The Best Of You – Chapter Eight
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Rory fiddled with the hem of her soaked skirt nervously. They had been driving for over fifteen minutes, and in that time, neither had uttered a word. Rory knew why she wasn't speaking and blushed furiously. She was ashamed to speak or even glance at him because of her actions several minutes prior. She closed her eyes and rested her head against the leather seat, her thoughts buzzing.
She had let Tristan Dugrey witness her most severe emotional breakdown. He had seen the countless tears she had shed and he had seen her at her most vulnerable state. Rory shivered, not because she was cold... but because she had never felt so humiliated. Her mind was constantly replaying the scene to her in slow motion. And after each time, she sank lower and lower into her seat, her face reddening severely.
Using his peripheral vision, he watched her inconspicuously. His mouth was unusually dry and he couldn't find any words that were appropriate to say at that present moment. He didn't even know where he was going... just that if he stopped driving; he knew that they would be forced to interact in some way. He feared this because he had no idea what was going on in that mind of hers, and he feared that he would say the wrong thing.
His jaw unknowingly clenched as his memories brought him back to what happened at Chilton. He had hurt her... he had made her cry. That was never his intention. Yes, he did want her to feel some sort of pain that equalled to the pain she had caused him the day before... but he didn't want to see her cry. It nearly killed him.
She shut her eyes, ineffectively trying to block out images from her mind. She had so many questions that he needed to answer... she just didn't know how to properly ask them.
Rory cleared her throat, "Where are we going?" her voice was soft and worn out.
He turned his head, surprise evident in his blue eyes. "I don't know," he answered truthfully.
Rory nodded, not really knowing what else to do.
The car filled with apprehensive silence once more.
"Do you want me to drop you off at your grandparents?" he suddenly asked.
Rory paused, biting her lip as she contemplated his question. She looked down at her wristwatch. 12:05. She inwardly groaned, knowing for a fact that her grandmother would be home. No matter what errand Emily Gilmore needed to do, she would always come home around lunchtime to check up on how her newly acquired maid was doing. Her grandmother loved to keep them on their toes.
I don't want to deal with grandma's questions after she sees me looking like this...
And slowly, almost timidly, she shook her head.
"Okay, how about I drop you off at Stars Hollow then?"
"You don't have to-"
Tristan ignored her plea and made a sharp u-turn.
Rory's mouth immediately set into a tight line, unable to find words.
"You turn right at-"
"I know," he hastily interrupted; he glanced at her briefly before setting his eyes on the road again.
"How did you-?"
"I just do," he insisted, his eyes set on the road ahead.
Twenty anxious minutes later, the car came to a screeching halt. Rory looked up, startled. For the past twenty minutes, Rory had allowed herself to be drowned in her alarming thoughts. She had not noticed his car pulling up into her driveway. She reached in the backseat to retrieve her backpack; she hugged the damp bag close to her as she fought with her brain as to what was the right and wrong thing to do in her current situation.
Her shaking hand reached for the handle as her heart continued to beat tremendously. "Tristan…" she started, gathering enough courage, "Come inside," she offered tentatively.
"I really don't think it'd be best," he quickly responded.
"It's the least I could do since you dropped me home and everything," she continued softly, "I can dry your clothes and um… you can have a cup of coffee or something and then you can go. Please… just let me make me up to you for everything you've done today," she finished.
Tristan reluctantly nodded and stepped from the car. He silently followed the brunette as she made her way up the porch steps. With his hands shoved deep within his pant pockets, he waited with his head down as she searched for her house keys. Finally, the keys were found and he watched with tattered breath as she pushed open the front door of the Gilmore residence.
He followed her inside and stopped at the living room. He looked around, curious to see how she lived outside of Chilton. The only room he had seen was her bedroom and he had been kicked out of that relatively quickly. Tristan could only think of one word as his eyes scanned Rory's home: cosy.
Twisting around, he noticed Rory gone. Following the sound of hurried footsteps, he met her in the kitchen.
"I'm making coffee," she told him, not bothering to turn around from the coffee pot.
Tristan remained silent; instead, he took a seat in one of the chairs.
Rory finally turned around, two mugs of steaming cups of coffee in her hands. She set one cup down before taking a sip of her own.
"I'll be right back," she muttered, putting her cup down.
Tristan remained seated and took a gulp of the coffee. He winched at the bitterness and the burning sensation that passed through his throat. His hands encircled the hot mug, he relished the warmth and he leaned back against the wooden chair, pondering the day's unfortunate events.
He had punched one of his closest friends, someone who Tristan had known since he was seven years old. And he had punched him because of what he had said about Rory Gilmore. Following that, he had to endure the loud speech from the headmaster, who then called his father. Tristan shuddered, remembering the way his father had said, "I'll deal with you when I come back." He knew that whatever his father had in store for him, Tristan would be in a lot of pain in the end. To top that off, Tristan had been suspended for two days. Tristan shrugged, two days wasn't bad… he had been suspended for over a week two months earlier.
The scene in front of his locker now invaded his thoughts. He shivered at the memory… his plan had backfired. Upon seeing Rory, he was supposed to be cold, distant and venomous. She had started to cry and his act had deteriorated. He had shown her a side of him that not even his own parents had seen. And this worried him because he knew that today; his feelings for her had only intensified.
Rory emerged from her bedroom minutes later. No longer was she in her wet Chilton uniform, instead, she wore a pair of worn down Abercrombie and Fitch sweatpants and a loose red t-shirt. She had pulled her hair up into a ponytail.
"Here," she said, handing him a pair of green gym shorts and an old Ramones t-shirt. "They belong to Jess… but I'm sure they fit. The washroom's just over there," she pointed out a closed door.
Rory watched him walk away and let out an inaudible sigh. She took frequent sips of her coffee and soon found herself in need of another cup. Just as she was pouring the coffee into her mug, Tristan sauntered into the kitchen, looking uncomfortable.
Rory turned and fought to keep a smile from adorning her lips. She noticed that the shirt was too tight and there was a large hole, showing a bit of his abdomen. "Do you have your uniform? I'm going to go and put them in the dryer," she replied, biting back her smile.
He nodded and handed her the damp clothes. Rory accepted them and hurried to the laundry room.
"I'm sorry about the shirt," she replied, minutes later.
Tristan looked up from his mug and shrugged. "It's alright. How come you have guy's clothes anyway?"
"Oh, my friend Jess… well sometimes he gets into fights with his uncle and he crashes here. He leaves a few of his clothes so he doesn't have to wear what I let him borrow," she answered.
"Ah," was his reply.
Rory took a seat across from him and offered him another cup of coffee. Tristan declined but Rory poured him another cup anyway, along with a refill for herself.
"How many cups have you had?"
"This is my third," she replied, swallowing a mouthful, "You?"
"I was halfway done before you decided to refill my cup," Tristan said, "I'm not really a coffee drinker."
"Blasphemy!" she exclaimed before she could stop herself. She could feel his perplexed gaze upon her and she blushed. "Sorry… it's just that… well how can you not like coffee?"
Tristan shrugged, thoroughly amused by her addiction. "I just don't."
Rory accepted that answer grudgingly. She skimmed the rim of her cup with her finger as another wave of tense silence greeted the two teenagers.
"So…" Tristan coughed, causing her to jump in surprise. "I suppose you want to talk about what happened today," he decided to get down to business.
Rory nodded shyly, "Well, if you want to… I mean, I do, but if you don't want to then we don't have to…" she knew she was rambling.
"No, let's talk," he replied.
"What exactly happened today?" she murmured her question.
"Santos said a few things, I got angry and punched him. Then I got suspended for two days," he explained to her with little details.
"But why?"
"Why…"
"Why did you punch Luis? I mean what did he say?" Rory inquired.
"Nothing really important," he hesitated.
"I'm sure what he said had to be somewhat important. You guys are so close," she pointed out.
"He just started nagging me about the rumours about you and me, happy?"
"Oh," Rory chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully, "How did Luis take it? Is he mad that you punched him?"
Tristan chuckled wryly, "The friendship's pretty much over."
Her eyes widened, "I'm so sorry."
"Don't be, I'm used to losing people I care about," he answered, his eyes meeting hers for a second.
"Do… do you want anything to eat? I mean, we don't have much food here since my mom can't cook but I think we have pop tarts and some marshmallows," Rory offered lamely, trying to change the subject. Rory had seen the look in his eyes after he had answered her and she didn't want to inquire about the subject any further.
"No thanks, the coffee's enough."
Rory nodded, "Okay."
"Do you want to talk about what happened at my locker?" he asked uncertainly.
Rory shook her head unwaveringly, her cheeks reddening despite her attempts to keep that very thing from happening. "No, not really."
"Come on, I told you about Santos."
"Fine… what do you want to know?"
"I don't know."
"What you mean, you don't know?"
"I mean just that… I don't know where to start," he replied.
"Why not?" Rory questioned, her mug close to her lips.
"I just have so many questions you know. I don't know which one to ask first."
She understood wholeheartedly. "I know what you mean."
"Okay, let's start of with… why were in front of my locker anyway?"
"I honestly didn't even know that I was leaning against your locker," she answered, "… but I was looking for you."
"And why were you looking for me?"
Rory shrugged, "That whole scene in front of your locker… I don't know what came over me. First, I was outside with Paris and Madeline. And Madeline told me, well told Paris that you had been suspended for defending me. So many questions rushed to my mind… and I felt that I had to find you so that I could know the truth."
Tristan nodded, urging her to continue. He could see how difficult it was for her to tell him this; her knuckles were turning white because she was holding onto the mug too tightly.
Rory sighed, "And the way you were talking to me, plus the students practically surrounding us… well, it was just too much."
"And why'd you apologize?"
"Because I was wrong," she replied, "And I owed you."
"How?"
"You defended me when you shouldn't have," she answered, as if her answer was painfully obvious.
"The bastard was saying some nasty things about you," Tristan said.
"Still… you guys were friends. I mean, wouldn't it have been easier if you just played along?"
"I was an ass to you the other day, you shouldn't have apologized. I deserved it."
"And I deserved how you treated me at your locker. So we're even."
For what seemed like the millionth time that day, Tristan chose to remain silent. Running a hand through his hair, he cleared his throat and took another drink from the mug. Rory followed his lead and gulped down her coffee. The silence was less tense, as the two had finally talked and answered each other's questions. Though they had their questions answered… both didn't what to make with the answers.
So Tristan and Rory sat, across from each other, with both hands hugging their coffee mug… each drifting off into a world of their own. The beep from the dryer (signalling the end of its cycle) interrupted the deafening silence… but neither teen noticed.
-
The school bell rang and students rushed out of their classrooms, eager to get home. Paris Gellar strolled out of her Geometry classroom with a look of pure hatred etched on her face. She had not been able to calm herself down.
For the remainder of the school day, Paris Gellar had been labelled unapproachable. She hissed at the freshmen's, and insulted the seniors. Her two friends, Louise and Madeline knew better then to talk to her. Instead, they spent the rest of the day warning others.
Paris Gellar was in one of her moods. She was out for revenge. On who? Well… no one could answer that question.
"Paris…" Louise approached her gingerly, "Do you want a ride home? I took my mom's Jag to school today."
"No, I have my own ride," Paris answered offhandedly.
Louise shrugged and walked away, Madeline right behind.
She took her time walking to her locker, her thoughts filled with schemes and plots for her revenge. She had the perfect plan… the problem was how was she going to execute her wonderful idea.
Fifteen minutes had passed by and Paris was now walking through a deserted hallway leading to the front entrance of the school, where her ride was waiting. She squinted as she stepped outside, the sun had come out after the horrid thunderstorm. Paris caught sight of her father's car almost immediately and began to walk toward it.
"Paris!"
Paris turned around at her name and watched as a woman with dark, slightly curly hair jogged to where she stood. She grinned inwardly, knowing exactly who the woman was.
"Lorelai," Paris greeted.
"I'm sorry for bugging you but do you know where Rory is? I've been waiting for over twenty minutes."
Paris shook her head innocently, "I'm sorry, but I haven't seen Rory since lunch."
"Don't you two have afternoon classes together?"
Paris nodded, "Yes, but she wasn't in any of them."
"What!"
"But according to Louise Grant, she was seen leaving with Tristan Dugrey at lunchtime," Paris responded.
"That's… that's impossible. She hates him."
Paris shrugged, "I don't know what else to tell you."
Lorelai nodded, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "Thanks anyway," she said, before walking back to her jeep.
--
AN: Ah… I finally finished this chapter. What a bitch it was to write. I hope this story's not getting too dramatic for you guys. And to some of the reviews asking why Rory acted the way she did, you know… from thinking one thing to doing the complete opposite… well, I'm writing a not so perfect Rory Gilmore. A confused Rory Gilmore. One who doesn't know how to act in a situation that she's not familiar to, or has any control over. One whose emotions get the best of her when they really should not. One who… just doesn't know what the hell to do. Like… she's trapped and she doesn't know how to get out. LOL what can I say… I like a dysfunctional Rory. I hope that made sense… it's 4 in the morning and I'm slightly delusional.
But on a less confusing note, thank you guys for the wonderful reviews! You guys just make me so happy and giddy! Please continue to drop a few lines or two!