Disclaimer: I do not won Gilmore Girls or any character associated with the show.

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Chapter Nine: Poker Face

Rory's ten minute getting ready time frame stretched to twenty-five. Her step father had asked him about the car, hardly succeeding in hiding his contempt. Then he had made an excuse about getting dinner ready and had disappeared into the kitchen where he proceeded to bang pots and pans around quite emphatically.

Lorelai settled into the cushions of the sofa with Matthew against her. He was waking up slowly, lazily.

"He's a true Gilmore," Lorelai said, nodding in her son's direction. "Gilmores wake up at their own speed."

Tristan noted this tidbit of information, unable to suppress the flash of Rory, naked, in his bed, her bright blue eyes opening slowly and settling on him.

To Lorelai he said: "And his bottle is coffee, with just a splash of milk?"

"Shhh," Lorelai said, gesturing dramatically towards the kitchen. "His father hasn't figured that out yet."

Tristan chuckled, mostly just to humor Lorelai.

"So," she said, leadingly. "What exactly do you have in store for my daughter?"

Tristan chose the easier answer. "Oh, you know, grab some food somewhere. Then a friend of mine is having people over for a poker game. He's a friend of Rory's from Yale, I thought she might like to tag along."

"Oh yeah, do I know this friend?"

"His name's Finn. Australian guy, heavy accent."

"Ah yes. I know Finn."

"Good kid," Tristan said vaguely, trying to offset the judgy tone he had caught in Lorelai's voice.

"Well I guess I haven't heard any of those stories, you'll have to fill me in some day."

Tristan didn't know what to say. He looked over at Matthew who was now watching him with both eyes fully open and awake.

"Are those your army guys by the fireplace?" he asked the boy.

Matthew nodded. "Do you want to show them to me?"

Matthew scooted off the couch and sat down by his pile of toys. Tristan sat down on the floor next to him. They played war as the minutes ticked by.

"Sorry, I'm ready now," Rory said, interrupting the machine gun noises Tristan was making. He looked up at her standing in the doorway, leather boots, fishnets, mini skirt, v-neck sweater, soft curls, lipstick. God, she was trying to kill him.

He handed his army toy back to Matthew. "We'll finish another time," he told the boy. He stood up and headed towards Rory.

"You kids have fun, now," Lorelai said, cheerily. "Tristan it was so nice to meet you. Make sure you tell your girlfriend that you're escorting Rory to this party. And Rory, hon, if you bump into Logan at his best friend's house, make sure to ask him about his wife."

"Mom!" Rory said, surprised by her mother's cold words and warm smile.

"Damn these hormones," she said. "That came out all wrong."

"Sure it did. Let's go," Rory said as she pushed Tristan to the front door.

Tristan had offered to take Rory to dinner in town, but she insisted on getting out of Stars Hollow. So he took the liberty of driving into Hartford, knowing full well that if they were already there it would be easier to convince her to go with him to Finn's.

Their car ride was pretty silent. It wasn't uncomfortable, though. Tristan had given Rory control of his iPod and so she sat, feet up on the dash of his hundred thousand dollar car, but he didn't care. Every few songs she would tell him an anecdote, sometimes about her friend Lane and her various musical escapades, sometimes about seeing the band live. She even went off trying to relate the Chili Peppers to Proust in a line of reasoning that Tristan could not follow but also could not dissuade her from believing in wholeheartedly.

He pulled into a tapas restaurant, Andalucia. The place was very trendy, but it was early and a Thursday, so he figured they'd get a table. And he had been right. So it didn't take long to be seated and sipping a glass of red wine as they waited for their food.

"Can I ask you what that was back there with your mom?" he asked, voicing the question that had been on his mind for nearly an hour now.

Rory sighed and took a long sip from her glass. She put it down and Tristan grabbed the bottle to top it off.

"My mom is not exactly your biggest fan," she said, looking sheepish.

Tristan couldn't suppress a smirk. "You don't say."

Rory smiled softly. "It's not you, though, really. It's me. It's the way I have always been drawn in to the Hartford life she has rejected. It's the trouble I have gotten myself into when I get too deeply involved in that life." She took another sip of wine, but did not continue.

"Trouble?" he asked. "You have been nothing but the prodigal daughter."

"Hello, grand theft boating charge," she said playfully.

"Okay, so there's that," he said.

"And then there's the whole Logan thing. Our relationship was far from the fairy tale I tried to convince my mother it was. She basically thinks I sell myself short when I'm involved in your world."

"Mine?"

Rory looked at him for a moment, really looked at him. Tristan wanted to break eye contact and take a comforting sip of his drink, but he didn't dare.

"She doesn't like that I want to spend time with you when you have a girlfriend."

She's leaving me for a job, and I'm okay with that, he wanted to say. "Why, is she afraid you'll seduce me?" he said, huskily, but with a smirk he hoped she would interpret as being playful.

And she smiled, playing along. "I hope you are wearing a chastity belt. And that you carry a rape whistle."

The waiter appeared with a basket of bread. He had clearly heard Rory's last comment and was struggling to hide the bemused look on his face. He walked away and Tristan and Rory laughed.

"So if you have been raised to reject this life, and you did a very good job in high school, I might add...then what has drawn you to it as an adult?"

Rory grabbed a piece of bread from the basket. She stalled, clearly thinking about his question. After dipping the bread into the olive oil, chewing, swallowing, and sipping some wine she said: "It was Logan, I guess."

"So love turned you towards the finer things in life?"

"No," she said thoughtfully, ripping another piece of her bread. "I had been in love before Logan, and I was happy having a low-key relationship. I guess with Logan, for the first time, I guess I just felt alive. Like I was an active participant in my own life."

She was blushing a little. What had made her blush? What had made her feel alive?

"And what did it take to get Rory Gilmore to stop trying to live vicariously through her books and start experiencing her own life?"

Rory swirled her bread in the olive oil. "So the story that comes to mind, you can't laugh."

"I will try my best."

"One time my grandparents threw me this ridiculous party where they invited all of their Yale Alumni friends and their bachelor sons."

"Get out."

"I couldn't make this stuff up if I tried."

"How old were you?"

"I don't know, I think I was still 19. And the real kicker was I had a boyfriend. They just didn't think Dean was good enough for me, so they were taking it upon themselves to relieve me of him."

Dean. Tristan remembered him. How could he have forgotten? They had still been together after high school? "Typical," he said simply.

Rory nibbled on her bread and continued. "Logan was there. I already knew him from Yale, and to be honest he was already on my radar, even with Dean in my life. And so Logan rescued me from the matchmaking, pulling me into the pool house with Colin and Finn and a bunch of other guys who you probably know. And we drank champagne and laughed at the other guests and planned rebellions against our presuming relatives."

Tristan wasn't really seeing the whole feeling alive thing, but he just refilled their wine glasses and let her continue.

"So then Dean showed up. And he saw all the guys, and my drunk self, and the stupid diamond tiara I was wearing. And he dumped me on the spot."

"Asshole," Tristan muttered.

Rory smiled and shook her head. "I was wearing a diamond tiara, I would have dumped me too. So anyway, Logan just draped his arm around me and steered me back into our little pool house party. And that night I just let go. I had never really let myself have fun before, play drinking games, flirt with boys. And Logan got it. They all did. We were all this little outcast society. Too snobby for the Deans of the world, too down to earth for the preppy guys in my Grandmother's house. He was the first person who got it. And I knew in that moment I wanted to experience life with him, indulge in nice champagne and persue my passions. Adventure, the verb."

The waiter came then, dropping off the first round of tapas they had ordered. The distraction gave Rory a moment to collect herself. Tristan watched her as she shook off some if the emotion that had built up during her story.

He waited until the waiter walked away. "So why aren't you still adventuring with him? What happened?"

She sighed loudly, genuinely. "The practical part of my brain eventually woke up and realized that I needed more than that, that I am wired for more than that."

"And your mom?" he asked, returning to the question that had led them down this path.

"Would rather see me waste away my youth than be that girl again."

"Well Mary," he said. "If there's anything I've learned from my years of frivolous living and the subsequent terms I spent in military school hell, life is about balance."

"That sounds like a toast."

Tristan smirked and held up his glass. "To balance," he said, and clinked his wine against hers.

Time: 9:07

Alcohol consumption: Two and a half glasses of wine

Feeling: Warm, social, and unwilling to go home and ruin a good buzz

And so of course after a good meal, great chat, and expensive Merlot, when he asked her again about Finn's party, she said of course she would go, that she would like to see her old friends.

"Party's not for another hour though," he said.

"Want to get dessert somewhere?"

"How about here, we could have some more wine?"

She considered it for a second. "I want ice cream. The last one of the summer."

Tristan agreed, paid their bill, and joined her on a walk down the street to an ice cream shop. It was good, but not nearly as good as Taylor's, she thought hazily.

Time: 10:13

Alcohol consumption: Two and a half glasses of wine

Feeling: Losing that warm buzz from an hour ago

She saw him as soon as they walked into the living room. He was seated at one of the three poker tables set up in the large space, his game having already started. Tristan must have picked up on the way she was staring at Logan because he was watching her with a funny expression.

"Well if it isn't the long lost Rory Gilmore," Finn said loudly. He crossed the room in a few easy strides and had Rory in an embrace before she could even respond to his greeting.

"Ah Finn, you remember me, you old softy," she teased, patting him on the back.

"You're hard to forget, kid. Especially with Huntzberger lamenting letting you go every time he gets the drunk sobs." Finn had pulled away and was moving on to shake Tristan's hand. "Dugrey, you old devil."

Rory looked across the room, back towards Logan. He was looking right at her now, no doubt because of Finn's boisterous welcome. She broke eye contact and turned towards Tristan and Finn, desperately fighting the urge to stare at her feet.

Colin had joined the small circle now and he greeted Rory with another warm hug. The boys steered their guests over to the built in bar.

"She's fully stocked, help yourselves. Mi casa es su casa," Colin said.

"Actually Colin, I do believe this is my casa."

"Isn't it your stepmother's name on the mortgage?" Colin retorted.

"Help yourselves," Finn repeated. "There is a fine scotch that I highly recommend. Dugrey, if you want a seat at the second poker table I think a new game is starting in about ten minutes."

"Count me in."

"Rory?"

"I think I'll just watch, thanks."

Colin looked at her skeptically. "Watch? We taught you our best moves, invested hours into your education."

"I'm letting you boys off easy tonight, McCrae. I wouldn't want to crash your boys night and take you for all you're worth."

The boys walked away. "What shall it be, Mary?" Tristan asked, gesturing to the rather impressive collection of bottles behind the bar.

"What are you drinking?

"I might take him up on his scotch offer."

"Gin and tonic," she said after a moment's consideration. "And can you make it heavy on the gin?"

"At your service," he answered, walking around to the other side of the bar to prepare their drinks. "Although the heavy on the gin part may need an explanation."

Rory gave into her urge to stare at her feet, collected herself, and craned her head ever so slightly towards Logan.

"He makes you an alcoholic? No wonder your mother hates him."

"I haven't spoken to him since I told him I couldn't marry him."

"Huh," Tristan said, but he proceeded to pour a generous amount of gin into her glass. He quickly poured his own glass and raised it. He didn't have a toast prepared, just sipped. She did the same.

"Ugh that burns."

"Strong stuff those heavy on the gin and tonics."

"Thank you," she said, reaching over the bar to grab an extra lime.

"Stay close to me tonight, he won't bother you."

She studied his face, saw a shade of determination in his eyes. She simply nodded and squeezed her lime into her drink.

Time: 10:46

Alcohol consumption: Two and a half glasses of wine and one extra gin easy tonic.

Feeling: The return of her buzz.

"Time for a refill," she said, shaking her empty glass. "You boys need anything?"

She got up from Tristan's side at the poker table, took note of the boys' drink requests, and headed towards the bar.

Tristan glanced over towards Logan's game. Sure enough he was watching Rory as she crossed the room. Tristan looked down at his cards. He had a full house. He was fairly certain he had one of the better hands at the table. He decided to stand pat. His eyes returned to Logan. He watched as Logan tipped his head back, finishing off the contents of his glass. He stood, glass in hand, and walked towards the bar.

Rory was busy pouring drinks. She wasn't watching his approach. Tristan debated getting up and backing her up at the bar. Would that just make things worse? Damn. If he had known that things were this unsettled between them then maybe he wouldn't have pushed her to come. Maybe.

He strained to hear what Logan said as he approached, but couldn't hear over the noise of the games. He watched as she reacted to Logan, probably making some witty remark to offset the moment. He wished she hadn't taken his drink for a refill, he needed it in this moment.

And then her eyes flickered towards him and met his own, briefly, almost unnoticeably. But he noticed. And he knew it was time. Damn the game, damn the money in the pot. "Fold," he said abruptly, throwing his cards face down as he walked away from the game, ignoring the protests of the other players.

She saw him approaching and had a moment of doubt. Logan was just sitting here, making small talk about nothing really. She didn't need backup. But she also didn't want their conversation to change directions and become serious. God, why the hell was she here? She knew he would be here and she came anyway. But she knew, on some sick level she still needed a measure of closure. Not seeing him all these years hadn't been enough to reassure her that she had made the right decision. And yet, she felt completely ill equipped to deal with it now that the opportunity had finally presented itself.

And so, when Tristan slipped behind the bar, she didn't protest as he stood directly behind her, placing his hands on either side of the counter, blocking her in but surrounding her completely. She also didn't protest as he leaned in and whispered and whispered in her ear: "Do you need me?" She even leaned into him a little, momentarily wrapped up in the feeling of his warm breath on her neck.

She put a hand over his on the counter. "Logan, you know Tristan, right?"

"AYSO soccer teammates from '90 to '97," he said, smiling that Logan smile, the polite one. "How's it going, man?"

Tristan leaned over the bar to shake Logan's offers hand. As he did so, he pressed a little harder against Rory. Even when he withdrew his hand, he didn't back away. Again, she didn't stop him.

"Can't complain," Tristan answered.

"Where's Carly tonight?" Logan asked, looking Rory dead in the eyes. "She's usually your good luck charm."

"Doing her own thing in Germany," he responded, not missing a beat.

Logan studied Tristan for a moment, then turned his attention to Rory. "That's funny," he said, the smile back on his face now.

Rory didn't dare ask, but Tristan bit the bait. "What?"

Logan reached for the scotch. "You never let go of the fact that I had sex with some of my sister's friends. And now you're no different than them. But the real ironic part of the story is that I was never a fucking cheater." He poured the liquor into his glass and took a swig. He looked pointedly at Rory. "Tell Carly I say hi."

Logan walked straight past his poker table and out of the room. He didn't stop until he reached the far end of the house, an office of some sort. He didn't bother to look for a light switch. He needed a minute in the dark.

That wasn't how he had wanted it to go, seeing Rory. He had told himself long ago, after that one night he had blubbered to his friends that he missed her (a night they never let him live down), that she had walked away, he hadn't fought for her to stay, and so it was over.

Contrary to popular belief, he was not in love with her anymore. He wasn't someone who let people walk all over him. And holding a candle for a girl who rejected him equalled being walked all over, in his book anyway.

But damn Dugrey. His arm around her, acting like she was his. He could see in her eyes that Tristan's caveman move had surprised her. He hadn't intended to lose it like that. But Finn's scotch was strong. It had gone to his head. Much like Rory always managed to do.