"Tristan, hey," I had ushered Tristan over to the foyer of his home. We were both currently standing toe-to-toe as I thanked him for his kindness tonight.

It was shocking yet utterly refreshing to witness a more mature Tristan DuGrey. "Thank you, for everything ... The pick me up, the aspirin, the coffee-" I chuckled at the large flask of caffeine and hot water that Tristan had prepared - specially - for me. "Just, thank you for being there when I needed you."

"No problem," Tristan seemed sheepishly shy as I complimented him. Tinges of crimson crept into his cheeks like thick vines on a gravestone and I gave him a small smile in return. "Are you sure you don't want me to drive you home?"

I shook my head - no - in reply.

As nice as it was for Tristan to offer, I knew he wasn't too keen on the existence of Paris Gellar and vice versa. Despite having a crush on him back in high school, Paris had realised that her and Tristan just weren't destined for romance. After going on a date or two they had given the dating game a miss and had returned to their award winning banter; it was safe to say neither of them had missed one another.

"I'm not sure if you're ready to handle a twenty one year old, Paris Gellar just yet." I tried to joke. "It takes five years of training and a government official licence before you're allowed anywhere near her."

"I still can't believe you and Paris are even on Yale campus!" Tristan exclaimed, his perfectly sculpted eyebrows lifting up into the creases of his forehead. "You two were always competing for that Harvard position and now you share an apart-"

"Mine and Paris' relationship is complicated," My shoulders shifted and then dropped. Honestly speaking, Paris and I had an odd friendship and the less you knew about its workings, the better. Paris and I could go from sisters to enemies within a spur of a moment. We were like the weather; warm one moment and then scorching hot the next. "But, Paris has a good heart and ... I really should check on her, make sure she's okay."

"At least let me call you a taxi," Tristan frantically turned his head to grab his bearings. He walked over to a drawer and pulled out a rather large local phone book. "Let me see." He spoke absentmindedly to himself as he flicked through endless pages of telephones numbers in order to find a taxi service.

"Tristan!" I lifted my tone of voice so that he would glance upwards. "I would prefer to walk, honestly. I think the fresh air will do me good."

And, I was being honest. After the night I had had, all I wanted to do was wall through soundless, empty streets alone. I wanted to be swallowed whole into a world of nothing, at least for a few minutes.

"Rory, it's late and you're a girl alone. I'm not letting you walk home, come on, I can deal with Paris but I won't be able to deal with myself if anything happens to you." Tristan quickly excused himself from his parents and grabbed a coat. I refrained from walking back into the living room; ultimately avoiding Logan and his prying gaze. I was mad. Mad at him. Mad at the world. Mad at the situation we has been thrust into. "I told my parents I was taking you home ... My mom is officially extending your visit and asking you to dinner next week."

"I would love to meet your Mom properly, but, really Tristan ... I can get home on my own-"

"Come on, Gilmore." Despite wanting some time alone, I knew Tristan wouldn't let me out on my own, not at this hour. The Granddad clock in the hallway was a clear indication of how time had slipped away; the gold rimmed arms inching towards one am. Like usual, the Yale campus was bubbling with an unexpected character at this godly hour. Party-goers were all on their way home: girls stumbling out of bars in heels, guys blowing their guts out into bushes, greasy restaurants open to provide hangover cures. The atmosphere was so unlike Stars Hollow yet so similar to home. A light breeze trembled through the air, carrying the scent of my coffee up to my nostrils. After taking a large intake of fresh oxygen, a lowered my lips to the flask and sipped on the perfectly prepared coffee. "I remembered, black, three sugars - just how you like it."

"Wait ... what?" I stopped walking, my baby blues bulging from their sockets as I stared back at Tristan in disbelief. From my recollection, there had never been a time when Tristan and I had discussed my caffeine preferences. Ever. Tristan and I's relationship had only consisted of the torturous walks through the Chilton hallways and the equally as disastrous projects we were forced into on weekends; the odd party also. "How? How do you remember that?"

"I was trying to rally Dean up," Tristan's eyes glazed over as he thought back to the distinct moment that had imprinted itself in his mind. It was an odd memory, not of much significance but weirdly, Tristan could always recall it - clear as day. It was the day he had realised he had true feelings towards Rory; scary feelings, feelings he had never experienced before. It was also the day before he was ripped from Hartford society and thrust into a world of grueling army workouts and nit-picking generals. "We were rehearsing for that silly Romeo and Juliet adaptation and you didn't want Dean to find out about our kiss," I nodded, vaguely remembering the awkward encounter between Tristan and Dean. "Paris had us locked up in that place-"

"Miss Patty's."

"Yeah, Paris had us locked up in Miss Patty's for what felt like an eternity and you grew really jittery later on in the day. At first I thought it was because Dean and I were going to be in the same room but, you were still a little panicked when he left. I was intrigued by your paranoia and I just ... watched you, I guess." Tristan watched me warily, as if I were a piece of china that was seconds away from collapsing into a puddle of a million pieces. His grey-blue eyes scanned over my face, urging me to question him.

"Watched me?"

"Not in the creepy kind of way, not in the-" Tristan tried his hardest to distort his face into serial-killer-eqsue onne which only earned a light chuckle from me. It was safe to say Tristan was going to pick theatrical arts as his major next year. His face - thankfully - returned to normal as my laughter died down. "I'm watching you kind of ... more like, I noticed you ... I noticed the little things about you - the way you take your coffee, the average amounts of times you call your Mom everyday, the way your hair colour changes in the sun, your tendency to ramble on and on when you're nervous-"

My heart hammered from within my chest as Tristan continued to notice things about me that I didn't even seem to notice. It baffled me to even consider the fact that Tristan had been so attentive back in high school. It was unlike anybody she had ever met before. Rory had had three major relationships: Dean, Jess and Logan ... neither of whom had been so watchful. It was so unlike him, Tristan. Tristan DuGrey was notorious for his bad boy, pants hanging low reputation. He had been pulled out of school for stealing from one of his friends' homes and he had been the talk of society for months to follow, never had I pictured him to be the guy that he was unfolding as being. Deep down, he was a compassionate, wholesome, caring kind of guy that had spent his whole life trying to maintain a facade ... not a lifestyle. It was funny, I had learnt more about Tristan tonight than I ever had before.

For the first time, I was noticing the highlights of caramel highlights on the crown of his head; the depth of stormy grey in his ocean eyes, a gentle tinge of red on his lips, creases etched into his forehead (probably from all the frowning) For the first time, I was noticing Tristan in a new light ... a different light ... a light that I could probably grow used to. "Rory ... Rory ... Rory!"

"Huh, what?" I shook my head, snapping out of my train of thought suddenly. Tristan's voice was like a bucket of cold water to my mind and I blinked rapidly, trying to gain awareness of my surroundings once again.

"I asked you a question," There was a pause as I signaled for Tristan to ask me the question again. "Left or right?" That's when I realised we were standing at a crossroad: left leading towards Logan's apartment and right towards Paris'.

I laughed cynically at myself, what were the odds?

"Right," I nodded after moments of silence. "Turn right." With a hand nestled comfortably underneath my arm, Tristan leisurely walked me back to the dormitory buildings. We lapsed into a comfortable silence, neither of us wanting to interrupt the serenity that had been blanketed upon us. As we approached my building of residence, I slowed down my pace, strangely not wanting to let Tristan leave just yet. A voice inside my head nagged me to invite him in ... another voice contradicted and warned me of the misleading signs it was putting across. I had just, after all, ended my relationship with Logan ... jumping into something else, so suddenly ... it just wasn't me and I didn't want to give Tristan that illusion.

Rory Gilmore still had morals. "Erh ..." I stuttered lamely, battling with my inner self. "Thanks ... Do you ... maybe ... want to-" Before I could finish, a voice hollered loud and clear. I instantly recognized an outspoken Australian accent.

"Love!" Finn's voice bounced off walls and echoed eerily, the house music acting as a back drop to the musicality in his voice. Finn's lengthy black hair was pulled back into a signature ponytail, a scotch glass cozily resting in his palm. His whole demeanor was disheveled and I couldn't help but snicker at his persona. Finnegan was a rare specimen. "Where have you and Huntz been? The wedding ended hours ago!"

"Ah!" I gasped mockingly, my hands flying to cover my mouth. "Look, Tristan ... It's Spencer Tracy!" Finn just laughed his large arm swinging across my shoulders. "Finn, I think we need to get you home-"

"I am home, Gilmore, home is where you are ..." Finn tried to kiss my cheek but I edged away from him and closer into the arms of Tristan who just stared at my interaction with Finn with an amused grin on his face. All Tristan needed was a bowl of popcorn and he wouldn't need to pay for cable tonight. "But, I don't think your boyfriend would like me bunking with you tonight so, I guess home would be good ... Colin!" Finn yelled for Colin - rather close to my ear - and I winced; my ear drums ringing.

"Boyfriend?" Tristan gripped my biceps, his eyes staring me down. "You're seeing somebody?"

"No!" I quickly added in before I could stop myself.

"No?" Finn looked at me utterly confused. Even though Finn was dangerously drunk, he was still sober enough to be interested by my outburst. After all, Logan didn't have the time to inform his friends of what had occurred between us earlier on in the day, not with Honour's wedding and dinner with Tristan's family. "Does Logan know about this? Because I swear you two were-" Finn whistled as he rocked back on fourth of his heels - he was indicating to mine and Logan's sex life and I blushed, looking down at my feet.

"Logan?" Tristan's hands dropped from where they were planted on my arms, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of its element. I could all most see the gears turning in his head and the steam filtering out his ears; Tristan was trying to come up with a reasonable explanation for our circumstance but seemingly enough, he couldn't think of one. My predicament was just as complicated as it seemed. There was no loop hole.

"Logan." I sighed, looking directly at Tristan. Tristan just stared back coldly at me.

I had a lot of explaining to do.