Title: Leaves

Author: hitokamei@yahoo.co.uk

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: R/T

Disclaimer: Everything belongs to ASP and all those companies. I've spent all my money on Christmas presents anyway.

Author's Note: Thanks to Rianna for betaing. Completed February 2002.

*

Rory sighed, hanging up the phone. She had planned to spend New Year's at home. Her mother was throwing one of her infamous parties, and Rory had been looking forward to it with equal parts excitement and dread. It was sure to be even crazier than the parties Lorelai threw for Rory's birthday each year; Lorelai wouldn't drink anything stronger than coffee at Rory's birthday parties, but that restriction wouldn't apply to her New Year's Eve bash. Rory hoped all the windows would be intact come morning, but she wasn't holding out much hope. Especially now, since she wouldn't be there.

Her grandmother had required - well, technically, requested, but she hadn't taken no for an answer -- Rory's presence at her own shindig. Rory had been to her grandparents' parties before. Last year her grandmother had thrown her very own party for Rory's birthday. The adults had outnumbered the children, although her grandmother had thoughtfully invited all of Rory's classmates; it was an unhappy coincidence, and not at all her grandmother's fault, that Rory despised them all.

Rory wasn't quite sure how her grandmother had persuaded her to abandon her mother, her friends, and fun in favour of a night spent at the morgue, but persuade her she had. Rory also wasn't quite sure how her mother would take the news.

+++++

"Let me get this straight. You're ditching Dick Clark, the foliage, the pony, and let's not forget me, for a fun-filled time with Hartford's rowdiest middle-aged octogenarians?"

"Have you been underlining words in my dictionary again?"

"No changing the subject, missy. I thought you were looking forward to this." Lorelai frowned, looking hurt.

"I was," Rory answered defensively. "I just couldn't say no. I mean, I did, say no I mean, but… then she started going on about all her friends wanting to see me, and Grandpa being disappointed, and, and I felt like Goneril." Rory paused, gazing off into space. "Well, I would have felt like Goneril if some things had been different--"

"Who's Goneril?" Lorelai interrupted. "One of those Chilton snobs?"

"Close." Rory grimaced. "But that's not the point. Before I knew it, I had agreed. I opened my mouth planning to say 'no,' but I heard 'sure, Grandma.' I'm pathetic."

"Don't beat yourself up. You're not pathetic, you're just pathetically easy to manipulate."

Rory narrowed her eyes at her mother. "Well, I'm thrilled I'm the only one still upset about this. Take a few more pot-shots, you'll feel even better!"

Lorelai leaned over to hug Rory. "Oh, honey. It's not so bad. I mean, you like mom and dad. Scientists will be baffled by this fact for decades, if not centuries, to come, but there it is. And you'll still get to see the pony. In fact, you'll still get to clean up after the pony. So it's not all bad."

Rory pulled away, laughing. "As long as I still get to decorate it I suppose I can deal with the loss. And with Paris."

Lorelai gasped in horror. "Oh, no! Lemon-face is going to be there!"

"Mom," Rory protested.

"Well, she is a sour-puss." Rory opened her mouth, and closed it again, defeated. Lorelai grinned triumphantly. "Well, you can spend the whole night avoiding her like you should studying, or you can enter into the spirit of the New Year."

"Right. The foliage."

"Exactly," Lorelai beamed. "You catch on fast, kid. Turning over a new leaf." She looked around for something leaf-shaped, gave up, and demonstrated with the salt shaker, provoking a bellow from the direction of the kitchen.

"Stop pouring salt all over my counter! Just stop it! She's getting it on the muffins now! I swear to God..."

Lorelai slammed the shaker back down, and turned to Rory. "As much fun as we all know Henry is, it might be nice to have another friend at Chilton. You do have a year and a half left. I'm not saying you should serve as handmaiden to the Evil Ones, but ah, having someone to sit with at lunch is a rite of passage. Something all girls must attempt to attain before they can achieve grown-upness."

"I've tried to be friends with Paris, mom--"

Lorelai held up a hand. "I know. I know exactly what you've done. It's possible that Paris is an Evil One, and therefore a lost cause, but I think you should try one more time. At the start of the night, so if that doesn't work, you can try with someone else. You haven't tried with anyone else." Rory opened her mouth to deny the charge, but thought better of it. "One attempt at a friendship does not an effort make. Let's make a deal. At this party you will mingle. You will approach young human beings -- live young human beings, the Bennett sisters don't count -- and talk to them. If Paris blows you off you will approach someone else, even if you know no one else there. You will throw your coffee on them so they will be forced to notice you. Excluding Paris and her cronies you will do this four times, or until you become so unbearably humiliated you want to climb the Christmas Tree and pretend to be the angel so people will no longer point and laugh, whichever comes last. Deal?"

Rory stared at her mother's outstretched hand, but made no move to take it. "What do I get out of this Monty?"

Lorelai thought for a moment. "This lovely tartan sofa? Okay, I know, we'll keep the pony an extra day."

Rory frowned. "I don't want to keep the pony an extra day. I like ponies; I don't want it to die. I'm already quite worried about its safety in your sole care."

Lorelai pouted. "You'll never let me forget that one time, will you?"

"It was not one--"

"I'll think of something, hold on. Hmm. Hmm. I'll… I'll… do the laundry!"

"I did the laundry two days ago. Desperate times call for desperate measures; it was that or move a pile into the attic."

"Well then, I'll just… I'll… I'll give you all my coffee from Luke's for a whole day! Well, all the coffee you see me getting," she amended.

Rory was impressed. "Wow. You really want this, don't you? You got yourself a deal. Four people."

"And Paris," Lorelai reminded, seizing Rory's hand and pumping it up and down vigorously, before she had a chance to back out.

Rory groaned, but didn't protest. "Fine. I'll see you later, I have to get to Lane's." She hopped off her stool and made her way to the door. "By the way," she called over her shoulder, "you like to wear pink, right?"

"Sure," Lorelai said abstractedly, engrossed in making patterns in the salt. "Although a six-foot angel might draw a little attention." She spun around suddenly, and lunged after Rory. "Wait a second! Pink? What did you waash?"

+++++

Rory did another lap of the room, her fingers nervously picking at the hem of her dress. She had been at the party for an hour, there were three hours until midnight, and Paris hadn't arrived yet. She had five people to get through in three hours, and she hadn't yet been able to work up the confidence to approach one.

She turned abruptly and retraced her steps, eyes roaming the sea of unfamiliar faces, searching for anyone she knew. Start small. Just start. Craning her neck to look at the doorway, she didn't notice the boy until she bounced off him.

Flustered, she stared up at him from the floor, blinking blankly. Was this as good as wasting perfectly good coffee? Grinning at her confusion, the boy stretched out a hand to help her up. Rory grasped it and let him pull her to her feet. He didn't let go, and she realised she hadn't spoken.

"S-sorry about that. I didn't mean to, um…"

"Plow yourself down?"

"Well, yes. I mean, no, I didn't mean to. I usually find myself at a conversational disadvantage while lying on the floor. Not that being vertical is helping me now." Rory tugged her hand out of the boy's grasp, and checked that her skirt was where it should be. "I'm very sorry; I wasn't looking where I was going."

"That's all right. I'm Edward."

"Rory." They smiled at each other, and the silence grew. "Um, are you here with your parents?"

"Grandparents, actually. They're close friends with the hosts, but I got suckered into coming along. Not that it's not, um..." Edward gazed around at the revellers sceptically, apparently finding the search for a polite description of the party fruitless.

"I know what you mean. I'm here for the same reason. Well, except that my grandparents aren't close friends with the hosts, they are the hosts."

"Ah. Your grandfather told me all about you then. He meant to introduce us, but it's probably lucky we bumped into each other; the last time I saw him, he was discussing something in the Financial Times with my grandfather. If I know my Granda they won't surface until next year."

"Oh, I'm sure my Grandma will collar him in time for the countdown. She's very efficient. So, do you live in Hartford?"

"Yeah, I've just moved here. I'm my grandparents' star exhibit at the moment. They're ecstatic to have a grandson to boast about down at the country club. Not that I mind."

"Where did you move from?"

"Germany."

It didn't take long before Rory was at her ease with Edward, chatting about all the places he had visited that she wanted to. His description of the delights of Rothenburg was interrupted by her grandmother's imperious voice.

"Rory! There you are." Rory didn't know how her grandmother managed to make that sound like an accusation. "Here's Miss Geller. I know you're school friends. Oh, and you've met Edward. He's going to Chilton next semester too, did he tell you?"

Having disposed of Paris, Emily wafted off to see to someone else, leaving the three teens staring at one another. The atmosphere was suddenly tense, and Rory didn't know how to act around Paris. She cleared her throat.

"Paris. It's good to see you. Have you met Edward?" Met by a stony look from Paris she cast an enquiring glance at Edward, and received a shake of his head in return. "Well, Paris Geller, Edward, uh..."

"Thorndyke."

"Edward Thorndyke. Who is going to Chilton, as you know, has just moved here from Germany, and likes medieval sculpture. "

Paris' lips widened, but it didn't look like a smile to Rory. "Edward, good to meet you. This is Rory Gilmore. Her grandparents pay for her to go to Chilton because her mother can't afford it, and she has no friends at school because she lacks the most basic of social skills. She now seems to be under the impression that she is Bridget Jones, but I hope I have disabused her of that notion. Oh, look, there are Madeline and Louise. Shall we join them?"

Rory watched as Edward was borne off by Paris, casting a helpless glance over his shoulder at her, but making no attempt at escape. Oh, well. Did that introduction count as an attempt to befriend Paris? It took Rory all of a millisecond to decide that it did. Two and a half hours left. Two down, three to go.

The next time Rory looked at her watch it was 11:50. Ten minutes to find one final victim. The future lawyer had jettisoned her within five minutes; the prom queen had taken up some time, droning on about how hard it was to get up early enough to put on her make-up, do her hair, and still make it to school on time for second period. Rory's grandfather had eventually responded to the desperate looks that she was throwing his way, thank God, and sent her off on an imaginary errand.

But she still had one conversation to start if she wanted that coffee. Nine minutes. She was determined to leave as soon as the clock struck twelve. She hadn't realised how demoralising it would be to ring in the New Year alone. Her grandparents had each other, and wouldn't have time for her. She supposed she could draft in Claire, or maybe it was Isabel, the new maid, but that would be embarrassing, and only enhance the melancholiness of it all.

She was biting her lip, wondering if there was anyone in the room who wouldn't completely ruin what was left of her night, when she felt a tap on her shoulder and turned.

"Tristan."

Tristan gave Rory a lopsided smile. "Mary. So, are you here alone? Because if you are, I could give you a ride. I could give you a ride even if you're not."

Rory felt her cheeks flush, and glared up at him. "Do you even know whose party you're at, Tristan? Of course I'm not here alone. Wait a second, why would I be at one of these parties alone? I don't attend these things for the pleasure they bring; I spend a substantial portion of my time avoiding the people who frequent these. And I can drive myself, thank you very much."

Tristan's voice deepened. "I'd enjoy watching that. Where's the bag- boy? Or are you here with your mother?"

Rory furrowed her brow. "Neither, actually. I'm here with my grandparents."

The corners of Tristan's mouth turned up in amusement. "You can't be at your grandparent's house with your grandparents; that's not possible. You are here alone. So no-one will notice if we slip upstairs and start the year with a bang."

"Don't you mean the kind of smash that heralds a train wreck? Or maybe the sound of my fist connecting with your face. Although I think that might be more of a "thwap" sound. We should try it out and see."

"Mary, Mary. Lost the Christmas spirit so soon? You're not doing your namesake justice."

"My mother? I beg to differ," Rory murmured. She was distracted, having just reached the astounding conclusion that she was having a conversation with Tristan. Admittedly, it wasn't a friendly conversation, but that could change, and was compensated for by the fact that she hadn't had to start it. Did she want to have a friendly conversation with Tristan? Five minutes. Of course she did. She turned her attention back to him and smiled amiably.

*

Rory was smiling; Tristan was scared. What was she up to now?

"Tristan. So. What are you doing here?"

He blinked in surprise, and his suspicion grew. Why was she being banal? Not to mention friendly. "What am I actually doing, what is the purpose of the party, or why am I attending?"

"Pick one."

"I'm here because my grandfather was proudly informed by yours that you'd be here, and I've been looking forward to seeing you quite as much as he has. Although I sincerely hope for different reasons." Which was true, even if Tristan would have gone anywhere with his grandfather, and Rory wouldn't believe he was telling the truth for a heartbeat. He couldn't blame her.

"Okay, and what are your thoughts on the deeper meaning of the New Year? Aside from it being a socially acceptable reason to drink too much, I mean. No, that's no good. And you're not multitasking, so that's out… You're here with your grandfather?"

"Yeah. He's about here somewhere." Probably sneaking a cigar behind Tristan's back.

"I thought he was too sick to come out."

Tristan's face softened. "He was, but he's been feeling much better lately. He's able to get around well enough as long as he's not alone. He really wanted to come; he hasn't been out, socially I mean, in such a long time. Your grandmother is making such a fuss of him he must feel like a kid at Christmas. The last time I saw him, he was drinking brandy in the library with your grandfather, and discussing business, so I was graciously excused." He knew he was revealing too much, babbling, but he couldn't stop talking. Time for a change of subject.

"Sent packing." Rory grinned.

"Well, yes. Why are you here? Where's your mother?"

"At home, having a fun party. I came because Grandpa wanted me here, and Grandma was determined. She's a very good manipulator, because I am extremely hard to manipulate, but she managed it. It's not too bad though. I've only seen Grandpa twice, but Grandma's been too busy to introduce me to random strangers. Although that would have been helpful tonight."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Hmm. Did you see Paris?"

"I did."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault. It was once, but it's not anymore. She's just…"

"Stupid."

"Stupid?"

"Jealous."

"Jealous. There's no reason for her to be jealous. She has nothing to be afraid of; I'm not in competition with her."

Tristan forced a smile; it felt weak, but he knew it wouldn't look it. "You know she feels threatened by you. She thinks you're an evil usurper, who has come to Chilton expressly to prevent her from attaining her life's goal of becoming valedictorian."

Rory shifted uneasily, and dropped her gaze. "Right, valedictorian. I know that. It's just that, I thought she'd be over it by now. What does she want me to do, pretend to be stupid? It's boys that are supposed to want that, not girls."

Tristan opened his mouth to refute the accusation, but his reply was cut off by Emily calling the room to order.

"Everyone, please! The countdown is about to begin! First, I just want to thank you all for coming. It means so much to Richard and I to ring in the year with all of our dearest friends. May the next year bring you all the joy and prosperity you could wish for." Tristan moved up beside Rory until his shoulder was brushing hers, and listened as Emily began the countdown. "Now, it's almost time. Quiet, everyone. All right… now! Ten, nine, eight..."

Tristan chanted along with the crowd, and stared down at Rory as her lips moved soundlessly. It was traditional. He could kiss her, but he shouldn't, wouldn't. Wouldn't do that to himself.

"Three, two..."

Rory turned her face up to his, her lips parted, her eyes shining, looking so happy, and he found himself reaching out to touch her. Just touch her. Just a peck on the cheek, he thought hazily. Harmless. He felt his lips connect with hers, and cling. Waves of warmth tightened his body, and he began to slump towards her, draw her closer. He tried desperately to control himself, tried not to react to her. When he pulled away, he wasn't sure how successful he had been. Rory stared up at him, a puzzled look in her wide eyes, her cheeks as pink as her lips.

"Tristan!" He turned to see his grandfather beckoning.

"I better... I have to go and see what he wants," he told Rory, gesturing toward the old man. He walked away, and didn't look back.

*

Rory pressed her fingers to her lips, and stared after Tristan in shock. It wasn't anything he had done, really. It had just been a kiss. A chaste kiss, a sign of good will between friends, although they weren't even that anymore. But her heart had sped, her knees had weakened, and she had leaned in, wanting more.

Tristan was standing beside his grandfather, his head bent solicitously over the old man's. Rory's eyes met Mr DuGrey's, and he smiled that smile she knew so well, motioning for her to join them.

Rory spun around, pretending she hadn't seen him, hoping she wasn't being unforgivably rude. She threaded through the clusters of celebrating people, heading for the door. She was more determined than ever to leave immediately.

Rory drove home as fast as she could, not to confide in her mother or seek the sanctuary of her bedroom, but to catch the end of the party and possibly avert disaster. It had started at six, and had looked like it was shaping up to be a reasonable, civilized celebration. That had set all of Rory's alarm bells jangling. Nothing connected with Lorelai Gilmore was reasonable or civilized. When she left there had been leaves and branches and various kinds of shrubbery strewn over the living room floor, and the pony had been eating Babette's flowers. But the guests had been quiet and orderly, and Lorelai herself had been reserved and gracious. Rory had known they were hiding something from her, but hadn't had time to find out what it was.

She rounded the corner onto her street, and was met with the familiar sight of a police car parked outside her house. She sighed wearily, assuming the police had been called out to persuade her mother to turn down the music, but then she heard muffled shouting from the back of the house. They weren't actually here to arrest somebody, were they? Maybe the pony was being pulled in for wanton destruction of public property.

Rory frowned, and hurried to the source of the shouting. She groaned. Déjà vu. Well, at least her mother wouldn't have to pay bail. Two police officers were struggling with a costumed man, forcing him to the ground. His facepaint was smeared, making him look like a smushed cake. The guests were in a circle around the combatants, gaping down at them in fascination. Rory heard her mother yelling at the officers, and followed the sound until she located her.

"I can't believe you hired him again. After last time?"

"How was I to know this would happen again? This should have been like lightning. And besides, Carlos the Crazy Clown is the best entertainer ever!"

"I don't understand the attraction. Okay, if he was selling Bangles B-sides out of his trunk, it would be understandable, but animé? You hate that almost as much as you do Jerry Falwell."

"Okay, firstly, I don't hate anyone as much as I do Falwell. Well, I do, but this isn't the time. Secondly, I've come to believe that the annoying little squeaking things are part of an unfairly maligned, much misunderstood art form. Thirdly, I wanted to see Luke's reaction when the flower squirted water in his face."

Rory shook her head in resignation. "What was it this time?"

"Digimon."

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen."

"I know. Card Captors would have been so much cooler. Okay, okay, you're crushing those lilacs!" Lorelai shook her head in disgust. "The police just have no respect for other people's property these days. So how was Beelzebub's Ball?"

"Not too bad. I mean, not fun, but there were no fights, so that was a plus. Why is there a tree on our porch?"

"We were about to plant it when these guys showed up."

"Don't you think that's taking the whole "new leaf" thing just a teeny bit too far?"

"Oh I know, but I had this tree for the garden, and I needed help planting it, so... didn't you spot the crater ready and waiting for it? It looks like Mir crash-landed in our front lawn."

"I was sort of distracted. It's getting cold, want to go in?"

"Yeah, I think we've seen all there is to see here. Bye, Carlos! Let me know when you get out!"

"You're not hiring him for my next birthday party."

"But--"

"No."

"Well, see--"

"No."

"Oh, fine. I'll hire a wedding band instead. You're no fun."

"No other clowns either. No clowns, mom. Or magicians." Lorelai huffed, and tugged Rory towards the house. "Oh, look at the pony! I didn't see the hair! That's so pretty -- hey. Did you use those markers that came with that Barbie?"

"We ran out of food dye. What? They came with a remover."

+++++

It had been close to three by the time the last guest had stumbled into the night, and Rory and Lorelai were both exhausted. Lorelai had begun to interrogate Rory about the party, but gave it up because she couldn't speak through the yawns.

Rory lay in bed, gazing drowsily up at the pink and yellow fairy lights that bordered her window, and walked herself through her night.

It hadn't been so bad. She hadn't been nearly as humiliated as she had expected. Paris had been a bitch, but she had seemed pretty interested in Edward, so Rory wouldn't have expected any less. She wasn't quite sure where to place Edward, if he was a potential friend, or if he was ashamed to have been seen speaking to her now, but it had been fun while it lasted. The next two -- well, if she was going to go to those things she had to take the bad with the adequate. And then Tristan.

That had been... surprising. She hadn't really had a conversation with him since their tentative friendship had crashed and burned at the start of the summer. She had assumed he had given up, as she had, grown indifferent. She certainly hadn't expected him to approach her, and act as if nothing had changed since last year. He hadn't changed; he was as infuriating as ever. As changeable as -- more changeable than anything. More fickle than her mother. He was so sweet when he was talking about his grandfather. It had been the first time she had ever seen him show affection for anyone. Sweet Tristan had been proceeded by those remarks -- they didn't even count as innuendoes; there had been nothing implied about them. Did Sweet Tristan and Evil Tristan cancel each other out? And then there had been that kiss.

It had been -- nice. Rory was reluctant to admit it, but she recognized that self-deception only went so far. Their other kiss hadn't been so nice. Not that it had been bad, but it wasn't ideal to be kissing one boy while thinking of another. She had done that again, with Jess. She had known that she and Dean were finished, for good this time -- although his jealousy of Jess had suddenly seemed entirely reasonable when she had kissed him -- but she hadn't been able to get him out of her head. She wasn't sure why it still felt like cheating when the relationship was over, and she had no desire to restart it. Convention? She was supposed to be all broken up so she forced herself to feel it? Was that why she had gotten back with Dean the first time?

That thought troubled her mind, keeping sleep just out of reach. She didn't want to force her emotions, ignore the way she felt, and act the way she was expected to. She didn't want to throw away the freedom her mother had fought so hard to give her. This was the most basic mistake she could make, something far more fundamental than agreeing to a coming out party, or -- it was a mistake no one could afford to make, something she wouldn't do to herself. Well, it was the time of year to make changes, after all. Next year, Rory would do whatever she wanted, whatever would make her happy, and anyone who didn't like it could go to hell. Maybe she'd even be late for school. She smiled, satisfied with her resolution, and drifted off to sleep.

+++++

Rory and Lane were walking to Luke's, their breath making white clouds in the frigid air.

"So you get all Lorelai's coffee today?"

"No, I'm going to wait for a day when she wakes up before noon."

"Good plan. Hers was too."

"It was?"

"Yeah. You're afraid of so many things Rory. This is a start."

"I am not afraid of so many things."

"You are too." Lane cut Rory off before she could deny it again. "I'm not saying you're a coward, I'm just saying you try way too hard to not be afraid."

"You're upset that I'm losing the battle of who could care less?"

"That's not what I mean at all, and stop trying to change the subject just because it scares you." Lane sighed, and shook her head. "You work so hard, just to keep the status quo. It's like you're Tobey Maguire in Pleasantville."

"Oh, it is not like that."

"It is too. You're working towards an impossible ideal, towards something that isn't an ideal at all. I have to wonder, the things you do, whether you do them because you really want to, or because you're afraid to do anything else."

"Afraid of what?"

"Hmm. I don't know, afraid of your mother's rejection if she thinks you're going to make the same mistakes she made? Afraid your grandmother will start treating you like she does your mother? Afraid that Michael Myers will come and get you if you step out of line? You tell me."

"I'm not afraid. I just think that if I do the things my mom did, they'll have the same consequences. That's not fear, that's reality."

"I'm not talking about sex, Rory. Although you are, and maybe that's telling us something. God, I hope that's telling us something, my vicarious life has been boring lately. It's just that sometimes, it seems that you're frozen, paralyzed, and I wonder what you miss out on because of that." She sighed again. "I don't know what I'm talking about. Let me read a couple more Janes and I'll get back to you on it."

"Okay, I'm not going to buy those for you anymore."

+++++

The week that was left of Christmas break flew by, and Rory's head was still spinning at the end of her first week back at Chilton. The teachers had piled the homework on to punish the students for taking time off, having seemingly forgotten about the masses of homework they had assigned for the break. It was times like these Rory wished she wasn't such a good student. What was the point in spending five hours on an essay if the teacher wasn't going to grade it?

By last period on Friday, she wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed until Easter, and at that night's dinner, it was a struggle to keep her eyes open. Her mother and grandmother were bickering about something, and Rory's coffee kicked in halfway through the argument.

"…but that's beside the point, Lorelai. The point is, Rory cannot go without an escort. He's a very nice boy, we've known the family for years, and--"

"You know just what defects are lurking beneath the surface of his gene pool. I get it, mom. But Rory'll be traumatized enough without having to make nice to some stuck-up stranger all night. I mean the kids who go to these things -- sorry sweetie -- are not the sort of people--"

"You want Rory associating with. Isn't that lovely? I cannot be trusted to look after my own granddaughter. I'm forcing Rory into unsuitable company. I'm glad you value my judgement so highly, Lorelai. Perhaps for the next ball, I'll ask the Andersons' boy to be Rory's escort; he was just thrown out of rehab, you know. He's very charming though, so I'm sure you'll like him. And I don't think you could call him stuck-up, with all the time he's spent--"

"Mom, Rory--"

"No, Lorelai, I yield to your superior judgement, I'll arrange that for the next ball. But I'm afraid Rory will just have to put up with a boy who is beneath her until then. Really, Lorelai, these children are Rory's peers! Tristan goes to-"

"Tristan?"

"Yes, Rory. He goes to Chilton with you; I believe you have several classes together. You see, Lorelai, he is not a total stranger."

"No, we just wish he was. Rory's not going anywhere with Tristan, mom. I'm putting my foot down. Foot on the floor, see? Well, no, you couldn't see me uncross my legs there, because I did it under the table, but Rory is not going with Tristan. Do you know Tristan, mom? He's this bratty little kid with a sense of entitlement bigger than Julia Roberts' teeth, who... gah! He's just a snotty little brat!"

Emily's voice rose. "Lorelai, this is unacceptable! The DuGreys are our friends, and I will not have you speak of their son in this fashion! Richard, tell her."

"Hmm? Yes, dear, I'm sure whatever you think is right."

"Oh! Lorelai, Rory will attend that ball with--"

"You know what mom, why don't we just ask her?"

Two pairs of angry eyes swung around to Rory, each expecting her agreement. She glanced to her grandfather for guidance, but he was struggling with an oyster, and didn't look up. "Well, um, what does Tristan think about this?"

"He'll be delighted, dear, he--"

"He doesn't know? You can't force him to come with me."

"Oh, I'm sure he's been told by now. And he will be delighted, Rory, because I talked to him about you at my New Year's Eve party, and he agreed that you were a lovely girl. You need have no worries there."

"Um, then, okay, I guess." Rory picked nervously at her oyster, avoiding her mother's shocked gaze.

"Wonderful. I'll have him telephone you in the next few days. Now we need to discuss Rory's party, Lorelai."

"Oh, mom, haven't I suffered enough for this lifetime?"

+++++

Rory spent the first days of the next week avoiding Tristan at school, carefully planning out her routes so that they wouldn’t meet in the hallways, or slipping into the room just before the bell rang if they were in the same class. She knew she couldn’t put it off forever, and she wasn’t trying to, she was just hoping against hope that he’d phone her instead of approaching her directly. It was much easier to conceal embarrassment over the telephone. Rory felt like she had asked her grandmother to get her a date, and was sure that Tristan would act as if he thought she had.

Her hope went unfulfilled, of course. Tristan surprised her at her locker after school on Wednesday. She had stayed late to study in the library, and assumed he had gone home. She was pulling her history book from the bottom of the thick stack of textbooks when she heard his voice behind her, saying her name, and she sprang around in surprise, whacking him in the chest with the book. She stared at him in shock until she noticed the surprised expression on his face.

"Tristan. Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to... What are you still doing here?"

"I’m in Spanish club."

"Right."

There was an awkward silence. At least he had waited until after school to ask her. She had had nightmares of him stopping her in the middle of the cafeteria, smirking while he asked her, with Paris, Louise, and Madeline looking on in disdain, talking about pity dates. Well, Paris probably wouldn’t—

"So, you’re a debutante."

"Yeah. My grandmother really wanted it, and I had no reason to refuse. I didn’t want to do it, but that’s not a reason to make her unhappy, so here I am. And there I will be." She shifted uncomfortably, tucking her hair behind her ear, avoiding his eyes.

"Me too. My first is next Saturday. I’m starting really late, but my mother only decided last week that she wanted me to do this, and my grandfather arranged it all so I could."

"That was very nice of him. To please your mother like that."

"Oh, no, he just wanted to torture me."

"You find a task the sole purpose of which is to objectify women an arduous chore? Exactly what have you been banging your head against?"

"I’m serious."

"So am I."

He hesitated. "I can’t dance."

"You—" Rory tried to suppress her giggles, but the chagrin on his face was too much for her.

"That’s not funny."

"Of course not."

"So stop laughing." She didn’t. "Or not. Well, I’m glad I could brighten your day."

*

He watched her gurgling with laughter, shaking her head at him in amusement, and waited patiently until she calmed down. He wasn’t in any hurry to ask her to go to the ball with him. He wasn’t sure she would say yes, although his grandfather had seemed pretty certain. He wasn’t even sure he wanted her to say yes.

He had sworn to himself that he would leave her alone, keep his distance, for both their sakes. She didn’t want him; he had to accept that. He had spent long enough trying to change her mind about him to know that she never would. He was bothering her, and it bothered him to be close to her with no chance of closing the distance between them. So he had made himself a promise that he wouldn’t delude himself into believing that her smiles and friendliness meant she wanted something more. He had resolved to stay away from her. And now here he was. Asking her out.

She stopped laughing at him eventually, and smiled up at him repentantly. "I’m sorry, Tristan. I just assumed that, coming from the family you do, you’d have been able to dance before you could walk. I thought that as a kid you would have had dancing masters, and elocution teachers, and—"

"You think I need a speech therapist?"

"I didn’t say that. It’s not how you say things; it’s what you say. Unless you’re talking to me, then it usually is how you say things."

"On top of what I say."

"Right."

They fell silent. Might as well get it over with, no point in increasing the awkwardness by staring at her like a lovesick fool. He took a deep breath. "I was talking to my parents the other night, and they told me that you don’t have an escort. So I was wondering if you’d like to go with me, as friends. Or you could look at it like a business deal, since we aren’t actually friends."

She was shaking her head at him. His heart jumped, as his stomach sank to his knees. He ignored the stomach, praying she’d say no. He didn’t want to go through this, he didn’t. And if she said no, he might be able to sustain that lie. Or he might pick a fight with her date again. It was a toss-up.

"You don’t have to pretend you want to take me Tristan. I know your parents are forcing you to ask me. You probably had the same conversation with your mother that I had with my grandmother. The ‘good breeding, shiny eyes, glossy coat’ one? I know why you’re asking, and you know why I’m agreeing."

*

Rory watched with detached interest as his face fell. She had known he wouldn’t be ecstatic, but hadn’t imagined he’d be so disappointed. For some reason, it bothered her, and that bothered her even more.

"I’m sorry, if you had someone you wanted to take."

"Oh no, not at all," he replied, totally insincerely.

Rory frowned up at him. He looked so dejected it was almost insulting, his eyes cast down, his mouth tight. She was sure there was some other girl he wanted to take, but she hadn’t expected his reaction to be this negative. If nothing else, he could boast that he had finally gotten Rory Gilmore to go out with him. He must really be upset, and against her better judgement, she felt sorry for him.

"Hey, you want to get dance lessons together?" She wanted to take it back the second it left her mouth, but it was too late. He stared at her in surprise, probably at her presumption, and she hurried on. "There’s a dance studio near my house," oh, God, no, why was she inviting him to her town? "and I had been planning to get some lessons there before next week. You could come with me."

"I don’t think that would be a good idea."

"Why not?" Why hadn’t she taken the out? Why had she asked that question? What had she expected him to say to that? But she wanted to know the answer. He didn’t reply, so she forged onwards. "We have more than a week to practice, but Miss Patty isn’t confident she’ll train me out of tripping over my own feet in that time. Not tripping over your partner’s feet is the advanced class, so if we don’t want to make a spectacle of ourselves, this would be a good idea."

He didn’t look convinced, and she wanted him to agree, so she could stop talking, go home, and hide her head under her pillow. She added defiantly, "And my mother will ridicule and harass you, and I’ll have fun watching."

He seemed to relax, and nodded slowly. "I’ll call you tonight and find out when. See you tomorrow, Rory."

He left, and she watched the doors swing closed behind him, wondering what on earth she had just done.

+++++

Rory hung up the phone and turned back to the movie, reaching out for more popcorn.

"Who was that?" Lorelai didn't look up.

"No one."

"You say no one, I'm assuming you've just arranged to meet someone you talked to online. He's fifty, fat, balding, and drools while watching the Olsen twins. He struck your fancy because of his funky screen-name: HOTSEXXX4U. It worked so strongly on your feminine urges you decided to elope to Vegas, first stop the Motel 6 on the I98. Spill, or I'm getting rid of the internet."

"It was Tristan."

"Did he ask you to go with him?"

"Yes."

"So what was the 'I'll see you tomorrow at seven' about? Did they bump the dance up and no one told me?"

"No. It was nothing."

"Okay." They watched the movie in silence for a few minutes. "You know if you're meeting him in Stars Hollow I'll know exactly what you're doing thirty seconds after he gets here. If I'll disapprove tell me now, and maybe you'll get time off for turning state's evidence."

"There's no reason you'd disapprove."

"Which doesn't mean I won't."

"I'm taking dancing lessons with him."

"Oh, man. I'm sorry. How did Mom rope you into that one? You shouldn't let her make you do things you don't want to. That's my place. Though I suppose Patty is a fitting punishment for all those months of misery he inflicted on you."

Rory didn't correct her mother's assumption, and conversation ceased while they watched the monkeys fly.

"I'll talk to Mom about it, try and set some boundaries for this whole thing. It's getting out of hand. Before you know it, she'll hire a chaperone and insist you have cards sent in."

"I thought that too. Not about the cards, about Miss Patty. That's why I invited him."

That got her mother's attention. "You invited Tristan? To take dance lessons with you? Where you'll be dancing in each others arms for hours on end? Days on end with your two, left, banana feet. What does this boy look like, and why haven't you told me about it before now?"

"Mom, that is not why -- I just don't want to make a fool of myself."

"By telling Tristan that you think he's hot? That would be totally stupid, since you hate him so much. That's why you had to come up with an excuse to touch him. Not a bad one, if he can't dance. Awful, horrible, terrible if he can. Can he dance?"

"No, but--"

"Well, that's okay." Lorelai seemed doubtful. "Touching hot boys is fun, especially when Miss Patty is in charge of hand placement. But remember the hair."

"The hair?"

"Yeah, you remember. Lane and that boy last year? Just because a boy is scrumpalicious doesn't mean he's not a total jerk. You haven't done this yet, have you? Been hot for a boy you'd cheerfully defenestrate on a good day. You'll get over it fast. Soon enough the craving will go away, and the realisation of what an evil, smarmy, slimy, arrogant, insufferable person Tristan is will just seep right back in." She glanced sideways at Rory. "Now that I think about it, I don't think that this touching is a good thing, combined with the hating."

"Mom. God. Listen to me, because I mean this, and I'm only saying it once. I do not think Tristan is hot. I am not going to let Miss Patty put my hands on his butt. I have no desire to touch Tristan. I invited Tristan here because he's a worse dancer than I am, and I don't want to have to listen to Grandma's snipes across the dinner table. I know what Tristan's like, no seeping is necessary. Got it? Good."

Lorelai perked up, but said mournfully, "That's so sad Rory. You don't think anyone is hot. I can understand Tristan's personality blinding you to his biceps, but that Italian waiter last week--"

Rory gave it up as a lost cause, and took the phone into her room.

+++++

"So why did you invite him then, if it's not because he's hot?"

Rory glared at the telephone. "Because I felt sorry for him, for the fourth time."

"Because he was sad," Lane said thoughtfully.

"Yes. I felt sorry for him because he was sad. That's it."

"Hmm. Well I suppose it's a step up from kissing him because he's sad."

"Exactly. My heart is hardening; my kindly impulses toward my enemies are vanishing."

"An enemy. It didn't sound like that when you were talking about New Year's. I'm not sure it's ever sounded like that, actually."

"New Year's Eve was, an anomaly. Half an anomaly, because he was still a jerk that night."

"A jerk."

"Stop repeating my words!"

Lane ignored her. "You've done a lot to stop him feeling sad. Why do you do that, if he's such a jerk?"

Rory spluttered in indignation. "You're getting as bad as Lorelai. Totally ignore Paris why don't you. We all agree that she's a bitch, and I've put in far more effort with her than I have with Tristan."

"But you like Paris, Rory. The fact that she's a bitch, or the possibility that she despises you is irrelevant. You make an effort because you like the person, not because they're likeable. Oh, I have to go Rory. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

Rory pouted, listening to the dial tone. "It's not fair that she always has to go before I get to hang up on her."

+++++

Rory stumbled down the stairs, shoving her runners onto her feet on the bottom step.

"I still say there's no point rehearsing in those if you're going to be dancing in stilettos on the day."

"They are not stilettos."

"They could be."

"I don't have time to discuss this again, I'm late. I'll see you in an hour."

"Rory!"

Rory stuck her head back in the front door, annoyed. "What?"

"Why don't you bring Tristan to Luke's afterwards, he can eat with us."

"What? Why?"

"So I won't go over there with you right now and glare menacingly at him every time he gets within six feet of you."

"Why do you want him to eat with us?"

"I want him to see for himself that if I'm forced to kill him there isn't a person in this town that won't give me an alibi."

"Mom, Tristan is not going to do anything that would make you mad. Well not to me, because I won't let him. There's no reason for you to warn him off!"

"Uh huh. Be there by eight-fifteen."

"I don't want him to come."

"He probably won't want to come, but you're going to ask."

"If I ask, he'll think I want him to come. He'll think I want him to meet my mother!"

"You know, I think Dad may actually have a shotgun, for lemming hunting season or something. I'm sure he'd be willing to lend it to me. I could bring it to your next lesson."

"Fine, I'll ask, goodbye."

Rory slammed the door behind her, and took off down the street. Maybe Tristan had gotten lost, or had misplaced his smirk, and was running late. She didn't want to think about what Miss Patty would say to him if she wasn't there to run interference. She didn't want to wonder whether Miss Patty would just come on to him, or would give him advice on his love-life -- namely Rory. Yesterday, Miss Patty's imagination had seemed to be running to the latter.

She slowed to a brisk walk, trying to get her breathing under control as she passed Tristan's car and entered the building. Miss Patty had taken quite the fancy to Tristan, Rory noted with relief. She was swirling him around the room, his torso tucked between her arm and her chest, ignoring his scrambles to stay on his feet, casually thwarting his struggles to escape. Rory dropped to the floor, and watched in amusement. They were both much too engrossed in their tasks to notice her.

She was slightly nervous about asking Tristan to come to Luke's. Despite what she had claimed earlier, she wasn't afraid of what he would say about her wanting him, although she was sure that he would say it. But she could imagine all too well what Lorelai would say to him. If Luke didn't refuse to serve him first. She needed to be on good terms with him until all this was over. After that, her mother could say anything she pleased. But even as she thought that, she knew she didn't mean it. She didn't want her mother to lay into Tristan. Because whatever she said would be untrue. He wasn't evil; he was just, young. She knew something about that.

Miss Patty dipped Tristan, and spotted Rory. "There you are, we thought you'd never get here. Zack! Zack!" Tristan gazed at Rory hopefully, still bent over Miss Patty's arm. Young men's hopes never lasted long around Miss Patty. "Zack's going to be dancing with you. You can copy our steps. He's only twelve, but he's tall."

For the next forty minutes, they slid around the studio with Miss Patty shouting encouragement and imprecations at them in equal measure. Zack was patient and non-threatening, and soon set Rory at ease. She didn't trip once, and considered it a major achievement.

"All right, all right," Miss Patty finally wheezed, skidding to a stop. "Let's see how you look together."

Rory stepped towards Tristan confidently, but faltered when she saw his blank expression. It hadn't occurred to her that he wasn't enjoying himself. She hoped that he wasn't mad at her about Miss Patty. She hadn't intended this to be any more of an unpleasant experience for him than it had to be. He hadn't wanted to come at all; maybe he was bored out of his mind, and irritated with her for dragging him here.

"Come on, come on, it's almost Zack's bedtime!" Miss Patty glanced at her watch.

Rory closed the gap, putting her hands on Tristan's waist and staring straight ahead. His mouth was at her eye level, and she quickly looked down at his chest. He was wearing a blue long-sleeved t-shirt; it was soft and loose around his stomach, sliding under her hands.

"No, your hands around his neck, his around your waist. We've done this, come on!"

Rory lifted her hands and placed them carefully on his shoulders. His muscles shifted as he circled her waist and began to move, directing her about the dancefloor. She could feel the heat of his body seeping through the thin cloth, into her hands, hear Miss Patty beating out the rhythm they were moving to. He would be a good dancer, she thought. He wasn't polished, but he moved well, with a raw grace. He executed the simple steps they had learnt competently, better than she was. If he kept taking lessons--

Miss Patty echoed her thought. "You keep coming back here, hun, and soon you'll lead so well you'll make that girl look good out there. Okay, let's go, his mother's gonna kill me."

She swept them out, locked the door, exchanged hurried goodbyes, and dragged Zack off.

Rory looked up at Tristan. It was odd how the half-light made everything look deeper: his eyes, the crease of his lips. She still had to ask him. She had meant to do it earlier, but it had proved to be more difficult than she'd expected. Shivering, she wrapped her arms around herself, and opened her mouth, but he spoke before she could.

"Can I drive you home."

"Oh no, it's very close. But I'm not going there, I'm going to the diner to get something to eat. Do you want to come?" She couldn't read the expression in his eyes, but the shadows suddenly made him look stark and forbidding. He started to reply, but she cut him off. "My mom sends her apologies for not attending our first practice, and requests your presence so that she can humiliate you in a public forum." It was the truth. It had been.

"So everyone gets to poke fun at me, not just her? Sure, why not. Get in the car."

"What gave me away? My chattering teeth?"

"Your blue fingers. It's not spring in the Bahamas, Rory; get a jacket."

"I was in a hurry."

The trip was short. Lorelai hadn’t arrived when Tristan and Rory walked into Luke’s, so they slid into a booth and settled down to wait for her. Rory wished she hadn’t asked Tristan here. His nearness was causing her body to prickle uncomfortably, and she was far too aware of his movements. She wanted him to leave. Or at least move to the other side of the table.

"You have to get the coffee. It’s the greatest in the world."

"Got it. And what’s good to eat?"

"Burgers."

"What else?"

"Oh, um… I wonder if they have a menu."

"It’s fine."

"No, I’m sure they have more stuff. Hey, Jess!"

"Yeah?"

"What do you sell here?"

"For him?"

"Yeah. This is Tristan. My Grandma’s making me come out this year, and Tristan is my escort." She wasn’t sure why she felt compelled to explain Tristan’s presence to Jess. There was nothing between them, never had been. There had been potential, but it had never been realized in the aftermath of her messy break-up with Dean. "He’d like some choices. I can’t persuade him to go for the burger."

"You could."

She glanced away. "Do you have a menu?"

"I’ll get you one in a minute."

Jess drifted off and Rory turned back to Tristan. "That was Jess."

"I heard."

"He’s the owner’s nephew. Just as surly as Luke, but less abrasive. By the way, if Luke comes over, you might want to duck and cover."

"Been telling him bad things about me?"

"Mmm. He may have overheard a rant or three last year."

"Nothing irreparable, I hope."

"No. Well, let’s just deal with Jess. I’d tell you to watch out for my mother too, but there’s really no way to avoid that one." Maybe she could intercept Lorelai before she got to their table, and tell her to be nice to Tristan. No, that would just make it worse and lead to much teasing of Rory.

"Rory."

"Luke." She braced herself.

"Your mother’s on the phone."

He walked away without acknowledging Tristan.

"Well, that went well I think."

"Yeah. I’ll be back in a second."

Rory bolted to the counter, wondering what was wrong. Something had to be, for her mother to be calling her here.

"Mom?"

"Rory. I can’t make it, but everything’s fine. Well, except that you’re there with Mike Myers, but fine is a relative term."

"What’s wrong?"

"I’m in Hartford, at the hospital—"

"Mom!"

"No, really, that’s why I said ‘everything’s fine’ already. Jackson had a little accident. Sookie stayed late at the Inn, and Jackson came over, and now he’s burned somewhere you don’t want to know about. But he’ll be back at work on Monday, so everything’s really fine. I just can’t be there."

Rory was relieved, and felt guilty that it was on two counts: Jackson was fine, and her mother wasn’t coming. "Okay. Well, I’ll see you at home."

"I won’t be late. You know where the money is, right?"

"At home."

"Right. See you later."

Rory hung up, and blew out her breath in frustration. She had to be stuck with Tristan the one time she had no money to pay for her meal. She headed back to the table, smiling brightly. "I’ll be back in a minute, Tristan, I just have to run home."

"Wait, what? Is something wrong?"

"My mom can’t make it, but nothing’s wrong."

"So why are you going home?"

"When I forgot my jacket I forgot that my wallet was in my jacket. My house is right by here, I won’t be long."

"I’ll get it."

"My jacket?"

"The cheque."

"Oh, no. I’ll just go get the money."

"Want me to drive you?"

"I’ll be fine. Crime is spiraling sky-high in Stars Hollow now that Jess is here, but I think I’m safe from him."

"At least take my jacket."

Not a good idea. "You know, I think Luke will let me pay later. I’ll just go arrange that instead."

Luke was glaring over at Tristan, but he took a break to squint suspiciously at Rory. "Why did you bring him here?"

"Didn’t Mom tell you? Grandma drafted him in to take me to some fancy dance-type-things."

"She told me that. Is that what’s passing for a ball gown these days?"

"Well, we had to practice. Don’t want to look stupid. Though I think I’m fighting a losing battle against that frou-frou dress Grandma wants me to wear. Anyway, I have to deal with him, so be nice. Or at least stay away from him."

Luke grunted in assent. If only her mother was as obliging. "But that’s not what I came up here to ask you. Mom just stood me up, and I have no money, so is it all right if I pay you tomorrow?"

"Sure. I’ll be seeing Lorelai before then."

"Ask her to bring me home some coffee. Did you get those disposable cups in yet?"

"Go away before I change my mind."

Rory smiled, and went back to Tristan.

"Ah, you got a menu. Ready to order?"

"Already did. Jess knew what you’d want."

"Good. Shouldn’t be long then." Rory couldn’t think of anything to say. She could talk about why her mother wasn’t here, but if Tristan cared, he would have asked. He was gazing about the diner, studying the other patrons. He looked bored. She cleared her throat, and spoke. "So your mother roped you into this?"

"Yeah. She felt left out with all the other moms talking about what their kids were wearing, and who they were going with. She didn’t think she was participating enough. What does yours think about it?"

"Oh, she thinks it’s hilarious. Anything that's ripe for ridicule makes her happy. She was a bit worried at first because she knew I had no interest in it, but she’s relaxed about it since then. It’s my Grandma, you know?"

"Yeah, my grandfather was telling me. She wants you to do it because your mother didn’t."

"Yeah."

"She’ll be expecting a lot of you then; more than you can give. Don’t let it get to you."

Rory was pleasantly surprised, not only that he remembered what his grandfather had said, but that he seemed to understand it. It shouldn’t have surprised her; she knew that all the kids at Chilton were under enormous pressure from their parents. "It’s not a problem with Mom around. You should hear the arguments they have about it over the dinner table. Much worse than any I’ve heard before. I think it’s because Grandma knows she has no leverage. If Mom and I both say no she has no way of changing our minds."

She was talking too much, about things that were far too personal, but she couldn’t stop herself. Tristan’s arm brushed hers as he reached for his water, and she cast about frantically for a safe topic of conversation. School, Spanish club, Spanish tests, pianos, tongues. She watched Tristan’s throat work as he swallowed his water, and forced herself to remain composed, desperately trying to school her features to blankness.

Luke banged their plates onto the table, making Rory jump, and walked off without a word. Nice of him. Must have taken an effort. Glad of the silence, she relaxed while they ate. It didn’t last long.

"Maybe I’ll get to witness it on Friday."

"Friday?" She looked up at him, startled.

"You didn’t know. We’re – my parents and I, we’re coming to dinner at your grandparent’s next Friday. They thought we should all meet each other."

"They want to meet my mom, you mean. Make sure she’s mended her wicked ways, and decide if I’m a suitable friend for you." Rory had always believed that it didn’t matter what people thought of her mother; it couldn’t affect her. She was uncertain of that for the first time, and hated the feeling.

"Not at all. Although my father probably will interrogate you, don’t take it personally. My mother has actually met yours already, at some Chilton club. She just adores her, don’t you know. Did she sponsor anything?"

"Not that I know of. You're sure you're not talking about Grandma? Mom hosted a fashion show a while back."

"That was it." He gazed into his coffee cup, trailing his fingers around the rim. "You know, nobody thinks about your mother that way. I’m not saying they’re not prejudiced against her, but if they are, it’s because she doesn’t have as much money as they do, not because she’s an unmarried mother. Morality means nothing. And bloodlines overcome all defects."

The conversation had taken a serious turn, and Rory didn’t know what to do with it. She wasn’t sure what they were discussing anymore. Tristan had started trying to reassure her, but had ended sounding curiously defeated.

"Not that I’m saying your mother is immoral. I don’t think that at all. Sorry." He reached out to attract Jess’ attention. "Can I get some more coffee? You were right about this stuff."

"It is addictive, isn’t it?"

+++++

Conversation had been easy after that, casual and mellow. They had talked of school, their friends, their passions. It had been personal, but they hadn’t achieved that level of intimacy again, and she was thankful for it.

Rory had revealed more than she had intended to, and she knew that he had noticed. She was uncomfortable with his words of comfort. She didn’t need his comfort, and she wasn’t happy that he had offered it. It was vaguely offensive, as if he thought she needed to be protected from the harsh words and judgements people made about her and her mother. She had always known what people said; it had been irrelevant, because she didn’t care what those people thought. It disturbed her that Tristan could have the power to change that. And made her more than a little angry at him.

He had reacted badly to his own words, and she had been briefly and morbidly pleased that she wasn’t the only one miserable. Her kinder impulses had led her to try and figure out what was wrong so she could make it better, but she hadn’t been able to think of anything, and several hours later she wasn’t much further along. The only thing that had occurred to her was a comment Paris had once made, about Tristan not getting along with his parents. It was reassuring that she hadn’t been the only one dropping her walls.

The front door opened and closed, and Lorelai was soon peeping into Rory’s room, silhouetted by the hall light.

"Hey," she whispered, "are you awake?"

The bedclothes rustled softly as Rory turned towards her mother. "Yeah," she whispered back. They always whispered when Lorelai came into Rory’s room late at night; it made Rory feel safe, and small again, as if she could be shielded by her mother’s body. Lorelai pushed the door gently closed, shutting out the intrusive light, and curled up on the floor beside Rory’s bed.

"Sorry I’m late. Jackson insisted on drinking a medicinal bottle of vodka on the way home, so it took a while to get him there."

"It’s okay. Is he?"

"He’s fine. How was your night?"

"It was good. Tristan wasn’t mean to me." He hadn’t been; he had kept a polite distance all evening. It hadn’t surprised her that he had grown tired of her, but the sense of loss she felt had shocked her.

"I’m sorry you have to do this. Not the debutante thing, that’s fun for me, but the Tristan thing. I know you’re still trying to please Mom, and I’m sorry she’s making it so hard."

"It’s not so bad."

"You’re the sweetest kid alive. I know how you feel about Tristan, and I tried to think of some way to get you out of it."

"I have to go to all these things with him, I said I would."

"I know. But you don’t have to go to your party with him. All you need is an escort. If we had been quicker off the mark, we could have avoided this. That’s why, when I was in the diner tonight, I asked Jess to go with you."

"Jess." The Jess she had kissed, the Jess she still had mixed feelings for, was going to be taking her to the party her grandmother was throwing for her. Instead of the Tristan with the same attributes. Complicating a situation truly was one of her mother’s finest talents.

"He said yes?" Obviously, since Lorelai was telling her about it.

"Yeah. Luke says he has a tuxedo Jess can wear. Yeah, I didn’t believe it either. But Jess said he’ll rent one."

"Well. I hope I don’t have to get dance lessons with him too."

Lorelai laughed. "No. That was one of the conditions he made before agreeing to come."

"What were the others?"

"That he wouldn’t have to spend all night with your grandfather, and that no one would take any pictures. I’ll figure out a way around the last one, don’t worry."

"Thanks, Mom."

"No problem. I’ll let you get to sleep now. Night, Rory."

"Night."

Whew. Rory just kept getting more confused. A few days ago, she had been reasonably certain of herself, but now everything had changed. Jess was her friend, and she was fairly sure she wanted it to stay that way. She couldn’t deny that there was an attraction between them, but it wasn’t strong enough to risk the friendship they had been building. Tristan…

Probably wanted to go with someone else anyway. He had been forced in to escorting her, and had no interest in exceeding his duties. He had changed this year, she decided, become a nicer person. It was unfortunate that as soon as he turned into someone she liked, his liking for her seemed to vanish. He had been friendly enough, but there had been none of his usual suggestiveness, and she hadn’t been able to detect any concealed admiration. Like she would have been able to spot it, she admitted wryly, being entirely too engrossed in concealing her own.

He was hot. So what? That was no big deal. In theory, Rory could know plenty of hot, nice guys, and have no feelings for them beyond a mild attraction. Attraction was purely physical; it didn’t signify a desire for anything more. That Rory had never met anyone who provoked this strong a reaction in her was entirely due to the fact that she didn’t meet enough people. Principal Charleston and her mother were right; she needed to get out more. But if Tristan did want to go with her…she wouldn’t hesitate.

Huffing in exasperation, she turned over, and violently fluffed her pillow. Tristan didn’t want to go with her. She had to accept that.

+++++

Tristan slowed to a crawl as he approached the classroom, exhaling wearily. It was ironic that he had once looked forward to this class all morning, eagerly anticipating his first sight of Rory. He had prized the opportunity to observe her, savored the chance to study her movements, the slope of her shoulders, the shifting shades of her hair. Now the very thought exhausted him. Was that actually ironic, or Alanis-Morisette-ironic? Rory would know.

He had never known how to act around her. At first, he had found it impossible to overcome the years of conditioning that told him to treat her merely as a woman, something to be won, or bought, and possessed. Later he had found it impossible to overcome the low opinion of him she held – the opinion that his actions had given her. He hadn’t had to work to hide his changing feelings from her; he had just maintained the façade he had hidden behind for as long as he could remember.

Now he had voluntarily stripped himself of that shield, cut off his retreat. And he didn’t know how to act around her. He wasn’t going to be a jerk anymore, he had promised himself that. But what did that leave him with? He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable, displaying his desire; he didn’t want to ignore her, taking refuge in another variety of loutish behavior.

He swung into the room, making his way swiftly towards his desk. She smiled at him as he passed, and he smiled back. That was it, all he could do, take his cues from her, and hope he read her right. He hadn’t had too much luck with that in the past, but he didn’t see what other choice he had. It was times like these that he really wished that he had a girl friend.

He busied himself with his books, ignoring Paris’ pointed stare, but she wasn’t to be rebuffed.

"So, Tristan." Madeline leaned over, not wanting to miss anything. "You’re coming to that thing at the Johnson's next week. My mother’s forcing me to go. I couldn’t believe it when she told me. ‘Debutante’ is hardly something that’s going to impress Harvard; I’ll probably leave it off my transcript entirely. What a waste of time. I do get to go with Edward, though. I hear you’re going with Rory Gilmore. How did that happen?"

Was she asking how he had convinced Rory to voluntarily be seen in public with him? "Our grandparents set it up."

"Right, I know how close they are. Madeline says that Rory took her boyfriend to the last ball. Why is she taking you to this one?"

"How did you get her to ditch him for you? Or did he dump her?"

Thanks, Madeline. Tristan knew that Rory and Dean had broken up, but she was sitting right in front of him. He couldn’t answer that question as if she wasn’t here. She saved him the trouble, rounding on them.

"We broke up."

"Wow. He was hot. I’m sorry." Madeline smiled sadly at Rory, but perked back up as she asked the important question. "Do you have another boyfriend yet?"

"No."

Not yet. That would change soon, if Jess had anything to do with it. Tristan hadn’t missed the way Jess’ eyes had remained on Rory as he moved around the diner, or the way his attention had affected her.

Madeline drooped again. "I’m sorry."

"It’s not like her dog died." Everyone looked at Paris in surprise. "What? She’s not making a big deal out of it, so accept that it’s not a big deal to her, and move on. If you had been able to do that, you might have been able to get a date for the winter formal, Madeline."

Madeline ignored the pot shot. "Anyway, it’s okay, because Tristan is hotter."

"It’s all right that I broke up with my boyfriend because my replacement date is hotter? Who am I talking to, of course it is."

"You’re so lucky to be going with Tristan, all the girls in the school are jealous."

"I know."

She did? Wait, she knew what, that she was lucky, or that all the girls were jealous? That made a big difference; knowing she was envied and admitting that it was with reason were two entirely--

Just because Jess liked her didn’t mean that the feeling was reciprocated. Tristan was evidence enough of that. Maybe – But he was doing it again, jumping on non-existent evidence of her feelings for him. She did think of him as her date. That hadn’t even occurred to him. He was going on a date with Rory… Stop. Just stop.

They were talking over him, as if he wasn’t there. "I’m going with my mother’s bridge partner’s son. He’s got dandruff and tiny feet."

"I’m sorry."

"Thanks." Madeline sighed in resignation. "I have to take him, his mother’s desperate, but maybe I can pick somebody else up there. You do know how lucky you are, right?"

"Mmm." Rory faced the front of the class as the teacher entered; Tristan’s heart leapt.

That was agreement, right? She was agreeing that she was lucky to be partnered with him; saying that she wanted to be escorted by him. No, that was refining too much upon it. She didn’t want to go with him, she just… had no objection to it.

Tristan couldn’t deny the hope that was blossoming in his chest, even as he knew he would only be disappointed again. He wanted her to want him as much as he wanted her, so badly that he could taste it.

This was why he had kept away from her last semester. She had hurt him too much already, and he knew she would do it again. He couldn’t interpret the signals she was sending. He had told himself repeatedly that she just wanted to be his friend, and when he finally convinced himself to accept it, she changed the rules, made a comment that suggested otherwise. It was too confusing. He couldn’t tell if she just thought that he was a nice person, or if she wanted something more. If she did think that he was a nice person--

No. Friends. Just friends. He would act like it was what they both wanted, but he didn’t think that he would be able to persuade himself that it was true.

+++++

Rory flung her bag onto the floor and hopped onto a stool, turning to Luke. She smiled; he glared.

"You are not sitting there until Jess comes down."

"Of course not. I'll just have a muffin."

"If I tell him not to give you coffee, he won't."

"No, Luke."

"He'll listen to me."

"I know."

"Oh, just take the damn thing." He slapped a cup down in front of her. "At least your mother can't do that."

"I can't do what?" Lorelai bounced up to Rory, who rolled her eyes, and retired to a table in the furthest corner.

Her cup was half full when Jess joined her.

"Hey."

"Hi, Jess."

"I'm going to this dance thing with you."

"Mom told me."

"I don't dance."

"But you will."

"No, I won't. I'm not taking lessons."

"I mean, on the night you'll get up and dance with me."

"Mmm. Maybe lessons wouldn't be such a bad idea. We should go somewhere besides Miss Patty's though."

"Sorry, don't have time. I'm not giving up movie night. You could still get them."

"Why did Lorelai ask me to go with you?"

"She likes you."

"She doesn't like Tristan?"

"Hasn't Luke told you about him yet?"

"Well, Luke's told me a lot of things. I take it they were true this time. He hasn't reformed?"

Rory hesitated. "Sort of," she replied cautiously, hoping Jess would move on; he just raised his eyebrows. "It's not like he's converted to Catholicism."

"He's just not such a mean bastard anymore." He took her silence for assent. "Everything your mother hates."

"I just said he wasn't so bad anymore."

"Think that'll matter to her?"

"Yes. She is not one `ist,' Jess. She's not racist or sexist or... well, feminist -- so not all `ists' are bad. That's not the point. She wouldn't make a judgement like that. She's letting me do all kinds of things, like go to the country club--"

"She's not comfortable with it though. She's trying not to alienate you from your grandparents, but she doesn't want you entering that world."

"I'm not."

"She obviously sees no redeeming value in it whatsoever. To leave it so completely. She wasn't thrown out, she chose to leave. Time has proved that she made the right decision, but to make that choice at the time--" Jess shook his head. "She must have had some compelling reasons. She must really hate that place, to have left, and stayed away when her parents offered their help. She needed that help so badly. How do you think she'd feel about you running right back?"

"I'm not." It sounded stronger this time, but it didn't feel it.

Lorelai began the trek to the table, triumphantly brandishing her mug; Jess stood, smiling at her.

"I better get to work. What colour is your dress for this shindig?"

"By no means is it a shindig. Why?"

"For the corsage."

It wasn't prom; Rory didn't want a corsage. Rory didn't even want a corsage for prom. "White."

"And what colour goes with that?"

+++++

Lorelai plopped into the chair across from Rory and stared at Jess' retreating back.

"What did he want?"

"To ask me to tell you that his friend likes you."

Lorelai batted this away impatiently. "No, really."

"Just to reiterate the rules for Grandma's party. Nothing interesting."

Rory slugged her coffee; it was tepid. "What took you so long with Luke?"

"I have a date for your party too." Lorelai buried her head in her cup, but Rory was still staring at her when she emerged. "I needed one."

Rory shrugged. "As long as you mean it."

"What?"

"I know I have no right to get involved in your, ah, dating. But it still affects me. If you do start dating Luke, it will affect me. Good luck. As long as you mean it."

"I wouldn't be doing it for the free coffee. But, I'm not, doing it."

"Okay."

"Changing the subject, back to you. Jess?"

Rory forced herself to drink more of the cold coffee, ignoring the bitter sediment, wondering if her mouth looked as pinched as it felt. She wasn't sure what to tell her mother. She thought she knew what the truth was now, but she wasn't sure what Lorelai wanted it to be. She lowered the cup. "What about him?"

Lorelai rolled her eyes. "You know..." Rory didn't reply, so she prodded some more. "You want to go with him, right?"

Rory shrugged. "He's my friend."

"Yeah. The same way Luke is my friend."

"No."

"No?"

"Not the same way Luke is your friend. We're just friends, Jess and I. I'm not sure that he knows that."

Lorelai closed her mouth. "Well, I totally thought you wanted him. Sorry about that."

"No, you were right. I did."

"And now you don't?"

"It's not that I don't--he's very attractive."

"It's just..." Lorelai propped her head on her hands and blinked at Rory expectantly.

"It's just that--" Rory still wasn't sure what to tell her mother. Wasn't sure if what Jess had claimed earlier was untrue. Wasn't ready to find out. Tristan wasn't worth it, yet.

"It's just that it's not enough. He's cute--"

"And sexy as hell."

"--and that--but--that's it. It's just that, and it's not enough." Rory glanced around the diner to see who was listening, and leaned into her mother, whispering, and blushing slightly. "He's sexy because he has all the attributes of sexiness, not because I can't stop imagining his hands on my body. Does that make sense?"

Lorelai smiled reminiscently. "Of course it does. Genuine attraction is an elusive thing. How do you know that it's not the real thing?"

"Besides, that's all it is, the sexy thing. He's nice, but I couldn't see myself studying with him or anything. Want some more coffee?"

Lorelai let it slide. "Go ask Jess. I don't know what we're gonna do when you tell him. And you complain about me. Huh."

+++++

Rory stared critically at herself in the mirror, smoothing her skirt over her hips. She knew she was taking more care with her appearance than was usual, but was unsure if it was for Tristan's sake, or his parents'.

She didn't think they would take enough of a dislike to her to refuse to allow Tristan to escort her at this late stage, but she was still nervous about meeting them. What if they did hate her? What if Lorelai hated Tristan?

Sighing gloomily, she pulled on another top, but immediately wrenched it off in disgust. She burrowed into the pile of discarded clothes on the floor, searching for her original selection.

Rory was actually excited about the next day; she just had to get past this hurdle. She wished the dinner were taking place next week, not while she and Tristan were still untried. If they had already been successful -- if Rory hadn't tripped over Tristan's feet, if he hadn't started macking on some random debutante in the middle of the dance floor -- everyone would be far more relaxed, Rory included.

But nothing could lessen her enthusiasm. They had been practicing with Miss Patty all week, Rory secretly taking extra lessons in an attempt not to fall shamefully behind Tristan, and she was cautiously optimistic about her chances of not humiliating them both. Her grandmother would be delighted. Tristan would too; he had shown a tendency to tease, but had encouraged her to do all she could, and would be pleased it was so much.

She was nervous about seeing Tristan tonight. She hadn't seen much of him outside of the dance lessons, preferring to delay dealing with her developing emotions. Every time she saw him, she felt more, and she didn't know what to do with that. She couldn't ignore it forever, but she would try to postpone it until all this was over. She wasn't sure what she wanted from Tristan yet, and she had no clue what he wanted from her. If she knew that, his would all be a lot easier. He hadn't given any indication of wanting -- anything -- from her. If he had-- But he hadn't. So, she would wait, avoiding the awkwardness that would ensue if she were to speak now, and try to decide what she would say when the time came.

She was late. She tugged the lilac top free of the tangled ball of clothing, and ran down the stairs, pulling it over her head, attempting to shove her arms through the right holes.

"Mom?"

"Are you ready? Oh, here." Lorelai dragged the top down until Rory's head popped out, plucking at the cloth until it settled into place. "You're done, let's go!"

Watching the trees speed by, Rory concentrated on calming herself. She was going, she was on her way, there was nothing she could do now. She just had to be polite, and not spill anything, and everything would be fine.

She caught Lorelai glancing at her curiously, and turned to her in annoyance. "What?"

"You're very quiet."

Damn. "So are you. No complaints tonight?"

"I had a good day. Michel called in sick. All the extra work was worth the break."

Rory knew that she shouldn't ask, and she already knew what the answer would be, but she couldn't help it. "Not trying to get out of the dinner? I'm pretty sure Grandma wouldn't hunt you down and drag you there by your hair while the guests looked on."

"Dinner theatre is only for family parties. It's not worth the hassle. Besides, I want to see this kid. I'm curious."

"Why? I told you what he's like." Why wasn't she taking the opportunity to say good things about Tristan, to try to change her mother's opinion of him?

"I know. But I still wanna see." They pulled into the driveway. Lorelai gazed at the house gloomily. "Maybe it is worth the hassle..." Rory briefly hoped that Lorelai would turn the car around, and save her from this. It would be all right, if she could blame it on her mother. Lorelai pulled the keys from the ignition, leaning over to open Rory's door. "Come on, inside."

+++++

Tristan squeezed the toothpaste out of the bottom of the tube, swishing his brush under the running water.

The dinner had gone well, he thought. His father hadn't been nearly as offensive as he could have been, restrained by Richard Gilmore's presence. Inexplicably, he wouldn't insult children to their parents' faces. He had no problem trashing parents to their children. Parents were the ones who should have to deal with that stuff, not children. Still, Tristan didn't think that his father would have found anything to fault in Lorelai, even if he had had a free hand. Nor Rory, that went without saying.

His mother had been perfect, as usual. Charming, gracious, sweet. Rory had taken her fancy, and he believed the reverse was true.

He hadn't been able to tell what Lorelai's opinion of them was. She had covered all her thoughts with a coat of mildly disdainful humor just thick enough that he couldn't see what lay beneath it. Rory had seemed pleased, at least.

Rory. She had been beautiful. She had looked just as she always did, but she had held herself differently, with confident elegance. There had been one moment -- one moment when she had faltered.

Mr. Gilmore wasn't a fan of his wife's new hobby, or the time it consumed. He had made some scathing remarks that had rolled right off her back and onto Rory's. She had shrugged them off, but Tristan could tell she had been upset. She hadn't let it affect her.

After dinner, they were ordered to entertain each other. Her room had been a revelation. It suited her in an odd sort of way; her grandmother had decorated it, so that made sense. Not a bad approximation of her personality, and a nice thought. There had been books, and posters, and a couple of CDs that Rory actually listened to.

She had wandered about, shyly pointing things out to him while he sat on her bed, watching her. Her skirt was loose, but its constant swaying had worked up static, and it was clinging to her. Her perfume tickled his nose, and he wondered what she would smell like without it.

Eventually she had bounced down on the bed, swinging her bare feet, licking her lips nervously. Her nails and toenails had been painted purple to match her clothes. She had pulled her hair from behind her ear, hiding her eyes from him, but he had still been able to see her wet mouth, moving, forming and discarding words.

Scenes had flashed behind his eyes in rapid succession, too real for comfort. Stopping her mouth with his; tracing her curves, teasing her, her body arching under his hands; sliding her top up over her breasts, pulling her bra cups down; shoving her skirt up over her hips; tugging at--

He had jumped off the bed, made noises about getting back down, and fairly bolted from the room. He hadn't been able to handle it, had been afraid of what he would try to do.

He couldn't do this to her. And he wouldn't do it to himself. It wasn't worth it, and it wasn't fair. He had been playing nice, and she was happy with that. He wouldn't try for anything more. It wasn't his fault he couldn't stop imagining it, but he could control his actions.

He dropped the toothbrush back into the cup, and left the room, slamming the door on his thoughts.

+++++

Rory glanced around the room again, searching for Lorelai. Emily and Mrs. DuGrey had carried her off some time ago to introduce her to someone or other, and she hated them all for staying away so long. If they were here, her grandfather wouldn't be saying these things. At least not to her.

He ignored her half-hearted attempt to end his tirade, raising his voice to drown her out. "It's not as if I have no life outside of you, Rory. Who knows what claims are being filed right now? Well, I do: bogus ones! And because I'm not there they're all going to be paid, all of them. These young whippersnappers don't know what they're doing, never mind how to do it. But that doesn't matter to any of you; you don't hesitate to drag me away from my work, to some social function that I'd hate even if I had the time for it. I didn't expect you to want this Rory, I thought you had a modicum of taste."

"Grandma wanted-- "

"What about what I want?"

Rory shook her head helplessly, not knowing what to say. Richard snorted in disgust and excused himself, disappearing into the crowd.

There was silence for a few seconds before Tristan blew his breath out in astonishment.

"Whew. That was, um--"

"Unusual."

"I'm sure. Is he all right? He looked like he was about to have a heart attack."

"He's fine." She paused for a minute, glaring about, before bursting out with defenses. "It's not like I asked him to come. It's not like I was all, `Hey Grandpa, your ass isn't at my dances and I'm naming my first-born Mao and becoming a Scientologist! So there!' It's not my fault." She hated how needy she sounded.

Tristan attempted to soothe her. "There's no fault to be yours. I don't know why he's acting like this today, but it'll pass. He's just irritated."

He wasn't helping. "Want to dance?"

"Sure."

He led the way to the floor, and they began carefully navigating a path around the other couples. Initially, Rory had been intimidated by Tristan; he had seemed like a stranger, stiff and distant. Taller. She was more relaxed now, or she had been. She willed the tension to leave her body, moving closer to him.

It was an effort to keep an acceptable distance between them. She wanted to erase the remnants of her earlier fear, slip her arms under his jacket, and hug herself to him. She needed to reassure herself that he would accept that, that he wouldn't reject an attempt on her part to become closer to him.

Rory's confidence had diminished as time had passed. She had always known that Tristan wanted her, she had just been unwilling to acknowledge it. Now that she wished to -- explore possibilities -- Tristan's desire for her seemed to have vanished. It wasn't that he had indicated a distaste for her company; he hadn't indicated anything. How was she supposed to tell him what she wanted -- tell him that she wanted him -- when there was a possibility that he'd shoot her down? She wasn't imagining things; he had been distant lately. He had shown more reserve in the last week than he had in the year she had known him, and it was scaring her.

Maybe it wasn't worth the risk; maybe she should just forget the whole crazy thing. She shrugged her shoulders in discomfort, the painful tightness limiting the movement. His voice startled her, and she looked up, stepping back quickly. She was too close to him. She couldn't let her attention drift like that.

"Don't let it get to you. I know you're upset that he's angry, but it's not your fault. It's not your responsibility to make him happy."

It took a second for her to realize what he was talking about. "I know."

"Do you think I don't know that you're lying?"

He seemed interested, so she answered. "Yes. I did."

"Well, discard that charming notion and move on. Do you even know why you feel guilty? How could you possibly be letting him down?"

"By forcing him to come here. Or at least creating a set of circumstances that forced him to attend."

"Nobody forced him to come. Well, maybe your grandmother did, but that's nothing to do with you. He could have stayed home if he had wanted to."

"But that would have upset Grandma. If I hadn't done this, he wouldn't have been put into that position."

"If you hadn't done this, you would have upset your grandmother instead of your grandfather. There's no way everybody is getting what they want in this situation, and your grandfather should know that, and not expect you to provide the impossible. He's being selfish, and taking out his frustrations on you instead of discussing them with his wife." Tristan didn't let her interrupt, talking over her objection. "But what your grandfather is doing isn't important. The point is, you can't please everyone, and you shouldn't try. You'll just upset yourself." His hands slid up her back to her shoulder blades, rubbing them lightly. Her body was suddenly loose, swaying against him. "You should get a massage tomorrow. You've earned it." The conversation wandered to less serious matters: dancing, and dresses, and relaxation.

These moments were the problem. When Tristan wasn't being distant and reserved, he was being charming, and expansive, and endearing as hell. These flashes drew Rory in against her will, convincing her that she had to do something about this. This was intolerable; he was intolerable. He shouldn't be making her feel like this, she shouldn't be letting him. But he was, and she had to do something about it.

She only had two choices: she could start avoiding him, or she could tell him how she felt. The first wasn't an enticing option. She had to tell him. Of course, it was perfectly possible that after she did, he would be the one avoiding her.

+++++

Rory retrieved the phone from the back of her closet, and jabbed anxiously at the button. "Hello?"

"Want to take a minute to catch your breath?"

"No. You talk," Rory wheezed.

"Okay. So I'm going out with Henry this weekend. Or I will be, if you do me a massive favor. Although not really massive..."

"What?"

"Come with me."

"Wha-- This is a favor how?"

"Well, it would make my date a whole lot more fun. I was supposed to be meeting this girl I know from Bible Camp, but she had to cancel, and my mom doesn't know."

"What an oversight."

"Once in a lifetime opportunity, so I arranged to meet Henry instead. The problem is, he already had plans, and he doesn't want to blow the guy off entirely, so if you could come along, make it sort of a double date?"

"Well--"

"Henry was going to call you, but I figured I could pull off the guilt-trip better."

"Doesn't the fact that you've just told me what you're going to do reduce its effectiveness?"

"Not at all; you're a sucker."

"Thanks, Lane." Rory shook her head, bewildered. "Sure, I guess." She ignored Lane's high-pitched squeals. "Do I know him?"

The commotion ceased. "Yeah. That's why it's not such a big thing to do. It's Tristan."

"Tristan."

"You like Tristan."

"That I do. I'll talk to you later Lane." Rory hung up the phone, heedless of Lane's squawk of protest, and dropped onto her bed. She stared blindly at the wall, not thinking at all.

+++++

Rory shifted in her seat, trying to concentrate on the movie. The time-line was confusing her. It shouldn't have been, but she hadn't seen more than five minutes at a time. She wished she was sitting on the other side of Lane and Henry. This movie was supposed to be good, and it wasn't fair that she was missing it. It was all his fault.

Tristan was slouched beside her, the flickering light from the screen sending his features into sharp relief, making him look slightly ghoulish. The film had him enraptured, his eyes darting to follow the action, his lips parted. She studied him cautiously, on guard for any lapse in his attention that would alert him to her regard.

His face was usually expressive of his personality, displaying the stubbornness and confidence that was habitual to him; now, relaxed and off-guard, he looked years younger, like the child he was close to being. Softer. She wanted to reach out and touch him, find out if he felt as soft as he looked in that moment.

She really should be paying attention to the film, it wasn't something she could turn her brain off for. She glanced back at the screen impatiently, trying to figure out what was happening, to ignore his arm resting next to hers.

Maybe she didn't have to change seats; maybe she'd be all right if he'd just stop hogging the armrest.

The credits rolled before she could catch up on the plot, and she turned to him in relief. "Well that was fun. Ready to go?"

He stretched lazily, and her eyes slid over his body rapidly, before they returned to his face. He hadn't noticed. "Yeah, I'm ready." Standing up, he turned towards Lane and Henry. "Hey, are you guys... Obviously they're not."

Rory leaned forward to see what he meant, but quickly averted her eyes. "Maybe we should give them a minute."

Tristan agreed, moving down the aisle. "They can find us in the lobby."

They stood propped against a wall in silence, Tristan staring off into the distance blankly, Rory watching the people in line for the refreshment stand. Mostly teenagers; couples on dates, groups of younger girls. A few parents with their children. A few people she recognized from Chilton.

Getting out of the chair was supposed to have improved matters, but they were closer now, jostled together. The lobby was full to overflowing, and she couldn't move away. It wouldn't have been so bad if Lane hadn't pitched this as a date. Rory couldn't help making comparisons to the couples she saw milling around, couldn't help wondering if Tristan had been told the same thing.

God, why hadn't Lane and Henry been rousted out by the usher yet?

Speak of the devil. Lane motored towards Rory, dragging Henry in her wake. She was flushed, and grinning, but made no reference to the cause. "Hey guys. You ready to go?"

Tristan grinned at her. "Yeah, just about."

The cause spoke. "Hey, you mind giving Rory a ride home? I want to take Lane to meet my sister."

Even Rory knew that Henry didn't have a sister.

+++++

The car rolled to a stop in front of Rory's house. The lights were on, but nobody was home; her mother was out on a date too. Not that Rory was on a date. She knew that this wasn't a date.

It did feel like one. There had been polite chit-chat, staring, couple-dom, and all the awkwardness that traditionally accompanied first dates. And now this. Goodnight. Did she want a kiss?

She was leaning against the door, facing Tristan. She could sit up, lean over, and kiss him. Simple, easy. She could part his lips with hers and find her answer. She could reach out and touch him, slide her hands up under his shirt, over his warm stomach. She could pull him down to her, on top of her, and trail her fingers downwards. Her mother wouldn't be home for hours; she could invite him in and--

She straightened hurriedly, smiling tightly at him in the darkness of the car. "This was fun. We should do it again some time. With Lane and Henry maybe, although probably not, to celebrate our survival of the season. Or maybe there'll be a party, in Luke's, with everyone there, all the town, although probably not my grandparents, and you could come to that, or-- "

He interrupted her babbling. "Sounds like a good time."

"If it happens, it will be. Would you like to come in?"

The silence stretched. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Your mother would probably have me stuffed and mounted."

"Right." Taking advantage of her momentary lack of something to say, she hauled herself out of the car. "Well, I'll see you in school on Monday."

"Tomorrow."

Miss Patty. Right. Dancing. "Tomorrow."

Spinning around, she sprinted to the house, fumbling with her keys, finally managing to fall inside and get the door safely closed. After a moment's debate with herself, she peered cautiously out of the side window for a last glance of Tristan. The street was empty.

+++++

Rory stood with her back pressed to the door, hunched towards her grandfather. She was hissing, trying to keep the argument a secret from the two women sitting at the table in the next room. She knew they were both gawking at the closed door; her mother probably had her ear to the keyhole.

"I don't care." Reason had flown out the window five insults ago; she was hoping to win because of superior sulking skills. "I'm not doing it for your benefit, I'm doing it for Grandma's."

"Everything you do for your grandmother. She says, `Rory, you have to do this thing that you'll hate, that everyone will hate,' and you say, `Of course, Emily, I'd love to.' You never do anything for me! Why won't you do what I want you to?"

"Oh, do you even hear yourself? Why won't I obey your commands? I have to choose between you and Grandma, and she got in first, I'm sorry. Next time, put your instructions in writing, a month in advance."

"Is that what I need to do to get some input around here? Because I'll do it! I will write down everything that I want you to do until you graduate college, right now! Hah! Beat that, Emily!"

"Keep your voice down! God, Grandpa-- "

"Do not `God, Grandpa!' me!"

"I'll whatever I want you!"

"Young lady, you will-- "

"Will not!"

"Will!"

"Not!"

Richard clutched his head. "This is insupportable!"

"This is unbelievable. I can't believe you."

"You--"

Emily's cool, authoritative tones floated through the heavy door, silencing the combatants. "Richard. Rory. Come and help me with Lorelai. She's trying to make jewelery out of the shellfish. I don't know what to do with her."

They obediently returned to the table, and smarmed at each other for the remainder of the evening.

+++++

The Jeep swerved onto the opposite side of the road as Lorelai turned to stare at Rory in fascination.

"Eyes on the road. On the road. Car, car!"

Lorelai wrenched at the wheel, taking them out of the path of danger. "I can't help it. It's just so... You're me. And Dad is Mom. It's incredible."

"It's not incredible; it's a fight. It's not all that uncommon, especially in this family."

"I know you're right, but I can't believe it. Because it's you! And Dad! But mostly you. You never fight with anyone, except me when I've eaten the last Pop-Tart, and Dad loves you!"

"I love him."

"So what were you fighting about?"

"He's annoyed that this debutante thing is taking up so much of his time, and he wants me to stop it."

"Oh. Well you can't do that."

"That's what I told him."

"Totally his fault. Just ignore it, it'll go away. Or you could follow my shining example, and give him the silent treatment for sixteen years."

"I think I'll go with Door Number One. He'll come to his senses soon. He'll have to, in two weeks this is all over."

"One, technically."

"Besides, his complaints aren't completely unfounded."

"You're a better woman than I."

"I don't want to talk about it anymore."

"Fine. Let's talk about Tristan."

"On the other hand, he is utterly in the wrong!"

"Not distracting me. What's with the tension?"

"What tension? There's no tension."

"You could cut it with a butter knife, Rory. Or you'd need a steak knife? I don't know. Anyway, it's there, and it's thick. Why?"

"You're imagining things."

"He likes you. I always knew he did."

"No." Had that sounded forlorn?

"Oh my God. You like him." Damn.

"Road! Eyes on the road!" Lorelai bit her lip, and concentrated on not getting them killed. Rory counted the lights as they flashed by. "I like him. So what? He doesn't like me." He had been avoiding her, rejecting her, ever since she had started making offers.

"Good."

"Mom."

"I don't think he'd be good for you. I think this would be a bad idea for a relationship. Of course Tristan would be a prime choice for less than a relationship--"

"Mom. This isn't about sex."

"Well then it shouldn't be about anything."

"Well it is about something."

"Well then I'm glad he doesn't like you."

"He used to, though. I don't know for sure that he doesn't still. I just haven't seen it lately."

"I really think this is a bad idea." Rory was in complete agreement.

"I'm not going to get pregnant."

"I thought that too."

"You just suggested that I--"

"Honestly, I'd prefer you get it out of your system than start a relationship. It's too messy. There's school, and your grandparents…" And your mother.

"It's not about sex, mom." It wasn't. She wasn't entirely clear what it was about. She just wanted to go out on a date, or twelve, and take it from there.

"Isn't it? I don't think you're experienced enough to know that." Rory hesitated, not convinced that her mother was wrong, then shrugged it off.

"Honestly. What do you think would happen to me?"

"I think you'd get hurt. I think bad things would happen. It would just be bad."

Quite possibly. "It wouldn't. I know he's not perfect, but I'm seventeen. I'm not talking about an engagement ring."

"Well he won't be."

"Good. I'm too young to get serious."

"Rory, stop it. Stop this."

"Doing things you don't want me to?"

"This wouldn't be good for you. You don't know what you're doing. I've been there, you haven't, and you don't have a clue what you're getting yourself into."

"I'm not you."

Lorelai pulled into the driveway, but made no move to leave the Jeep, staring at her daughter's reflection in the windshield. "Don't do it." Rory turned her head to the side, pressing her lips together, ignoring her mother. "And don't get pregnant."

"He has enough money to pay for an abortion." Shouldn't have said that. She could feel the betrayal choking her, could feel the heat of Lorelai's anger.

"Don't even joke about it. I'll fit you with a chastity belt."

"I won't get pregnant. He doesn't even like me."

"God, I hope not. Don't do it, Rory. Please don't."

Rory didn't know what to say, didn't know how to deny Lorelai. She huddled in the corner, hiding from the silence, until her mother went into the house and left her alone.

+++++

Rory paused, casting about in her mind for something to say. The purpose of the call was fulfilled, but she didn't want to hang up. She wouldn't see him until her party the next weekend, the night she had promised herself she would confront him. She didn't want to do that. She wanted him to take the damn hint -- one of the score she had thrown him since their date -- so she could stop squirming in embarrassment. She had to say something.

"Want to do something next Friday?" Oh, dear God, why had she said that? How could she be more obvious? Confront him? Tell him how she felt? She had done it twenty times already. And she would do it twenty more, she admitted reluctantly. Which was why she needed him to tell her to back off. So far, he had ignored any suggestion she had made, so she wasn't sure if he knew she was making them. Maybe he wasn't making excuses; maybe he really had been preternaturally busy lately. It wasn't outside the realm of possibility. But surely, if he had any interest in her whatsoever, he would have accepted one of her invitations, or countered with one of his own. Maybe this time.

*

"I'm sorry, I'm busy. I have to go to this thing with my parents. What are you doing?" Friendly, she was just being friendly. He had had to remind himself of that a lot more often lately. She was so infuriatingly ambiguous. He had to remind himself that he was reading things into her words, her looks, that she had no intention of projecting. The nervous glances she threw him, her uncertainty, were because he was the first male friend she had ever had, not because she was hiding anything--or suggesting anything, despite his fantasies.

"I don't know yet. I just thought you might like to do something."

Or maybe she was. "Oh. Oh. Well, I would, but I can't. I'm sorry."

"No problem. I'll see you Saturday anyway, right?"

"Right." She wanted to go out with him. Maybe not in exactly the way he wanted, but still... "Hey, you want to go together?" Say yes, say yes.

"What?"

"To your grandmother's. You need an escort?" Please.

"Oh. I have one. That'd be really nice, but, I already agreed to go with, um--my mom's boyfriend's nephew. I'm really sorry." A family thing, he understood that, although--

"I didn't think Lorelai had a boyfriend."

"Well, date."

"Who?"

"Luke."

"From the diner. Jess. You're going with Jess." He swallowed, desperately trying to quell the bile rising in his throat. This was why hope was an evil, wicked thing.

"Yeah."

"Well, I'm sure I'll see you there. I have to go."

"Wai--"

He replaced the handset, ignoring her spluttering protests.

+++++

His routes to class became labyrinthine; he was so used to hovering around her that it took an effort to prevent his feet from wandering in her direction.

He considered not showing at her party, but he would have had to explain it to his parents, and couldn't think of a valid excuse. He needed a date, couldn't watch her with Jess alone, but none of the fluttering girls hoping for an invitation took his fancy. He knew that he had to move on, and asked Louise, pleased by her cool acceptance.

He strolled around in a daze, Louise by his side, prodding him along. He drifted across the grass, making his way to the building.

She was sitting on a bench, her hair floating in the wind, her head bent over a sandwich. She was chewing on her lip, tearing at the bread. Louise was two steps behind him.

+++++

She had taken her lunch to the courtyard, drawn her blazer closed against the chilly breeze. The trees were still bare, but there was a new crispness in the air, indicating change just around the corner.

There was a doubt at the back of her mind. While it was possible he was jealous, she might not be seeing him around because he had previously taken the trouble to seek her out, and didn't care enough to do that anymore. If she discovered where he was now, maybe she would find him surrounded by his usual followers, happily plucking a random girl from the masses for an hour, two if she was lucky. He might not be thinking of her at all. But, maybe he was.

It was stupid to sit agonizing over him. He had never spent this long analyzing their relationship in his life. His relationship with any girl. She was even allowing him to distract her from her food.

Sliding forward to return indoors, she froze. He hadn't seen her. He was looking back over his shoulder, laughing, the wind in his hair. Louise ran up, ducking under his arm, pushing him towards the doors. He was touching her waist, smiling down at her.

Maybe she'd just stay right here.

+++++

Rory shuffled impatiently away from Jess. She wasn't sure if he was a really bad dancer, or if he was just trying to cop a feel; either way, she felt like smacking him one.

Tristan hadn't come. He should have been here an hour ago, but he hadn't shown up yet. She had resorted to asking the staff to let her know when he arrived. If he wasn't somewhere else, doing -- funner things with Louise.

She fell forward onto Jess again, and hauled herself off his chest, grimacing at him, hoping it looked enough like a smile to satisfy him. It seemed to.

"So. You survived."

"Oh, yeah." Her eyes swept the room again. Even if Tristan didn't come, if Louise did, that would be something. Jess was talking. "Hmm?"

"Ohh..." He trailed off, frowning down at her. "It doesn't matter, it wasn't important. Are you having a good time?"

"Well, as good as can be expected."

"Because you don't like anyone here."

"No. Except Paris, sometimes. And I'm not sure if Madeline is here."

"You don't like anyone else who would come."

This time, she could tell he was pulling her close on purpose. "Well, no."

"You're a terrible liar." Closer.

She pulled away again. "Jess-- Please."

"You don't want me to do that. Right." His grip was hurting her, but she didn't know what to say to him. He was her friend; she didn't want to push him away. He clutched her, groping for words. "Why not?"

"I just--I just don't."

"I thought you did."

"Things change. Hey, soon enough you'll probably be my step-cousin."

"But that's not a--" His eagerness faded. "That's not the reason why."

"No."

"That's the reason why."

"What?"

He nodded over her shoulder. "There."

She spun around, hardly aware of the painful pressure of Jess' fingers. Tristan was standing in the doorway, conversing with some old man, alone. She turned back around. "Jess--"

He released her. "I'll be by the punch-bowl. If things don't work out."

He strode away; she looked after him for a second, before her eyes returned anxiously to Tristan. He was in the same position, but with her grandmother now. Steeling herself, she moved determinedly towards them.

"Hey, Grandma."

"Rory! Why aren't you mingling? All your friends are here. Enjoy yourself, dear, you deserve it. Here's Tristan. Tristan, don't let her hide in a corner, will you? I have to..." She bustled away to greet a new arrival.

Rory twisted her lips into a smile; Tristan nodded coolly. "Hey, you made it."

"Sorry I'm late."

"Where's Louise?"

"Somewhere around. Why?"

"Oh, I was just... Can we talk?"

"Aren't we?"

She rolled her eyes, grabbing his sleeve, and dragging him into the hall. The chatter of the crowd was still audible, so she made for the passage that led to the kitchen. None of the guests would use that.

"Care to tell me what you're doing?"

"I just thought--okay. You're going out with Louise?"

"In the way that that term is generally applied to me, yes." He raised an eyebrow at her.

"Oh. Oh, because I thought, um--" If she had known it would be this difficult she would have stayed with Jess. "Well. I thought maybe you could not."

"Not the right type of girl? Neither is Paris. I suppose Madeline might be a nice medium between the two, but I don't think I could bring myself to--"

"That's not what I mean."

"No?" She had his attention now.

"No."

"What do you--" A waitress hurried past them. Tristan cursed, dragging Rory to the nearest door. It was a cloakroom; he pushed her into the furthest corner, shielded by the racks of thick, soft coats. "What do you mean, Rory?"

Nothing. "Well, I wasn't going to suggest someone else for you to date. Well I sort of was, but--"

"But?"

"But not in the way you think." She looked at him expectantly, but he just stared back at her. "All right. I wasn't going to suggest you date anyone else."

"But you just said-- Oh, for God's sake, Rory, just spit it out!"

"Iwasgoingtosaythatmaybewecoulddosomethingsometime."

"Okay. Good. You've said it. Now, come again?"

"You know, if you and Louise aren't serious, maybe we could grab a burger some time." The silence thickened until she twitched under its weight. "Okay, I have to get back--" His hand flew to her arm as she attempted to push past him.

"No, wait. Even if Louise and I were, ah, serious, we could still do that. Because we're just friends."

"Well, that's the thing. I was thinking maybe we couldn't be friends."

"You don't want to be my friend."

"No. Yes. Wait, I mean, just friends. I think you'd be a nice friend, and if you say no, I'd still like to be friends with you, even though you'll probably never see me again, because I'll have transferred to Alaska. Or maybe Serbia."

"Wait, stop. Oh, God." He took a step backwards, stumbling into a metal coat rack; lost for words, she followed.

Hooking an arm around his neck, she pulled herself up, finding his lips with hers. She moved against him softly, trying to coax a response from him. After a few seconds that stretched endlessly, as he remained motionless, she admitted defeat, backing away.

Fur brushed her cheek; his tongue stroked hers. She clutched at his chest, both of them struggling to stay upright. Coats knocked off-balance by his impulsive rush forward tumbled to the floor, and they gave up the fight, sinking down on top of the sliding heap. She was on her back, slipping about on the shifting pile of cloth; he was attacking her mouth, cheeks, throat. She held him off to catch her breath.

"So is that a yes?"

"Mmm." His weight bore her down, his lips travelling slowly to her ear. "You know, I really don't like burgers."

"Well, you can choose."

"Starbucks?"

"No!"

His breath puffed out in silent laughter as he moved back to her mouth. "Well, not Luke's. I don't think Jess would appreciate the gesture."

"No. You know we're creasing coats that cost more than my mother's car."

"Not as much as we're creasing your dress. There's no way you can go back out there like this."

She sighed in satisfaction. "Good. I want to stay right here."

End.

Gilmore Girls