My Brother

Disclaimer: See first chapter.

Setting: See first chapter.

A/N: In this chapter I'm planning on using four different characters' POVs (point of views). It will be different from the other chapters because Tristan won't be the sole focus of everyone's attentions. Again, please review, even if you hated it! Reviews make me so happy. They make me feel as though someone cares about the time I spend writing these stories.

Rory

I got to my house and dropped my backpack on the floor as soon as I entered, pulled off my stupid Chilton shoes and ran upstairs to change out of the horrible school outfit. I was lying in bed wearing my mom's old gym pants and my crimson Harvard T-shirt, the one I had picked up at one of the events. I'd picked the clothes out at random, so it was a total coincidence that I was wearing that shirt. My head pressed firmly into the bed, my thoughts were directed toward the day's events.

I was paired with Tristan DuGrey for a project on the ancient Mayans. I could see it now: we would be sitting at my house, on my couch, and I would be jotting down facts furiously in a note-book while reading a book about the Mayans. Next to me, Tristan would have an open book and note-book in his lap but would be gazing at me intently. Then he wouldn't stop making stupid comments, and then he would try to get me to kiss him again or something.

I would get an F on that project, I knew it. And even worse than getting an F would be that Paris would get an A+ for sure and then rub it in my face. And then I'd never go to Harvard and I'd never be a journalist and everyone in the world would hate me, most of all my grandparents who expected me to be something big so much, and my mom would make me into a maid at the inn and I would be miserable…

No. I was determined to ace that project, and I would, Tristan or no Tristan. I would get an A.

That taken care of, my thoughts turned to Tristan again. Why did he do all that stuff anyway? To annoy me, was the immediate rebuke. But…why would he go to such pains to annoy me? Could he really think that bothering me, trying to seduce me, and making my life hell was a way to make me like him? Well, I didn't like him. Period. He was an arrogant jerk, and he only paid so much attention to me because he'd made a bet he could make Mary go out with him, or something.

And the kiss? Was I going to dismiss that as a simple bet as well? But, unless I was totally and completely deluding myself, he'd had something there in his eyes when I pulled away, and it wasn't triumph, like I would expect if he'd just won a bet. And when he was kissing me, he did it almost gently, as though he were restraining himself because he knew that I wouldn't like it if he didn't. And, finally, if it was a bet, then why would he have let go of my wrists, permitted me to pull away and run if I wanted to?

Could it be because he liked me?

My thoughts were in turmoil when my mom came home and laughed her head off at my outfit. "Even more ridiculous than that Donna Reed thing!" she'd exclaimed, cackling madly.

(…)

Paris

How could he have done that? Didn't he know how much I liked him? I'd known him much longer than she knew him, and yet he'd never kissed me, never spared me a glance unless he had to. All the other girlfriends he'd had could be dismissed as there to help him pass the time, or bring him out of his loneliness. The kisses he shared with them were nothing serious, and so I didn't have to worry about that. But the way he'd kissed her was so different, so loving, so gentle, so caring, so full of emotion…

He'd wanted to kiss her since the first day she stepped into his classroom, since the first time he'd called her Mary. I'd wanted to kiss him forever. He was the only boy I would ever like. And yet he didn't like me, he hardly knew my name, he thought I was scum, or just another one of those nerdy girls who did well in class and had no life, no boyfriends.

I cared about him. I cared that he didn't like his parents, that he had trouble at home. And I cared and understood, perhaps more than anyone, what he felt inside. Because, a lot of the time, I felt it too. She didn't care. In fact, she hated him, she thought he was annoying, and she had a boyfriend. Yet he loved her and he'd kissed her, not me. 'His Mary' couldn't see past his cocky manner, his arrogant attitude, and his smirks. All she could see was a handsome boy with countless girlfriends out to annoy her. She didn't see what I saw: the loneliness inside him, the fight between being good or being bad, how much he wanted to please his parents and how much he wanted to annoy them.

And most of all she couldn't see how much he loved her.

I wished I couldn't see that sometimes, because it caused me so much pain.

Sometimes I wished that I could break through that mask, the hard outer layer that people thought was me, and show everyone who I really was.

A lot of the time I wished Tristan could do that.

Even if he married Rory Gilmore, had ten kids with her, loved her to the point of bursting and never spared me a thought, I, Paris Gellar, would always, always, always care about Tristan.

(…)

Louise

This was so not fair. I had been paired with Emma, and Madeline got Richard, perhaps the hottest guy in class after Tristan. God, how much I wanted to study with Tristan. We would sit in his house on his couch, and I would flirt and flirt and flirt. Then Tristan would kiss me and I would be happy for the rest of my life. But no, that Gilmore girl got him, and I could hardly see him kissing her.

The teacher had probably paired me with Emma because she was a girl and he knew that I would flirt to death with a partner who was a boy. I was in a mood to flirt after being paired with that female-dog, so I went out into the hallway to find Tristan and give it a try.

I walked out into the hallway and what do I see? That female-dog Gilmore pushing Tristan into his locker and kissing him like her heart was gonna burst. Wow. This sure was some juicy gossip material.

I found Madeline and told her all about it, how Gilmore had Tristan pressed up against his locker and was making-out with him like there was no tomorrow. Of course, Madeline didn't get the point, so I had to explain to her that now she was supposed to go around the school telling everybody she saw.

We told Emma, Amelia, Hannah, Connor, Richard, Ashley, Chad, and countless others. Tomorrow the news would be all over the school; Gilmore was no longer a Mary.

(…)

Tristan

When I got home I really wanted to make some coffee and drop onto the bed, then lose myself in dreams and memories of kissing Rory, but was confronted at the front door by Robert. "Hey, I was just about to go out. Do you want to come with me? I think we should go Grocery Shopping; there are no fruits left," he explained.

So I followed Robert out of the house and we got into his car. I sat down next to him and stared out the window as Hartford shot by, thinking about Rory and the kiss. Robert seemed to know something was up. "What are you thinking, Tristan?" he asked me gently. I turned to him and felt that I should tell him.

"Well I kissed this girl at school today, and she's the one I really like," I explained, my thoughts and feelings probably evident in my eyes. Robert grinned.

"Ah. So you kissed Lorelai's daughter, did you?" I was very surprised that he knew who I liked.

"Um, yeah. How did you know that I liked her?" I asked him suspiciously.

"Tristan, it's completely evident in the way you looked at her and talked to her and acted around her that day she gave you your homework," Robert explained softly. We proceeded to talk about Rory, school, Lorelai, and everything until we pulled up in front of the Supermarket. As we got out of the car and closed the doors, I felt as though I was closer to Robert, and it felt good.