that I had so far, and then my computer decided to crash. Twice. Which is why I hate Vista. So this is actually the third time I'm revising this…
Chapter One: Satan, at Your Service
There was something about the way he moved that always alerted her to his presence. She could never describe it, or the way it pulled at something inside of her.
Seeing his confidence and grace of movement comforted her, at the same time sending a nervous thrill to her stomach.
She was convinced that Tristan DuGrey was sex personified.
She watched him out of the corner of her eye. He was walking on the opposite side of the hall, waiting for Rory to signal whether he should approach or not.
It was a game they played. As she met his eyes, she looked down. If she looked back up, she knew he'd smirk at her. If she kept her eyes averted, he would approach her. It seemed to be some form of punishment for her shyness.
He'd done it before; many times since he'd dubbed her 'Mary,' or more appropriately 'His Mary.' That simple act had changed things immensely.
Rory knew life at Chilton could have been worse for her. High-school kids could be cruel, especially to a scholarship student. But as she'd immediately caught the attention of Chilton's own Golden Boy, she'd somehow earned an odd sort of acceptance. They left her alone only because Tristan refused to.
This time, Rory met his gaze only seconds after she'd broken away, her eyes dark and stone-cold. He could see that she was angry, but not with him.
Although tempted to approach her, he didn't. He wouldn't break their unspoken rule, as she knew. So he smirked, a bitter twisting of his lips, and walked on.
He hadn't spoken to her all day, and she knew why. She was practically radiating anger. Her fury was palpable even to Paris, who refrained from torturing her for once.
But her luck was never kind. Or maybe it just had a warped sense of humor.
Before she'd even reached her locker after last bell, Tristan was waiting for her, blocking her from it.
"Mary."
"Satan."
He grinned in response to her greeting and tipped an imaginary hat.
"At your service."
Leaning against her locker, he cocked his head to the side and feigned nonchalance.
"So, I was thinking-"
"No."
He was still smiling.
"One day, Mary, you'll say yes."
She glared.
"I'm not in the mood, Tristan."
He chuckled at her expense.
"Well the second you are, you just let me know and I'll do what I can."
Rory rolled her eyes and attempted to push past him, only to be wedged between her locker and the hard, male body belonging to the one person she wanted more than anything to hate.
He leaned to whisper in her ear, and she fought chills.
"I want you, and before this is over, I'll have you. And you'll be begging for more."
He blew gently on the back of her neck, but as soon as he felt her melt, he backed off.
The frustration that had been bubbling up in Rory all day was reaching its boiling point. Turning quickly, she gave him her best withering stare.
"Get lost, Tristan."
He laughed, mocking her attempt at rudeness.
"Wow, kitten's really got her claws out now."
He watched her eyes flash as she fought the emotions threatening to explode out of her. Her eyes did something to him. Every time he glimpsed them full of emotion, he could no longer be held accountable for his actions.
Checking that the hall was deserted, he made his move.
Before she knew what was happening, his hands were on her hips, pulling her closer.
"Purr for me, kitty."
As his lips found her neck, Rory was compelled to acquiesce. But something in her nature was pushing at him, pushing him away.
Though he sensed what was about to happen, Tristan had no time to move before Rory's knee came up sharply between his legs.
He dropped to his knees.
"Jesus Christ!"
Rory found that some of her tension had escaped.
"I thought I was Mary, Tristan? Make up your mind."
She was almost laughing now, her mood considerably brighter. The look on his face was priceless, though somewhere deep down she did feel guilty for having injured him.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Rory scoffed, finally opening her locker while continuing to eye Tristan and shoving her books into her bag.
"Just because I don't want your hands on me doesn't mean something is wrong with me."
The sound of her locker slamming shut echoed down the empty hallway. She started toward the entrance, but his voice stopped her. It was more the tone than the actual words that sent a chill down her spine.
"You underestimate me. I won't give up until I've had you. And as I've said before: I will have you, Rory. Because you want me too."
Without denying his bold statement, Rory walked out of the building.
