Title: Favors
Author: Diddlee
Disclaimer: As usual, not mine.
Feedback: Much appreciated.
Tristan rolled to his side, forcefully rubbing the sleep from his eyes. His arm flew out, fumbling in the darkness, searching for his clock. Finding the clock, he pulled it within inches of his eyes trying to make out the numbers. In so doing, he stretched the cord until the prongs bent, and finally the plug fell from the outlet.
“Dammit,” he uttered, throwing the clock back to the nightstand.
He laid on his back, arms spread to the side, staring at the ceiling, waiting for his eyes to get accustomed to the dimly lit room. Satisfied that he could now see, he swung his legs over the side of the bed, and reached out to steady himself as he stood. He made his way across the room to the adjoining bathroom.
Flipping on the light, he shielded his eyes from the brightness, glancing at the clock on wall facing the shower. A few minutes after 4. He rolled his eyes, letting out a slight sigh at the realization that he still had 2 hours before it was time to get ready for school.
He turned the handle on the faucet, letting the cool stream flow through his fingers. Lowering his head, he splashed water on his face, running a wet hand through his tousled hair. He grabbed the nearest towel, covering his face, pressing his face deeper into the cloth. A few seconds passed as he held his face in his hands. He patted the droplets from his hair, wadded up the towel, and threw it across the room. It rattled the hamper as it hit the side, bouncing off and ending in a damp heap on the tiled floor.
Tristan watched the water pool at the bottom of the sink, momentarily pausing before escaping through the drain. He looked up, meeting his own stare in the mirror. Placing his hands on either side of the sink, he leaned forward, examining his face.
“What is wrong with you, DuGrey,” he muttered, searching his own eyes for the answer.
His eyes moved over each feature, shaking his head at what he saw. What exactly did the girls see in him? He had pondered that question many times, never arriving at a satisfying answer. His looks certainly helped him in the dating department, but his beauty was only skin deep. Most of his relationships ended fairly quickly, out of fear that they would discover that there was nothing underneath his attractive exterior. He exuded an air of confidence, but he knew that he was only hiding his own emptiness.
He had no close friendships, no close relationships, fearing that someone would find out his secret and reveal him to the world. He never let anyone see the real person. That Tristan was standing in his bathroom at 4 in the morning, wearing only his flannel pajama bottoms. Staring himself down in the mirror, looking for one quality that he was proud of, finding none.
A year ago, his life was enough. The girls, the money, the popularity. He was tired of this game. Tired of this facade. He no longer wanted to keep up the charade. What had changed in that short year?
She had entered his life.
At first she was a challenge, another conquest on the long list of his prey. But she had become more. He had watched her reject his advances, holding her own with the bright students at Chilton. In a school filled with fake personas, she was real. She didn’t care what people thought, didn’t seek popularity to justify who she was. She was more than just a pretty girl.
For the first time he found himself falling for a girl. She deserved someone who was honest, who wouldn’t hurt her or parade her around as a trophy. None of which described Tristan. But he was changing that. He was determined that it was time to let someone in. Time to open himself up to possibility of being hurt.
She was the one.
He turned out the light and retraced his steps to his bed. Pushing the covers aside, he climbed in, leaned across the nightstand, and plugged in his alarm clock. He fiddled with the buttons until he set an approximate time. Setting the alarm for a few hours later, he laid on his back, crossed his arms behind his head, and stared at the ceiling. Thinking of what he had to do that day, he searched his thoughts for the best words convey his request. Lost in thought, his eyelids became heavier as he drifted off to sleep.
________________________________________________________________________
Tristan shut the door to his car, slung his bookbag over his shoulder, and jogged across the parking lot. It was Wednesday morning and he was running late, intentionally. Today was one of those days he wanted as little contact as possible with the other students at Chilton. Strategically arriving late prevented him from participating in the meaningless chatter in the hallways before class.
He quickly moved through the hallway, briefly stopping at his locker to get his books for his first period. He entered the back of the room, sliding into the only available seat just as the morning announcements were finishing.
“Nice of you to join us Mr. DuGrey. To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“I’m sorry Mr. Medina. It won’t happen again,” he replied quickly.
“Well, you can apologize all you want while you keep me company after school.”
“Yes, Mr. Medina,” Tristan obediently responded. He had been through this whole ordeal before. He was glad Mr. Medina used this informal form of detention, rather than marking up his file.
Tristan slouched down in his chair as Mr. Medina began that day’s lecture. He jotted down a few important phrases while sneaking in a few looks at Rory. She was two rows over and a few seats up, and she was intently focused on the subject at hand. He admired her ability to completely lose herself in a topic. He imperceptibly shook his head, and returned to the task of taking notes.
________________________________________________________________________
Rory stood in front of her locker, debating which books to take for finals preparation. With the upcoming finals, she had decided to spend a little extra time after school studying. Luckily for her, the bus to Stars Hollow ran every hour, allowing her spend some quality time alone with her work. It was so much easier to study when she was still in school mode. After much contemplation, she settled on her government book, placing it in her bag, and discarding the others into their neatly arranged order in the back of the locker.
She started down the hallway, heading for her favorite study spot. Something caught her eye, stopping her in her tracks. She backed up a few steps, paused momentarily, and then opened the door to the classroom.
“Mr. Medina would never make a good prison guard,” she said mockingly, glancing around at the empty classroom.
From her stance behind him, she couldn’t see the smile spread across his face at the sound of her voice. In the month or so since Madeline’s party, Rory had seemed to overcome the awkwardness of their kiss. They were actually on civil speaking terms, and forming, dare he say, a friendship. Regaining his composure, he turned in his seat to face her.
“Well, I got credit for good behavior, and with that come perks such unsupervised recreation. I didn’t realize he was letting me have conjugal visits too,” Tristan said, with a teasing grin.
He watched her cheeks turn a bright shade of pink at his innuendo of sex. He changed the subject quickly, before she could dwell on that statement.
“Aren’t you going to miss your bus?”
Rory was glad he changed the subject. She couldn’t control the blush that was spreading over her cheeks when she thought of Tristan in that way.
“No, I’m staying late to prepare for finals. The environment at home is not really conducive to studying when my mother is there. Something about my mother and finals. She’s always wanting me to join her in a game of Clue or Candyland. The worst was when she made me play Twister and then we spent 2 hours in the emergency room x-raying her ankle. If the final had been in anatomy, I would have aced it.”
‘You probably aced it anyway though.”
Her silence confirmed his guess.
“Well, I better go before Mr. Medina finds me fraternizing with the inmates. I wouldn’t want him to think that any of your criminal ways were rubbing off on me.” She grabbed her bag from where she had dropped it at her feet, and headed for the door.
“Hey Rory,” Tristan stopped her before she left. “Can I ask you a question?”
“You can ask, but I’m not guaranteeing I’ll answer,” she said as she turned to face him.
“We’re, uh, friends now..., right?”, he asked hesitantly.
“Yeah, I guess, at least in the loose sense of the word,” she replied with a questioning look, wondering where this conversation was going.
“And friends do things for other friends right?”
Rory felt like she was blindfolded heading down an unknown path. “Sure, I guess.”
“Well I have a favor to ask of you.”
She remained silent, waiting for his proposal.
“Well, you see, my cousin is getting married in a few weeks, and while I got out of being a groomsman, my mother won’t let me get out of the wedding entirely. And it’s one of those weddings where you need a date. And since I’ve been avoiding the whole dating scene for a while, I don’t really have anyone that I would want to ask. Or at least, there’s no one I want meeting my family, as weird as they are, and I was hoping that you would accompany me.” Tristan finished rambling.
Rory looked at him for a second. “Are you asking me out on a date?”
Tristan took it as a good sign that she hadn’t flat out denied him already. “No, not a date. It’s just a wedding. Completely platonic. I swear,” he added when she gave him a skeptical look.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea, given our history.”
“Please Rory,” he pleaded. “I’ll owe you one.”
The sincerity in his voice led Rory to reconsider. She wavered a few moments longer. “I don’t have anything to wear,” she said honestly.
“I’ll take care of it,” he replied.
“You’re not buying...”
“I’ll take care of it,” he said more adamantly, cutting off her protests.
Rory searched her mind for another reason why she couldn‘t go. “Is it here in Hartford?”
“No, it’s about 2 hours from here.”
“I’m not sure my mother will let me,” she said, playing the overprotective parent card.
“I’ll give her my cell phone, my parents’ cell phones, and the reception hall phone numbers. She’ll be able to reach us by phone, fax, or page all night long.”
Rory was running out of excuses. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was beginning to think that this might be fun. She hadn’t been to a wedding in a long time, and she had never been to a formal wedding before. She pondered for a few moments, and made her decision.
“Is there going to be dancing? Cause if there’s dancing, I’ll have to remember to take my dance card to keep all the suitors straight.”
Tristan smiled, elated that she was accepting his offer. “As long as you reserve a spot on that card for me.”
“Deal,” she said, returning his smile.
With that, she turned and exited the room.
Watching her go, Tristan let out the breath he had been holding for the last few minutes. Though he had asked out many girls, many times, nothing was as nerve-wracking as that encounter. But he had succeeded. Rory was going to be his date to this wedding. Completely platonic of course.
________________________________________________________________________
Since the wedding was closer to Hartford than to Stars Hollow, they had agreed that Tristan would pick her up at her grandparents’ house at around 5. Rory decided to spend that Friday night with her grandparents in the room they had designed for her. Tristan promised that everything she needed would be there sometime Saturday afternoon. Rory was anxious to see what she would be wearing. She wondered how Tristan would get a dress, and hoped that he had found somewhere to rent, or at least where it could be returned.
Rory looked up from her studying when she heard a light knock on the door.
“Come in.”
She moved to a seated position and watched her grandmother bring in garment bag and a shopping bag. Emily was smiling from ear to ear. She was thrilled that Rory was attending a social function with a member of the DuGrey family. The DuGreys were wealthy, and she considered them to be one of the finest families in Hartford.
“Thanks Grandma,” Rory feigned interest in her studies. Truthfully, she was dying to see what was in those bags.
“Are you going to open them or not?”, Emily asked, anxious to see what Rory would be wearing.
“I don’t want you to see it before I get a chance to try it on. If you wait for the whole ensemble, I’m sure it will be much more exciting.”
Emily tried to hide her disappointment, but respected Rory’s wishes. “Well then, I’ll leave you to your studying and see you when you’re dressed. Let me know if you need anything,” she requested as she closed the door.
Rory waited until she heard her footsteps retreat down the hall, then rushed over to where Emily had placed the bags. She went first for the garment bag, carefully unzipping it so as not to catch the fabric. She removed the outer covering, and took a step back.
Her jaw dropped. She stood there with her mouth wide open, gaping at what she saw.
________________________________________________________________________
Rory leaned into the mirror, fussing with one strand of hair, trying to get it to fall into place. She had decided on a style with her hair down, with big loose curls falling down her back. Finally satisfied with her hair, she took a step back to look at the whole image.
She couldn’t believe how she looked. The dress Tristan had sent over was one of those dresses that she admired on the rack, but would never have the guts to buy for herself. It was a two piece formal dress, in the deepest shade of red that brought out subtle reddish highlights in her hair. The top had wide straps that went straight over her shoulders meeting the square neckline. The back dipped low enough to show her shoulder blades, but not too low to be considered immodest. The matching skirt began about an inch below the top, perfectly fitting her slim waist and gradually widening all the way to the bottom, just above her perfectly dyed shoes. She self-consciously crossed her arm over her bare midriff, admiring the shoes with their broad-based chunk heel. Elegant, yet practical. There was even a small matching handbag to complete the look.
She smiled at herself in the mirror. Hearing the doorbell downstairs, she quickly gave herself the once-over, searched through the handbag seeing that she had everything she needed, and took a deep breath.
_______________________________________________________________________
Tristan firmly pressed the doorbell with his shaking hand.
“Breathe DuGrey. In. Out.”, he coached himself.
The door swung open, revealing a very happy woman. Her wide smiled eased his nerves a bit.
“Hello, Mrs. Gilmore. I’m Tristan DuGrey.” He hoped she didn’t hear the slight shaking in his voice.
“Nice to meet you Tristan. Won’t you come in,” she motioned with her arm. “Rory should be down in a few minutes. Richard, come meet Rory’s date,” Emily said into the adjoining room.
Tristan distractedly participated in the exchanging of formalities. He was used to these brief exchanges having attended many of his grandparents formal parties. Every few seconds or so, his eyes flashed to the stairway, in search of Rory. His movements didn’t go unnoticed. He didn’t see Emily softly nudge Richard, nor did he see their smiles widen each time his eyes flew to the stairway.
________________________________________________________________________
Rory stood at the top of the stairs, out of sight from the people below. Her grandmother insisted that she keep Tristan waiting a few minutes, regardless if she was ready or not. She heard their voices trail up the stairway, as Tristan described his father’s business to her grandfather.
Deciding she had waited long enough, she lifted the front of her skirt, and started down the stairs.
She was a few steps from the top when Tristan saw her. Emily could tell from his reaction that Rory must be on her way down. She turned around to see her granddaughter descending the stairs.
Rory was looking down, making sure she didn’t trip over the hem of her dress. Satisfied that she was progressing well, she looked up, her eyes immediately meeting Tristan’s. She held back a giggle at the expression on his face. Other than the dance, he had never seen her dressed up. And she knew she looked a lot better in this getup than in the dreaded blue plaid of her Chilton uniform.
“Rory!”, her grandmother exclaimed. “You look absolutely amazing.” Richard echoed Emily’s praises.
Tristan didn’t say a word. He couldn’t.
Rory went over the instructions, assuring her grandparents of the location, the phone numbers, and every other detail they demanded. The bartered on a curfew, finally agreeing on a time that would allow for the driving distance.
“Bye Grandma. Bye Grandpa.” Tristan couldn’t take his eyes off of her as she hugged her grandparents goodbye.
He followed her through the door, hearing it shut behind them. Still not having said a word, he watched the evening breeze tousle her hair.
“You look stunning,” he said, almost in a whisper.
She turned to face him. “Thank you,” she replied sincerely. “I feel like Cinderella.”
She watched a smile spread to his lips. “I guess that makes me Prince Charming.” He was standing there in a jet-black tuxedo, that evidently was his own. It fit his broad shoulders perfectly, and it was obviously not rented at one of the cheap prom stores down the street.
“I was thinking more like my Fairy Godmother,” she returned his smile. “You know, the whole dress and shoes and all.”
“That reminds me. I forgot to send this over earlier.” He reached into a inner pocket on his tuxedo, pulling out a narrow box. He opened it, took out a piece of jewelry, and returned the box to his coat pocket. He held out his hand, opening so she could see what it was. “This is to complete the look.”
Rory gawked at the necklace he held in his hand. It was a silver strand sprinkled with glistening rubies and diamonds. She reached out her hand running her fingers over the jewels.
“Tristan... I can’t.” she uttered, knowing the necklace cost a fortune.
“Don’t worry. It’s on loan. My mother let me borrow it for tonight,” he lied. He knew he would never convince her to wear it if she knew he had spent hours in the jewelry store this afternoon picking it out. He had picked out the dress, the shoes, and the handbag, but hadn’t expected that she would look this radiant in the ensemble. He lightly grasped her shoulder, turning her around. She held up mass of hair, giving him access to her neck. He shut his eyes momentarily as he inhaled the scent of her shampoo, perfume, and whatever else she was wearing. He gently placed the necklace around her neck, closing the clasp.
Rory released her hair, letting it cascade down her back. She turned to face him, with one hand protectively guarding the necklace.
Tristan grinned. He made a swooping motion with his arm, slightly bending at the waist, and lowering his head.
“Your carriage awaits, Ms. Gilmore.”
**************************
To be continued