Chapter 3
"Well, that was quite a weekend," Tristan said. He walked beside Gretchen, a tall girl with honey blond hair, back inside the dorm. Rather than taking his hand and walking beside him like she normally did, she was a step ahead and not slowing down. It was late in the football season, and Yale played Princeton this weekend. Jamie had persuaded Paris to come for a visit, and Rory came along.
Tristan spent Saturday morning showing her around campus. She was genuinely interested in everything, as she'd never taken a tour of Princeton even though she had applied. She wanted to see where all of his classes were and his favorite library―as if he had one. He humored her and showed her the biggest one. Gretchen had tagged along all weekend. She and Rory got along well enough, as far as he could tell.
The weekend came to a resounding halt when Paris dumped Jamie. Tristan wasn't that surprised. "She's been sneaking around with a Yale professor," he told Gretchen. "An old one."
"Hmm," she said, non-committal. "I'm pretty tired, I'm going to hang out in my dorm."
Tristan touched her elbow to stop her. "Hey, you were quiet today. Are you okay?'
She pulled away from him to cross her arms. "You know? No. I'm not great."
Concerned, he frowned. "What's wrong?"
"Rory's just a friend, huh?" she asked. Before he could answer, she said, "You didn't look at her like a friend."
"What does that mean?"
"You looked at her like you're in love with her." Gretchen said it accusingly, like there was no room to argue. He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off, "And she was obviously disappointed to see me."
"That's not true. She was perfectly nice to you."
"You'd have to be blind to not see that she was practically swooning until you introduced me as your girlfriend," Gretchen protested. "And I felt like a third wheel all day."
"Gretchen, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was leaving you out."
"That's because you only had eyes for Rory," she said. "How did she know so much about what's going on with you? She knew things I didn't know."
"We email back and forth. A bit." He added, "We used to write letters—when I was at military school."
"Cute."
"I've just known her longer."
She averted her gaze, annoyed. Then she looked back at him. "So you tell her all about your life, but it was news that you had a girlfriend?" This time she wasn't as mad. She was hurt. When he reached for her, she stepped away. "You know what, Tristan? I don't think you should have a girlfriend right now."
"Gretchen, come on," he protested.
"No, you come on. If you want a place holder, find someone else. I don't want to play second string to some girl in Connecticut."
Tristan watched Gretchen walk away. He was good at watching girls walk away. But the reason this time—this was new.
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Hey! Sorry we left so abruptly. I had a good time, Princeton is such a pretty campus! Thanks for showing me around. It was nice meeting Gretchen, she seems great. Rory.
Tristan scanned Rory's quick email after his first class Monday morning. He took a sip of coffee and typed up a response. I'm glad you had fun, and that you got to come for the weekend. Gretchen is cool, but unfortunately, she decided she doesn't want to be my girlfriend anymore.
He didn't go into details. He wrapped it up and pressed send. He took another sip of coffee and stared out the window. It was a cold sunny day, the orange and yellow leaves had almost all fallen from the trees. Students hurried to their classes, either because they were late or wanted to get in from the cold.
Tristan had been happy to finally have a girlfriend after two years. He got to flirt and make out, etcetera, etcetera. Gretchen was smart and pretty. He met her while sitting outside his adviser's office. He was there to change his major, and Gretchen was waiting to discuss her classes for next semester. They struck up a conversation and he convinced her to meet up later. It only took ten minutes. He still had it.
This was alarming. He dated lots of girls at Chilton, even though he tried to fight Rory's boyfriend at a dance, even though he got caught staring at her in class. She didn't go to school here. How could she cause him problems now, from over a hundred miles away?
He wasn't hung up on her. She might be in the back of his mind, but she wasn't at the forefront. He had other things going on.
Paris wouldn't be coming to visit anymore, so it was safe to say Rory wouldn't either. It would probably be in his best interest to not mention her around other girls in the future. So she wouldn't be a problem. He wouldn't let her.
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Rory was really leaning into their new electronic means of communication. She also had a lot to vent about now that she was in college. It seemed she was having trouble adjusting. Her suitemates were loud and didn't get along. Plus one was Paris. Rory couldn't find the perfect place to study. Her editor thought her articles were boring, and she had to drop a class.
Adversity was coming at her from every direction. At least she got to see a naked guy. It may have been the first one she'd ever seen. Tristan couldn't really say.
He wasn't sure it made her more relatable as a person, or if he should be concerned that she was muddling through her first year of college. He knew it was hard for her to be away from her mom for the first time. Still, he hoped she'd adapt sooner or later.
He didn't mean to brag, but his first year at college was going really well—other than changing his major before spring semester, and he wasn't sure this one was going to stick either. It was no big deal though. The rowing team was having a good season so far, and the other guys were cool. Most of the people in the dorm kept their doors open, encouraging socialization, which was a welcome change from military school.
Maybe it was because he was used to being away from home, but Tristan was having an easier time adapting.
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Rory walked into her dorm room and started to unpack her book bag onto her desk. Paris was at her desk typing a paper for her anatomy class, so focused that she didn't look up when Rory came in. It wasn't until Rory had sat down and opened one of her books to get started on her reading that Paris spoke up.
"I guess you heard about Tristan's grandfather."
Rory looked over at her roommate. "What about him?"
"He died. Didn't Tristan tell you?"
"No." Rory opened her laptop and clicked on her email, disappointed that she was hearing about this from Paris. The last message from Tristan was earlier that week. She had already read it, but she clicked on it to scan one more time. "He didn't mention it Monday."
"It just happened yesterday," Paris said. "My nanny heard about it from his nanny."
"That's terrible, he's really close to his grandpa." Paris didn't say much more about it. She didn't know any of the funeral arrangements. Rory sat dumbly for a while. She felt like she should do something, but had no idea what. She went back to her reading, anxiously listening for an email notification that never dinged. Of course she didn't expect Tristan to be sitting around typing her a message. He was probably at home, in Hartford. Her eyes made it to the bottom of the page, but she hadn't processed anything she'd read.
When her afternoon class let out, she went to her car and headed to the Dugray house. She knew he didn't keep in touch with anyone else around here. She was his closest friend from high school. However, once she pulled into the driveway and looked up at the house, she wasn't sure what she was doing here. Was he even here? Like her, Tristan received a new car for graduation last spring. But there weren't any cars parked in the driveway.
She was already here, she couldn't back out now. Besides, he came all the way from North Carolina as soon as he heard she wouldn't get to go to prom. A friend in need was a friend indeed.
She took a deep breath and walked to the front door. When Mr. Dugray answered, looking stoic, she asked if Tristan was there. With a silent nod and a wave of his hand, he led Rory to the den, where Tristan was slouched on the couch, watching cartoons. He had on a flannel shirt and a blanket covered his legs.
Rory thanked Mr. Dugray and took a seat next to Tristan on the couch. He didn't move, but his eyes followed her. "Hey, how are you?" she asked.
"Fine," he said, monotone. "My grandpa died. He was sick."
"I heard," she said. "Paris's nanny heard it from your nanny."
He nodded his head once.
"I'm so sorry. I know you were close to him. I wanted to see how you're doing." She settled back into the couch. "What are we watching?"
"Rescue Rangers."
"I used to watch this sometimes with Lane when her mom went to bible study. I don't think I can remember any of the characters' names though," she said. But then, "Well, I remember Gadget. She was the smart one. And there was the rat. . . Monty." She thought some more. "Weren't there a couple of little guys too? Squirrels or chipmunks?"
Tristan turned to her with a deep frown.
Rory saw the chipmunk in a brown leather jacket and fedora. The other wore a red shirt. "Oh, Chip and Dale! Now I remember."
Dryly, Tristan said, "It's Chip 'n Dale Rescue Rangers."
"That's right." She grinned. "Now it's coming back to me."
"Don't forget the fly, Zip." He shifted closer so he could offer half of the blanket to her. She accepted, the blanket was warm from his legs. They were close enough under the blanket that she could feel his body heat.
Neither of them said anything for a few minutes as they watched the team of rodents solve a crime masterminded by Fat Cat.
They watched three more episodes before Duck Tales came on. "I used to watch this stuff every day after school, when I was young," Tristan said. Without lifting his head off the couch, he turned it to face Rory. "Surely you had too many books to read to watch TV."
She turned in, their faces close. "I still watched TV. Mom and I have movie nights all the time. Trust me, I like to sit in front of the TV just like everyone else."
"Hmmh," he said, facing the television again. "I'm sure you have a lot to do. Do you need to get back to school?"
"I can stay longer, if you want company," she offered. "And if you need anything, I can help. When Gran died I wrote the obituary. Grandpa didn't think the paper did her justice, so I researched and rewrote it. Really, whatever you need."
"Okay. Thanks." He asked, "Do you want to cuddle?"
She gave him an amused look and laughed softly.
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The next day, Rory was in the newsroom during a lull when there weren't many staff writers around. Her eyes darted left and right to make sure the coast was clear, then she accessed the database. Tristan called her earlier, asking for her help. His dad asked him to speak at the funeral, and he needed help figuring out what to say. She surreptitiously printed everything she found and shoved it in her bag.
Back at the Dugray house, they dug into all the information. "He was in the Navy during World War II," she read.
"Yeah, that's when he met Grandma," he said. "She was working with the USO." He took a deep breath and exhaled heavily. "I don't know where to start. All this is great, but I don't want to sound like I'm reading his biography."
Rory rested the side of her face in her hand, her elbow on the dining room table, where they'd laid out all the research. "Well, you should talk about him as you knew him. Do you have personal anecdotes? Like from your childhood?" She pulled over a pen and a notebook opened to a blank page, ready to jot down whatever ideas that came to his mind.
"I think I should go over to his house. It'll help if I'm surrounded by his stuff." He asked, "Will you come along?"
"Of course."
Ten minutes later he led her through the backdoor of his grandparents' house. He introduced her to his grandmother, who was sitting in the living room listening to soft music as she looked through old photos. Like when Gran died, there were floral arrangements everywhere. But unlike the Gilmore house, Mrs. Dugray had thoughtfully placed them throughout the house.
Rory followed Tristan into Janlen's study and sat across from him at the large mahogany desk. The room was similar to Richard's. The walls were lined with full book shelves, it smelled of cigars, and there was a large world map on the wall behind the desk. On the desk there was an old wedding photo of Tristan's grandparents, and another of the whole Dugray family. Rory studied all of his aunts, uncles, and cousins. They looked so preppy.
Tristan opened the top drawer of the desk and rifled through the contents. He closed the drawer and went through the others. He started talking about holidays here, and Rory picked up her pen. He talked about how he and his cousins played baseball out in the backyard, with Janlen as the pitcher. In the summers, he would take his grandsons on his sailboat, teaching them the finer points of sailing.
After a couple hours, Rory showed him a long list of stories he'd come up with. She flipped to a new page in her notebook. "Okay, so pick out your favorite stories to talk about, and we'll arrange them so they flow."
Tristan said, "How about I mention a bit of the biographical stuff first, like how everyone else knew him, and then my own stories—who he was to me."
Rory nodded. "That's good, I like that." They bent their heads to write up an outline, Tristan rehearsing lines as they went.
"Okay," he said with a sigh. "I think this is ready." He looked at her from the other side of the desk. "Thank you for your help."
She smiled softly. "You're welcome."
He hesitated, then asked, "What if I choke up? You know, when I'm talking in front of all those people."
"Just take a second to collect yourself and try to keep going," Rory said gently. "It's okay to show feelings. It's a funeral."
Tristan shook his head. "Emotions are embarrassing."
She reached for his hand to give it a squeeze. "Don't repress your emotions, it's unhealthy."
"I guess," he said doubtfully. "You should probably get back to school, I've taken up enough of your time. Come on, I'll drive you back to your car. I'll just tell Grandma we're leaving."
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Rory turned the page of her book and brushed her hair behind her ear. It was the end of the weekend, and in a rare instance of quiet in her suite, she was reading for pleasure. She hardly got to do that anymore, what with all her assigned reading for classes. Janet was at her boyfriend's apartment and Paris was with Asher. Only Tanna remained, and she was with Chester.
Rory was surprised by a knock at the door. She found Tristan on the other side, in khakis and another flannel shirt. He pointed behind him with his thumb. "Tanna let me in. She and Chester just left."
"And then there was one." Everyone had someone to be with, it seemed. Everyone but her. "How was the funeral?" she asked. Then, "Well, other than sad. Of course it was sad. Stupid question."
He nodded his understanding. "I made it. There were a ton of people there, the visitation took hours. Your grandparents came through." He lifted his other hand, which held a small bunch of white lilies.
She frowned. "What's this?"
"Flowers. We had so many—loose flowers, potted flowers, wind chimes. Mom said we should give the loose flowers away," he explained. "And I'm on my way back to school, so I thought I'd bring you some. To thank you, for all your help."
She held the flowers and bent her head to smell one. "It was nothing." She glanced around, not knowing what to do with them.
"You don't have anything to put those in, do you?" She sat them on her desk. She'd have to get a vase from Lorelai.
"No, really. I'd have been a rambling mess if you hadn't helped," he said. He stepped closer to wrap her in a hug. She snaked her arms around his broad shoulders to reciprocate. His hand moved up her back and stopped halfway. His thumb rubbed up and down and she could feel him realize she wasn't wearing a bra. His breath hitched. "Are you in . . . pajamas?"
"Mm-hmm. Is it too early?" she asked, pulling back, but not enough to escape his embrace. She had on a long sleeved Yale t-shirt and short shorts.
"It's six," he said, bemused. He gently pushed her hair behind her ear. "Your hair grew back out. Thank goodness."
She put her hand over his and looked up at him. "You don't like it short?"
"Mmm," he said, nose scrunched. "It looks prettier when it's long. Like it was at prom."
Prom. They kissed after prom, Rory thought. That was the last time anyone kissed her. And it wasn't a polite peck. She remembered he tasted minty, like he had been planning to kiss her and prepared beforehand.
Now, she licked her lips and looked at his. She lifted onto her toes to kiss him. He opened his mouth enough to let his tongue slide in. His hands slid down to her lower back so he could press her firmly to him. She inhaled at his touch when his hands felt the bare skin of her waist. She broke contact to breathe and look him in the eye. He moved closer to kiss her again.
She took a step so he'd move toward the bed, and he muttered her name as he kissed a line down her collar bone. He sat down on her bed, pulling her onto his lap, her legs open to straddle him. He cupped her breasts over the thin layer of her t-shirt. Her head dropped back, giving him access to her neck as his thumbs gently ran over the hardened tips of her breasts. She pressed her lips firmly to his again, only pausing to find the buttons of his shirt to undo them, kissing a hot trail down his chest.
"Rory?" His hands slid up her smooth exposed legs, stopping at the elastic band at her waist. "Should I . . ."
"Stay," she said breathily. Her hands met his and she stood to let her shorts fall to the floor. "Stay here with me."
He moved swiftly, taking off his own pants and pulling her shirt over her head. They fell into her bed together, and she spread her legs to allow him in between. He kissed her neck and returned to her lips. It hurt for a second, and then he was sliding in and out of her. She moved in rhythm with him until waves of pleasure washed over them.
She clung to him, as though afraid he'd leave if she let him go. She gave him reason to stay all night, kissing and stroking him, sliding him inside of her. She was his best friend, and she wanted to make him feel better.
He stayed all night, getting a few hours of sleep here and there. It was early morning when he quietly got up to collect his clothes. Rory sleepily watched him. "Leaving?" she asked softly.
He turned to her as he buttoned his shirt. "Mm-hmm. I have a class this morning." He sat back down on the bed to put on his shoes, then he leaned over to kiss her goodbye. He got up to leave, but turned at the door. "I love you."
"I love you too," she said. He left and she snuggled back into her sheets. She had a few hours before she had to be at her first class.
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Rory clicked away from the paper she was writing over to her email. Nothing new. It had been three days and she still hadn't heard from Tristan. She wasn't sure what she wanted him to say. She didn't even know what she should say. What was she expecting, really? They weren't exactly in a relationship now, just because they'd slept together. She knew there were plenty of Princeton girls within arm's reach. He'd made his opinion on long-distance relationships quite clear. They weren't for him.
Then what was she waiting for? Maybe they couldn't be friends any more. She would hate that. He was someone she could tell her troubles to. She and Lorelai couldn't always connect, and Paris wasn't her go-to when she needed a confidant.
She knew better than to expect Tristan to write her poetic prose, professing his undying love, and promising to transfer to Yale. That wasn't going to happen. She certainly wasn't going anyway. But she didn't want him to brush it off and say it didn't mean anything, either. He couldn't do that. He said he loved her. And she said it back.
But there were different kinds of love. Like love for a friend. After all, Rory loved Lane dearly. Being in love was different. So what did Tristan mean? What did Rory want him to mean? Did she want him to make an exception for her? Did she want him to be her boyfriend? She'd never considered it before.
She did miss having a boyfriend. She hadn't been single in a few years. She was alone in the dorm that night because all her suitemates had paired off. So, what then? He was sad and she was lonely, so they hooked up? That sounded pathetic. It was her first time, and it was with someone she cared about. It was special.
A tiny voice in her head said she didn't have to wait around. She could be the first to make contact. Sitting around waiting had not worked out so well with Jess.
Rory sat at her desk and lightly drummed her fingers next to her laptop. Instead of going to her email, she searched for sandwich shops in Princeton, New Jersey. She ordered soup to be delivered to the dorm and added a message, You should eat something, even if you aren't hungry. Rory.
The gesture seemed to work, because there was an email waiting for her when she got back from her last class of the day. Thank you for the soup. You take good care of me.
She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding. At least she broke the ice.
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Tristan was lying in bed staring at the ceiling. Things had shifted with Rory. He definitely didn't know how to proceed. He didn't know what to say. It didn't seem right to go on like nothing happened. He didn't have friends who were girls. This never happened to him.
There was a girl in his macro economics class that he'd been flirting with this semester. She'd smile at him and laugh at his jokes. He was thinking about asking her out. But after class this afternoon she asked if he wanted to go get some coffee and he told her he had to study. He passed on a girl to study by himself. What he really did was stare at a blank email addressed to Rory for an hour, until he had to go to his next class. He couldn't find the right words. It had been a week and he still couldn't think of acceptable words. Thanks for the sex, buddy. He probably shouldn't say that. But he had to say something.
He told her he loved her. What was that? He didn't even say that to the girls he dated. He meant it though. He did love her. It just came out.
He wasn't one to suggest an interstate romance though. He saw how well that went for Jamie, the poor guy. And that was Paris. Guys literally fought over Rory Gilmore. Tristan would know, he was one of them. He hadn't even been a contender.
He knew all this, and yet he had that restless feeling, like he needed to do something. He kept trying to ignore it, but he was having trouble sleeping. He didn't even flip over to his stomach tonight. He'd just end up tossing and turning anyway.
New Haven was one hundred and thirty miles away. It was over a two hour drive. On top of the distance, they had lives. He had crew, she had the paper. They both had classes to go to and study for. They wouldn't see each other much. In the meantime, she could meet someone else at Yale. Someone better. Tristan would end up fighting someone. He absolutely would. Probably in public.
But what if this was an opportunity? She was single and she didn't kick him out of bed. Quite the opposite. So she was attracted to him and she didn't hate him. She was notorious for not knowing when she liked someone more than a friend. This could be his moment. Maybe he wouldn't get another chance.
He wouldn't even be around Hartford all summer though. There was a very small window. She was retaking that class she dropped and he would only be in town for a while before the family went to their summer home, and then he'd head to school again.
Was it worth it when it could mess up what they had? She was a good friend. He didn't want to lose her. It might be great. Or it could go badly. Then what? They wouldn't go back to being friends.
Tristan exhaled heavily and rubbed his face before turning over to try to get some sleep.
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Rory checked herself in the mirror in her bedroom in Stars Hollow. She was wearing a skirt with fishnet stockings and a cute top. She had a date tonight. It was with a guy her grandma introduced her to, Graham, before they headed home for the summer. Emily had seen him in diapers—as a toddler. He presumably didn't wear diapers now. Rory was not intimately privy to his boxer-brief-diaper situation.
Emily thought she should be dating a Yale man by now. Normally Rory would cringe at being set up by her grandmother, but she thought, what the hell? She didn't have anything else going on. He didn't seem like a serial killer, and he was nice so far. He went to Yale, so they had something in common.
It was just casual. Nothing serious. Rory's freshman year had been a long hiatus from boys, which was good. She definitely needed a break from the drama, and the agonizing decision between two guys. When she looked back now, the conflict between Dean and Jess didn't matter. A whole year went by and no one even considered dating her. There was that one date with Trevor, sure, but it was one date. Neither of them were interested in a repeat.
And then there was Tristan, of course. It wasn't hard to figure out where they stood. He hadn't been in touch as much the last few weeks of school. When he did touch base, it was a general update, nothing too personal. He was clearly at as much of a loss as she was.
Maybe they couldn't be friends anymore. Billy Crystal was probably right, in When Harry Met Sally. They crossed the line and things couldn't go back to the way they were.
So Emily introduced Rory to Graham, and Rory thought, why not? She couldn't find guys on her own. And she was ready to get back out there.
It was ten minutes too early when she heard a knock at the front door. She gasped when she opened the front door. "Tristan."
"Hey, I'm in town for two weeks. Are you doing anything?" He glanced down at her, registering her outfit. "You're dressed up. You have plans," he said, knowingly.
Rory smoothed her skirt. "Oh, yeah. I kind of have a date," she said, her heart sinking.
"I'm sorry, I should have called—"
"Grandma set me up—"
"—I was at home and just hopped in the car—"
"—She knew him in diapers. It's just a second date," she said, trying to stress it was only some guy she didn't know and not a big deal at all. "I wasn't sure if you—." She didn't know the end of that sentence. "Well, I've been busy—finals, Mom's inn—."
"Right, me too. And we're going to the Cape soon."
"Maybe another time?" she asked, willing him to see she meant it.
"Sure," he said quickly. "I should get out of your way." He was already descending the stairs. "I'll talk to you later."
Rory watched him go before stepping back inside. She closed the door and leaned back against it. She had the horrible feeling in her stomach that something just slipped away.
