Title: Pride and Prejudice
Author: Laura
Rating: PG
Summary: Rory Gilmore thinks she finally has it figured out. She's back with Dean and is looking forward to a fun-filled summer with him and her best friend, Lane, in Stars Hollow. But when Tristan DuGray shows up and intrudes upon her life, she immediately thinks that her summer is ruined. But life proves otherwise.
Disclaimer: Based on the characters, settings and situations created by Amy Sherman-Palladino.

Chapter Five: Changes

“Can you believe that it’s junior year already?” Lane tosses her coffee cup into the trash can on the corner as she and Rory step out into the street. “It’s insane.”

"I don’t know where the summer went," Rory replies, shaking her head sadly. "I’m not ready to go back to Chilton yet."

"You think I’m ready to go back to Stars Hollow High? Do you have any idea how many AP classes my mother is making me take this year? She got a list of all the extracurricular activities that are possible to join at school and she wants me to pick at least ten. Ten, Rory! I am going to have no life."

"Can you really fit ten APs into your schedule? Do they offer that many?"

"Okay, so maybe six. But six is still a lot."

"I’m sorry, Lane. I promise that I’ll keep sneaking you junk food and messages from Henry on a regular basis."

"Is he going to be in any of your classes this year?" Lane asks excitedly, her mood suddenly changing for the better.

"I won’t know until I actually go to school," Rory smiles. "But I promise I’ll call you and let you know the second I get home."

"You’re the best friend ever."

"Why thank you." Rory and Lane approach the bus stop and spot Dean standing there already, leaning against a street lamp. He sees the two girls walking across the street and takes a few steps toward them.

"Hey, you," Dean grins, leaning down to kiss Rory on the cheek. "You all ready for your first day back?"

"Ready? Don’t know. But I think I’ll make it through the day in one piece, which is a good thing."

"Good, because I wouldn’t want Mrs. Potato Head for a girlfriend," Dean retorts with a wink.

"Mr. Potato Head might’ve been a bit jealous if you took his wife for your girlfriend anyway," Rory points out. "So, how about you? Are you all set for your first day back?" Rory asks. "Do you and Lane have any classes together?"

"We won’t know until we actually go to school," Lane echoes Rory’s comment from moments before and Rory sticks her tongue out at her. Lane sticks her tongue out back at her and Dean just shakes is head.

"I love the kindergarten mentality," he remarks. Lane and Rory turn their tongues on him.

"You’re a meaniehead," Lane tells him.

"I’m not playing kickball with you at recess and I’m going to tell all the other girls that you’re icky."

"I should’ve known better than to cross you two," he jokes, giving Rory a quick kiss on the cheek. "I have to meet Todd before class to talk about getting my dirt bike back from his garage, so I will catch up with you lovely ladies later. Have a great day back, Ror. Hope you don’t have too many classes with that Tristan jerk."

"Oh...yeah. Me too," Rory stutters, hiding her nervousness with a cough.

"I’ll call you later tonight, we should do dinner or something to mourn the end of summer," Dean kisses her again and then waves good-bye to Lane before crossing the street. Lane turns to Rory, crossing her arms.

"You still haven’t told Dean that you and Tristan are friends now?"

"It hasn’t come up in conversation, that’s all," Rory excuses herself. "Besides, why does he have to know? It’ll only make him more paranoid about it than he already is."

"But he’s going to find out, it’s not like you can keep it from him forever. Especially if you and Tristan are working on your newspaper together," Lane points out. "Besides, if you’re really going to be friends with Tristan like you say...you can’t go around trying to hide him from Dean all the time. Both of them will end up getting hurt."

"I know," Rory sighs, glancing down the street as the bus turns the corner and starts slowing to a stop. "I just don’t know how to convince Dean that Tristan is nothing to be worried about. He’s really threatened by him, I don’t really know why."

"You don’t know why." Lane shoots Rory a look and she frowns.

"Okay, so maybe I do know why...but then I don’t because I don’t see how I’ve ever given him a reason to doubt me," Rory shrugs and Lane mimics her.

"I would love to have your problems," Lane jokes with a heavy, dramatic sigh. "Torn between two beautiful men. What’s a poor girl to do?" Rory casts a glare at her.

"I am not torn between anything."

"Whatever you say."

"I’m getting on the bus now," Rory gestures in the direction of the bus as it comes to a halt in front of them, the brakes screeching.

"Tell Tristan I said hi," Lane smirks. The door to the bus opens with a loud whoosh and Rory hops up onto the first step, rolling her eyes at her best friend.

"Yeah, I bet Henry would be really thrilled with that, when I go up to Tristan and give him your salutations and completely ignore him."

"Salutations? Charlotte wants her web back," Lane retorts. "And anyway, what’s the harm in telling Tristan hello? While Henry is adorable and fabulous in every single way, I am not blind to the charms of other men. I mean, have you seen Tristan? The guy is a golden god. Billy Crudup has nothing on him."

"I’m taking away your copy of Almost Famous," Rory says. The bus driver coughs and starts to close the door. "I have to go sit down. Call you later!"

"Good luck!" Lane shouts as the door closes and the bus pulls away from the curb. Rory waves out the window as she takes her seat, then settles in for the long boring bus ride ahead of her.

*******

"Coffee," Lorelai demands as she sits down at the kitchen table, her eyes still half closed with sleep. She tugs at the strap of her loose tank top and throws a glance in Luke’s direction. Luke, already dressed and in the midst of making breakfast, eyes her amusedly.

"Good morning to you too," he says, his voice ringing with sarcastic cheer. Lorelai pounds the table with her hand.

"Coffee," she mutters again. Luke sets a mug down in front of her and fills it up to the brim. She immediately takes a long sip and then sighs. A smile graces her face and her eyes flitter open. "Wow, having you here in the morning is just too amazing. I could so get used to this."

"Try not to," Luke mumbles back, setting a plate of food in front of her. "I really don’t trust leaving Caesar to open the diner and handle the early morning crowd, I probably shouldn’t make a habit of this," he turns toward the sink. Lorelai stands up, ignoring the steaming, appetizing breakfast in front of her. She circles her arms around his waist and stands on tiptoe to kiss the back of his neck. He turns around to face her, a small smile playing at his mouth.

"I think Caesar has worked for you long enough to handle things at least a few mornings a week. I’m trusting Michel to do the early morning stuff, and that tops your show of trust by..." Lorelai holds her hands out a large space away from one another. "This much."

"Fine, you win," Luke retorts and Lorelai returns her hands to the sides of his scruffy face. They kiss one another deeply, lingering in their warm embrace.

"Oh, I could definitely get used to that, too," Lorelai sighs, leaning her forehead against his with a giddy smile.

"*That* I’m perfectly fine with," Luke grins, kissing her again. After a few moments he breaks away. Lorelai looks at him with questions in her eyes. "Your breakfast is getting cold," he tells her caringly. "You should eat."

"Only if you stop playing Julia Child for a moment and sit and eat with me," Lorelai tugs on his plaid shirt and then pulls out the chair next to her place. "You’re like the damned Energizer Bunny. And while I appreciate your cooking...and cleaning...and well, pretty much doing everything...you’re never as cute as when you actually sit down next to me and keep me company." Lorelai extends a forkful of scrambled eggs toward him and he takes it from her. They eat in silence for a moment before Lorelai continues.

"Rory handled you being here this morning really well, don’t you think?"

"I think the breakfast helped a lot. It must’ve been amazing to eat something other than pop tarts or my muffins on a weekday," Luke smirks, taking another bite of the food that Lorelai extends out to him.

"Don’t mock the pop tart," Lorelai warns him, before continuing her previous train of thought. "It’s so amazing how much more of an...*adult* Rory seemed to me today when she left," Lorelai says, smiling wistfully. "I remember taking her to school last year..."

"Dressed like a rodeo queen..."

"Shut up. And she looked so tiny and scared and Chilton was so huge and the people were so scary..." She shakes her head, cutting a piece of sausage on her plate. "And this year...just off she went. So confident. It was like she was all grown up, all of a sudden."

"Funny how fast it all happens, isn’t it?" Luke replies, his face clearly showing that he’s thinking about how fast Rory has grown up as well. "I can still remember when you brought her into the diner for the first time. She was so small"and you had her dressed in that awful bright pink jumper..."

"That was cute!" Lorelai exclaims, swatting him on the arm. "You just have no fashion sense. She was the most hip baby in all of Connecticut. All of the Northeast, in fact."

"Why not the whole nation?"

"Try the whole universe, actually. No one was more cool than Rory Gilmore at age 2," she states emphatically. "Though I think that Rory Gilmore at age 16...definitely giving her a run for her money. This year is going to be a wildly entertaining one as far as her boy admirers go, I’m telling you."

"Bag boy have some competition?" Luke asks, leaning back into his chair. "It’s that Triscuit kid, isn’t it?"

"*Tristan*, and yes," Lorelai rolls her eyes at him. "And I happen to like him. He’s nuts about Rory but is far more exciting than Dean, and gorgeous to boot. Dean is a peach, really, but Tristan is a..." She stops, searching for the word.

"Nectarine?"

"I was using peach as a synonym for sweetheart, but if you wish to use it literally..."

"I’m not a fan of the figurative, thanks. I think if you want to say something, just say it. It makes life a lot easier."

"So if I were to call you a..." Lorelai taps her chin and looks up at the ceiling, pretending to think really hard. "Monolith, you’d take it as me calling you a really large rock and nothing else?"

"I’d assume you were talking about Stonehenge."

"Don’t get me started on Stonehenge." Luke raises an eyebrow, which only urges Lorelai onward. "I saw a special on it on the Travel Channel once. Forget the Druids...that place is definitely the result of alien visitation."

"I don’t think I want to hear anymore about this."

"Either that or incredibly tall and hugely powerful human beings with the ability to lift humongous rocks. And somehow the humans option doesn’t seem too convincing," Lorelai tells Luke matter...of...factly. "So my vote is for the aliens."

"Drink your coffee and just stop talking," Luke orders her, though he’s half...smiling.

"You’re ordering me to actually drink coffee for a change? This is highly unusual. Maybe you’re an alien." Lorelai stands up, sets her coffee mug down on the table, and looks at him very closely. She takes his face in her hands and turns it from side to side, and then looks him up and down. Then she peeks under his hat and walks once around him. Crossing her arms and sighing, she shakes her head. "No, no signs of alien life forms in that body." Lorelai suddenly grins wickedly and claps her hands together with a laugh. "Maybe I should strip search you. Just to make sure."

"I’d love to take you up on that but like I said..." He gestures toward the door. Lorelai frowns and rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Gotta go do the ‘adult’ thing and go to work..." She mumbles in a heavy doldrum voice. "Blah, blah, blah..." Luke rolls his eyes back at her and they both break out into smiles. Lorelai wraps her arms him and kisses him once sweetly. "I’ll come visit you for lunch."

"Sounds good." Luke starts to withdraw from her arms and she pouts.

"Sure you can’t stay and eat with me?" She follows him out into the foyer.

"Lorelai..."

"All right. I’ll see you later, party pooper." She sticks out her bottom lip as far as it can go and gives him puppy eyes. Luke kisses her forehead and then heads toward the door, casting a look down at her feet.

"By the way, I love the slippers," he comments as he opens the door. He shoots her a quick smile before the door closes. Lorelai looks down at her monkey and banana slippers and grins. Kicking one foot up, she turns and flies back toward the kitchen, happily returning to the breakfast waiting for her on the table.

*******

Rory stops in front of her locker, dropping her heavy bookbag down onto the ground by her feet. A short girl with wavy, dark red hair is standing at the locker right of hers, looking as if she’s about to burst into tears. She tugs on her locker harshly, obviously unable to get it open. Recognizing the girl’s struggle as incredibly familiar, Rory sets a hand on her shoulder.

"Here, let me show you something," Rory takes the slip of paper with the girl’s combination from her hand and quickly spins the numbers. "If you go four past the last number and then-" Rory lightly bangs the area right above the lock. "Hit there, it’ll open without a problem." Rory opens it with ease and the girl looks at her gratefully.

"Thank you so much. I’ve been trying to get this thing open for the past fifteen minutes," she smiles.

"I know how it is," Rory nods. "You’re new to the school?"

"Yeah, it’s really obvious, isn’t it?" She laughs.

"A little bit, but don’t worry about it," Rory says. "I’m Rory, by the way. If you need any help with anything, just let me know. I went through the whole Chilton initiation last year."

"I’m Mary," she replies. "It’s nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you too. You’re lucky that your name is actually Mary." Mary looks at her, confused. Rory opens up her own locker and stops short in surprise before she can explain her comment. "Tristan." A large cup of steaming hot Starbuck’s coffee is sitting on the bottom of her locker along with a wrapped chocolate chip muffin. She turns around, looking up and down the hallway for him. As she turns back toward her locker, she jumps a mile, finding Tristan leaning against the lockers just to her left. "Tristan!" She exclaims, startled. He smirks and she rolls her eyes.

"Hey there, Mary," he greets her playfully. Mary glances over at Rory in surprise at hearing her voice. She sees Tristan and her mouth falls open slightly. Rory notices the girl staring and smiles.

"You’re going have to stop calling me that this year cause it’s going to get really confusing," Rory tells him and he looks at her, puzzled. "Let me introduce you to an actual Mary. She’s new this year." Rory steps back and Tristan notices the short girl behind Rory for the first time. "Mary, this is Tristan."

"Well, this just isn’t going to work," Tristan shakes his head. "We’ll have to think of a nickname for you, Mary, because Mary is already taken."

"My mom calls me Shorty, but that’s not very original," Mary shrugs. Tristan shrugs back.

"You could do the sane thing and call her Mary and call me by my actual name, you know," Rory cuts in but Tristan ignores her plea.

"Shorty will work wonderfully," Tristan smiles, extending his hand to her. Rory groans. "Nice to meet you, Shorty. My friends call me-"

"An egotistical maniac," Rory interrupts with a snort. "Among other things." Tristan covers his heart as if wounded and Rory and Mary both laugh good-naturedly.

"See if I ever bring you coffee in the morning again," Tristan tells her. "This is the thanks I get for being a good friend," he says to Mary, shaking his head sadly.

"Thank you very much, Tristan," Rory replies, lifting the cup from her locker and taking a long sip. "For supplying my elixir of life, I will choose to overlook the many questions presented by this magical coffee appearance, such as how you ever got into my locker."

"I’m just brilliant, that’s all," Tristan smiles, winking at her. He picks up her bookbag from the floor and starts putting her books into her locker as she drinks her coffee. "What’s your first class?"

" Let me check," Rory pulls her new schedule from the front pocket of her backpack. "Um...European Literature. You?"

"The same. Should be more fun than I can handle."

"I, personally, am looking forward to it," Rory remarks, inwardly letting herself admit that she was relieved Tristan was in her class. Facing the first class alone wasn’t something she had been looking forward to.

"You would," he replies. "This girl is obsessed with anything that comes in a hardcover edition," he sidebars to Mary, who is loading up her own backpack with the books for her first class. She laughs lightly.

"I’m not that particular. Paperback is included as well," Rory corrects. "Do you have to go to your locker before class?"

"No, I’m all set." He holds up the books he’s carrying in his right hand. He picks up her bag with his left and hands it to her. She takes it, almost crushing her muffin in the process. Tristan takes her coffee from her without being told and lets her get the bag situated on her shoulders, then hands it back to her.

"Thanks," she murmurs. "We’ll see you later, Mary," Rory waves with a couple of free fingers as she and Tristan head down the hallway.

"Bye, Shorty," Tristan adds. Mary waves back with a smile and then shuts her locker. She turns to go in the opposite direction and runs right into Paris, who was just approaching her own locker.

"Watch where you’re going!" Paris shouts at her and Mary jumps, frightened. Tristan and Rory stop and look back, both hearing Paris’ harsh voice.

"I’m sorry," she apologizes quickly and scurries off, trying to avoid Paris’ glare. Paris pulls open her locker with a bang and, feeling someone’s eyes on her, throws a look in Tristan and Rory’s direction. Upon seeing them standing together, she rolls her eyes and returns to gathering her school materials. Rory and Tristan exchange looks.

"Looks like Paris hasn’t changed her attitude at all," Rory says quietly. Tristan nudges her lightly and nods his head in the direction of class.

"Come on. We’ll be late." They walk down the hallway a short distance and turn into the last classroom on the right. Most of the class is already there and seated, so Rory and Tristan make their way to the few empty seats left toward the far right side. Rory tosses her now empty coffee cup into the trash can before taking a seat. She scans the classroom carefully and Tristan notices. "Looking for someone?"

"Yeah. Henry," she states. "It’s very important that I have at least one class with him so I can give Lane a shred of hope at maintaining secret contact."

"I saw him this morning and I know we have fifth period together. Do you have U.S. History then?"

Rory pulls out her schedule again.

"That I do," she grins. "Excellent. That’s one less thing to worry about." She gives a huge sigh of relief. Tristan smiles, amused by her happiness.

"Speaking of things to worry about-" Tristan starts, but is interrupted by the teacher coughing loudly as he gets up to the front of the classroom.

"All right, class, all private conversations must desist immediately. It is precisely 8:30am and this is when we will begin class every day, without fail. You step in that door at 8:30 and thirty seconds and I will have no qualms about sending you down to the headmaster’s office, who I’m sure will be equally willing to provide you with detention for tardiness. I am Mr. Redmann, and I will be your instructor for the next twenty weeks. Please open your notebooks and textbooks and have your pens ready, because I do not pause for the unprepared."

He turns to the chalkboard and writes the name James Joyce in small, messy cursive writing at the very top.

"We will be beginning with James Joyce’s masterpiece, The Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man. You were told to read this novel over summer break, so if you did not, you better start praying for a miracle right now, because in fifteen minutes I will be handing out a short quiz on the material. This quiz will determine who I like for the rest of the year and who I will not." A few students titter at this comment and Mr. Redmann casts a stern gaze in their direction. "You think I’m kidding? Let me clarify. I’m not."

*******

"Well. That was..."

"Horrifying?" Rory supplies as they step out into the hallway. "I can not believe he yelled at Fiona for sneezing."

"Or that we took seventeen pages of notes in forty-five minutes? On only two passages from the book?"

"My brain hurts already. This is not a good sign," Rory moans.

"And you were looking forward to this."

"I was naïve," Rory replies. Tristan sighs and looks down at the books in his hands.

"I don’t think I like this James Joyce guy."

"I used to, but I think Mr. Redmann is going to ruin everything for me." They both fall silent for a moment, too tired to think. Rory leans her head against the locker next to Tristan’s and closes her eyes as he opens his locker up. He quickly exchanges his books and slams it, jarring Rory’s eyes open. "Ow. Loud."

"Sorry. So, I’ll see you fifth?" He asks. She nods, barely moving the rest of her body from her spot.

"See you then," she mumbles. Tristan walks off down the hall, mustering up the willpower not to glance back at her. Rory watches him walk away, her brain locked in on his retreating form. Suddenly, as if remembering where and who she is, she stands up straight and shakes her head fiercely. "God...wake up," she mutters. Realizing that she hasn’t left herself a lot of time to get to her locker and to class, she hurries away. When she reaches her locker, she groans out loud. Paris turns and looks at her, annoyed.

"Why if it isn’t Rory Gilmore. Where’s your other half?" Paris snorts and Rory slowly approaches, wishing that Paris would just disappear.

"I don’t know what you’re talking about," she replies, keeping her gaze focused on the lock as she twirls the combination.

"You and Tristan haven’t been anywhere without each other today," Paris snipes.

"What, the whole massive one time you’ve seen us? We were going to class. A class that we had together."

"How does that render my statement untrue?"

"Okay, you got me, Paris. Tristan and I have been everywhere together in school today. What’s your point?"

"My point is exactly that. Are you two dating now?"

"No, nothing has changed since the last time you interrogated me two weeks ago. Dean is still very much my boyfriend."

"Then why is Tristan arranging for you to have your own newspaper?"

"Why do you think?" Rory asks, disbelieving.

"Because you two have something going on."

"No, it’s because you were being awful to me, and since he’s my friend, he was trying to make me feel better. That’s what friends do." Rory takes the books for her next two periods out of her locker, not bothering to get rid of her books from first period. "Now if you’ll excuse me, I have more important things to do than stand here and argue with you about stupid things like me and Tristan." She slams her locker and walks off, leaving a seething Paris behind.

Madeleine and Louise walk up to her, flanking her on both sides. The three of them look in the direction that Rory went.

"Rory still playing the innocent school girl?" Louise purrs, cocking an eyebrow and smirking.

"She hasn’t changed a bit, if that’s what you’re asking," Paris snaps.

"Well I doubt she’ll be innocent much longer if something is happening with Tristan. He’s not exactly known for his chastity," Louise replies. Madeleine looks at them both, confused.

"Tristan does volunteer work?" She asks and Paris rolls her eyes.

"Not charity, Madeleine, chastity. Have you ever even looked at a dictionary in your life?" Paris snorts. "Enough of this, we’re going to be late." She stalks away and Madeleine and Louise follow much more slowly and leisurely.

*******

Rory looks up as someone sets a lunch tray down next to her with a heavy thud. Smiling, she pulls her headphones off and turns to Mary as the girl sits down next to her.

"You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?" She asks, clearly exhausted. Rory shakes her head no quickly. "You looked like you didn’t want to be bothered, but I couldn’t find anyone else in this whole cafeteria who wasn’t going to rip me to shreds in an instant."

" No, it’s no bother. I just listen to music and read to keep them from ripping me to shreds so we’re in the same boat. How’s your first day going?" Rory asks and the look on Mary’s face says it all. "That bad, huh?"

"This place is scary, the teachers are scary, the workload is scary, and my classmates are even scarier," Mary explains. "Do you know who Paris...Gellar is?"

"Boy do I ever. I saw her run into you today in the hall. Has she bothered you at all since?"

"She’s in my chemistry class and I could feel her throwing daggers at me with her eyes for forty-five minutes straight." Rory is confused for a moment.

"Wait…you’re a junior too?" Rory inquires. "I thought...I’m sorry. I was under the impression that you were a sophomore or..."

"A freshman?" Mary laughs. "Don’t feel bad. I think I look a lot younger than I actually am."

"Wow, so you’re starting here as a junior? That has to be so hard."

"It’s not so bad. I went to private school in New York before I came here, so this whole system of elite education isn’t really all that unfamiliar. It’s just the new faces, the new atmosphere...Eek." Mary laughs somewhat nervously. "A lot to handle in one day."

"Well you can always eat lunch with me so at least that is one thing you won’t have to worry about," Rory tells her with a smile. She takes a drink out of her bottle of iced tea as Mary settles into her seat.

"Thanks." Mary glances over at the stack of papers Rory has sitting in front of her, her own lunch pushed off to her side. "What’s all this?"

"Oh, it’s just stuff I’m working on for my newspaper."

"You work on the school newspaper?"

"No, not exactly. Our lovely friend Paris is the editor this year...and Paris hates me and refused to let me have any substantial part in this year’s paper, even though I really wanted to write the music column. So I started my own paper. Rather...Tristan started it," Rory explains, a smile creeping across her face. Mary looks impressed.

"How did he do that?"

"Honestly, I don’t know," Rory laughs. "But apparently he just asked the school board and..." She stops, shrugging, a faint look of happiness lighting her face. "There it was. It was really amazing. It’s called the Chilton Beat...and that’s pretty much all that’s been settled so far. I haven’t gotten anything ready yet and it’s due at the end of this week." Rory looks down at the pages of notes laying in front of her. "I’m not quite sure where to start."

"It’s so cool that you have your own paper. Maybe I can help you out with something, sometime."

"You’re on board then, right now. You’re my third staffer," Rory grins, handing her a blank sheet of paper.

"Are you serious?" Mary asks, as if she hadn’t really believed Rory would even consider it.

"Of course. Write anything you want, as long as it’s music related. Are you really into music?" Rory backtracks, suddenly realizing Mary may have no knowledge in the area at all.

"Am I into music? What a question," Mary scoffs jokingly. "Columbia Record Company is my godsend. My collection of cds is now 300 plus. It’s basically where all of my money goes."

"Excellent." Rory is relieved.

"Who else is working on the paper with you? I’m assuming Tristan..."

"Yeah, Tristan is...and so is my best friend Lane. She’s going to be a kind of...contributing guest columnist..." Rory stumbles for a title to give her. "She doesn’t go to this school so I’ll have to think of some interesting way of sneaking her in there."

Mary picks up her fork from her lunch tray and stirs the mashed potatoes that look none too appetizing. She grimaces and sets her fork back down. Rory hands her an apple from her lunch.

"Always pack," she advises. "I don’t even want to know what’s in the cafeteria food."

"Sounds like a good idea," Mary agrees, sliding her tray away from her in disgust. She takes the round little sticker label off of the apple and puts it onto the discarded tray. "So can I ask you a question about Paris?"

"If you want to know why she is the way she is, I’m not quite sure. But if it’s anything else, I’ll give it a go."

"I was just wondering why she dislikes you so much. I mean...as far as I can tell, you’re the nicest person in this entire school. You’re the only person who has gone out of the way to help me today. I don’t get it."

"At first it was because she thought I was going to take her place as head of the class.then later it turned into this whole...Tristan jealousy thing..." Rory frowns. "She’s liked Tristan for a really long time and somehow she got it into her head that he and I have something romantic going on between us, and therefore, she hates my guts."

"But...I thought...I thought you and Tristan were going out. I mean, I thought he was your boyfriend," Mary says, clearly puzzled. "It just seemed like...I was wrong?" Mary guesses from the look on Rory’s face.

"Tristan and I actually just started being friends. Last year he tormented me constantly, but over the summer...we worked things out. I actually have a boyfriend back at home, in Stars Hollow. His name is Dean."

"Dean, huh. Nice?"

"The nicest. We’ve been going out for a couple of months now...we went out last year too but we kind of had this whole break-up thing that kept us apart for awhile," Rory explains easily, laughing lightly. "Now things are really good."

"If you have a boyfriend then why does Paris insist that you and Tristan are...?"

" One of the world’s great many mysteries that will never be unraveled, along with the mystery of how Britney Spears ever sustained a career longer than a year and the disappearance of comedy on Saturday Night Live," Rory quips.

"SNL has gotten a lot better in recent months and the answer to the Britney Spears question is clearly her complete lack of conscience regarding blurring the line between prostitution and entertainment," Tristan explains matter-of-factly as he sits down across from Rory, stepping into the conversation effortlessly. He shoots a smile at Mary and then looks to Rory. He hands her an envelope with Korean symbols on the outside of it. "Henry went back to his locker and got that for Lane. Never seen a guy so excited before."

"Lane will be twice as excited," Rory replies. "And what’s with the harsh judgement of Britney Spears? I would’ve thought you’d enjoy her endless sexual antics."

"I prefer girls with a little more class," Tristan smirks. "Not that I mind seeing her half undressed everywhere I go, because after all, I am a guy, but I have zero respect for someone who does that."

"I can always count on you to surprise me, Tristan." Rory stares at him for a moment and Mary watches the two, still a bit surprised herself over Rory’s explanation of their relationship, or lack thereof. Tristan smiles at Rory and leans across the table, taking her granola bar.

"Thanks," he says, unwrapping the bar and taking a bite before she can stop him. She glares at him.

"But then I can always depend on you to do something moronic in the very next instant," she remarks and he just chuckles, slouching back and running one hand through his tousled blond hair. He enjoyed playing with Rory’s moods like this. One minute her blue eyes could be serene and beautiful and the next they could be sparking with fire, and twice as gorgeous. He glances away, pretending to wave to someone he knows, buying himself some time to hide how deeply he is affected.

"This is good," Tristan tells her, taking another bite. "Shorty, you want some?" Tristan extends it out to her and she shakes her head no. "All the more for me."

"You’re infuriating."

"I try," he says, then leans back forward in his chair, peeking at Rory’s pile of notes. "Is this stuff for The Beat?"

"Hopefully," Rory replies, sighing. "It’s a little...everywhere right now."

"I’m sure it’ll get there. Just let me know what you need me to do."

Rory taps her pen and bites her lip, inwardly debating whether or not to ask him.

"What do you think about you and me doing a kind of...he said, she said type of thing? You know, review an album or a song each week and go back and forth, giving our own perspectives?" Rory watches him for a reaction and at first she can’t tell one way or the other. "Maybe not. It’s a little stupid...too cliché? I thought so too. It’s been done."

"I think it’s a good idea. It could work really well," Tristan suddenly responds after a moment of pondering. Rory looks at him, meeting his gaze. She blinks as if startled.

"You really think so?" Rory’s voice wavers. His eyes seem electrifyingly blue and his skin looks irresistable to touch. Rory can feel her face flushing and she quickly distracts herself by taking another sip of her drink. The last thing she ever needed to do was let herself become attracted to Tristan DuGrey. Deciding it was just a fleeting moment of hormonal weakness, Rory quickly proceeds, not wanting the feeling to hang in her body. "I wasn’t sure and it was just an idea I had; if you have anything better, I’d love to hear it."

"No, the He Said She Said thing could be interesting. We should try it."

"All right..." Rory smiles, a bit relieved that the moment passed. She turns to Mary. "And then if you want to write a column each week, about whatever you want, really...I’ll run a poll around school about certain music, singers, opinions, etc., and we can put that in every week...Lane will have a column and I know she’ll never run out of music to talk about..."

"We can print information about concerts coming to Hartford, local bands playing in the clubs downtown, cd and singles release dates, new bands to look out for..." Tristan suggests, his voice growing in excitement. "I think it’s all going to come together, Ror."

"We can even have other students write in letters to the editor each week, you know, with their reactions to our reviews, what they thought of concerts that they went to, things like that. Hopefully we can make everyone feel involved," Rory grins widely.

"This is going to be really great, I can just see it now," Mary tells them both. "Paris is going to kick herself for ever daring to mess with you." At this, everyone smiles. Tristan nods at Rory.

"She’s really going to regret not involving you in the newspaper. But her loss is the rest of the world’s gain, right?" Tristan says. "This is going to win you tons of points with Harvard, moreso than any reporting job about janitorial and construction improvements at Chilton."

"And it’s going to be so much more fun," Rory adds happily. "Though I feel bad because I’m sure now the excellent repavement job of the school parking lot is going to go unheralded."

"We can add a blurb about it in the first edition," Tristan smirks. "Paris will love that."

"Do you want us to get together and work on this as one or is this going to be a deadline kind of operation?" Mary asks, actually getting out her day planner and a pen and opening it to the notes section.

"I think that this week I’d really like us all to work together...cause I certainly don’t have the faintest idea what I’m doing. Since we’re all going to be working a lot on this I’d like your input on how it is organized, the format, everything. But after all of that gets settled I think the process will run more smoothly and we can change to a less demanding deadline schedule. We just have to find the rhythm and settle into it first, that’s all."

"When you talk like that, it really makes me disbelieve your statement that you don’t know what you’re doing," Tristan remarks, stealing a sip from her drink and setting it back down in front of her.

"I must be getting better at putting up a knowledgable front then," Rory states. "I should become a teacher. Half the time they don’t really know what’s going on."

"Unless you’re Mr. Redmann, in which case you have every aspect of every certain thing worked out to the very last miniscule detail," Tristan laughs, rolling his eyes. Mary groans.

"Oh god, is he bad? I have him last period."

Tristan and Rory exchange knowing looks.

"Shorty, you’re going to wish with all of your heart and soul that you’d never set foot in Chilton Academy."

********

"Guess who’s here for lunch?" Lorelai calls as she plops down, her purse hitting the counter with a thud. She peeks over the counter, looking for Luke.

"The Queen of England?" Luke’s voice comes from the back room and Lorelai laughs.

"Oh dear, you’ve got me now, you silly willy nilly. The big pearls, white gloves and terrible hat with veil must have given me away. I must talk to the staff at the Palace about finding me more suitable attire for my igcognito pursuits," Lorelai replies in an overdone, haughty English accent. Luke doesn’t reply right away so Lorelai glances around at the other customers as if plotting an evil deed, then circles the counter and disappears into the backroom. Luke is lifting a box down from the top shelf and as he sets it done on the ground, Lorelai stops and smiles. Lifting her hand, she gives him a royal wave.

"What are you doing with your hand?"

"Giving you the royal treatment. I’ve been practicing that for years. I think it’s quite good. All I need is a motorcar and a really ugly outfit with really big ugly buttons on it and I’m Buckingham Palace bound, baby."

"You need to work on the accent," Luke informs her and she waves him off with a snort.

"You don’t know a good accent when you hear one, Luke Danes."

"Apparently neither do you," he retorts as she steps toward him. She grimaces and then frowns deeply, mocking like she’s hurt. Luke rolls his eyes. "But I don’t think British accents are all that great to begin with, so maybe I’m biased." Lorelai smiles, almost in wonderment.

"Wow, Luke. I think that’s the first time I’ve ever been able to get you undermine one of your own insults on purpose. You really like me! You really really like me!" She cries out, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye.

"I take it back. Your accent plain old stinks, bias or no bias. It’s so bad that even extensive tutoring by Gwyneth Paltrow on faking a better one would be of absolutely no help to you." Luke makes a final gesture with his hand and Lorelai just smirks.

"I never pegged you as a Gwyneth afficionado." Lorelai stares at him, hard, for a moment, contemplating it. "But I guess I can see that about you. I can picture it now...sneaking into the theater to see Emma and Shakespeare in Love...hiding in the back row as you drooled into your popcorn bucket..."

"Ah...not really my type, actually," Luke says off-handedly, adjusting his baseball cap and turning back to the shelves. Lorelai walks up behind him and sneaks her arms around his waist, smoothing her hands up his chest and pulling him back toward her.

"You have a type? What would that be? Gimme a hint. Tall, short, blonde, brunette..."

"You," Luke tells her, smiling gently as Lorelai stands on tiptoe to lean her head over his shoulder and kiss him on the side of his face.

"You may be a man of few words, Luke Danes, but boy can you choose ‘em," she laughs. He turns around and faces her.

"You’re going to have a really bad affect on me, I’m beginning to fear this," Luke murmurs.

"Why is that?" Lorelai questions.

"First off this whole thing is making me feel happy and as we both know, we can’t have that."

"No, certainly not," Lorelai states with a heavy frown which is quickly reversed into a grin.

"Secondly whenever you’re around you prohibit me from doing any of the work I am supposed to be doing."

"You’d rather go back to stocking your salt shakers? More power to ya," Lorelai says. "But somehow I don’t think you mind all that much." She glances around the stock room as if searching for something. "In fact, who was that guy who suggested I come here for lunch instead of staying at the Inn? I think it was the same guy I woke up next to this morning...he didn’t seem to mind the idea of fun either...gosh, who was that?" Lorelai looks back at Luke, a look of surprise on her face. "Oh my god, wait...wait...it was you! How about that." Luke grunts in response and Lorelai sticks her tongue out at him.

"If you stick your tongue out at me again, I’m going to have to..." Luke stops, not having any ideas.

"You’re going to what?"

"I...I’m going to..."

"You don’t know."

"Ah, so what."

"I have an idea though," Lorelai grins and leans toward him, engaging him in a heated open-mouthed kiss. Luke lifts her up and sets her on the table in the center of the small room, clearly agreeing with her suggestion. They kiss passionately for a few minutes, their hands traveling eagerly over one another’s bodies. Lorelai takes a pause for breath but pulls Luke back to her within seconds. Neither of them notice the table starting to creak until they hit the floor admist the loud clanging of metal and the clashing of wood against concrete. Luke falls on top of Lorelai, who is laying face up on top of the collapsed table.

"What in the world was that racket?" Taylor’s voice preceeds him, his nosy person appearing in the doorway shortly after. Kirk pops in right behind him.

"What is going on here?" Kirk asks, quickly reaching into his shoulder bag for something. Luke and Lorelai look up at the two men in the doorway, still a bit jarred from their sudden fall.

"In a storage room? Lorelai, I really expected better from you. What an example to set for Rory! My goodness," Taylor shakes his head sadly, as if he had witnessed Lorelai doing hard drugs and asking Rory to partake. "And Luke...is this any to run a business? You have people waiting to be served out here! Which includes me, mind you." A bright flash blinds Luke and Lorelai temporarily.

"What in the world...?" Luke mumbles, slowly climbing off of Lorelai and offering her a hand to help her up. "What was that?"

"I’m just thanking my lucky stars that I put my camera in my bag this morning," Kirk smirks at Luke, his voice dripping with smugness. "That was a wonderful photo opportunity."

"Kirk, you are unbelievable," Lorelai groans, brushing some dust off of the back of her jeans. "One of these days someone is going to rip that thing from your hands and crush it into a million pieces and I hope I’m there to see it and laugh, laugh, laugh, at you, you sad little man."

"I don’t think you’re in any position to judge, Lorelai," Kirk retorts and Luke steps between the two before Lorelai swatted Kirk upside the head.

"The details of these shennanigans are going to be all over town in no time. Rory is going to hear about this and she’s going to be very upset."

"Shenanigans? Taylor, making out in a private area with my boyfriend does not fall under shenanigans. Zaniness, maybe, but shenanigans involve things of a more michevious nature. Like what I’m plotting in my head to do to you right now. And as for Rory, she’s fully aware of mine and Luke’s relationship and she’s fine with it. And besides, if you are so concerned for Rory, why would you spread it around town?"

"These things spread of their own volition, Lorelai, it’s not like Kirk and I were the only one who could hear you two," Taylor replies and Lorelai groans in frustration. Kirk snaps another picture and Luke steps toward him menacingly.

"You do that one more time and I swear-"

Kirk backs up and then dashes out of view. Taylor throws up his hands in defeat and huffs away, leaving Lorelai and Luke alone once more.

"Please remind me why I live in this town," Lorelai remarks, annoyed.

"I have no clue. It is beyond me."

"Can you believe him? He acts like he’s my father, like he’s catching me doing something naughty. Which I wasn’t," Lorelai says, then giggles. "Not yet, anyway."

"I think Taylor just has some kind of paternal complex, trying to make every person in this town his own kid or something. Makes me crazy," Luke mutters and Lorelai nods.

"Maybe we should get the town together and hire him a shrink."

"Good idea."

Lorelai glances down at the broken table and covers her mouth, trying not to laugh.

"I can’t believe I broke your table."

"It was fallin’ apart anyway, you didn’t break anything. Besides, even if you did, it wasn’t exactly like you were the lone assailant of the table in this matter."

"That is true," Lorelai nods, nudging his side with her hip. "We double teamed that sucker and brought it down before it knew what hit him."

"Him?"

"Yeah, him. It was a him, anyway. Phillip."

"Phillip."

"I think that since we killed him we could at least honor him with a real name," Lorelai says as if she can’t believe she has to explain it.

"And you choose Phillip."

"I like the name Phillip."

"You are so strange."

"Can I have that lunch now?"

"You kill Phillip and now you want lunch? Boy are you callous," Luke smirks.

"I thought we already agreed to share blame!"

"But you’re the one who went ahead and gave it a name and made it into an actual victim."

"Lunch? And coffee. Yummy coffee." Lorelai walks back out behind the counter and then lifts herself up to sit on the counter. Luke eyes her wearily.

"Watch out, you’re going to murder that too."

"I better name him then. He’s Albert. I’ll stick with the British monarchy theme for today. It seems to be working."

"I wouldn’t call that working. Phillip is dead."

"Your toaster’s name can be Charles, and the mustard is William and the ketchup is Harry"no. The ketchup is William because it’s a taller bottle."

"You really expect me to give you coffee when you’re already naming inanimate objects after useless figureheads of the old British government?" Luke inquires, skeptical. Lorelai grabs a mug and extends it out to him.

"Coffeeeeeeeeee...or the pots and pans are getting names too. The matching ones can be Elizabeth the 1st and 2nd....your knife is Henry the VIII..." Luke fills up Lorelai’s mug, sighing. Lorelai raises one hand in triumph she she uses the other to lift the mug full of delicious brew to her lips. After a sip and a moment of silence, another thought occurs to her. "Oh! And all of your bowls can be Camilla Parker Bow-"

"Don’t even finish that sentence." Luke covers her mouth, shaking his head adamantly. Lorelai smiles against the pressure of his hand. Luke suddenly jumps away from her, pulling his hand away from her face. "Ew! Ew, god, Lorelai, did you just lick my hand?" He exclaims. Lorelai laughs at him as he goes to the sink to wash his hands. "Seriously, you would make so many good friends in kindergarten."

"They say all you need to know about life you learn in kindergarten, so I guess I’m set," she responds, swinging her legs in the air as they dangle off off the counter. Luke turns back to her, about to make another witty remark when he stops himself, knowing it will only start another cycle and Lorelai will never order her lunch.

"You have to be back at work in twenty minutes, Lor...what would you like to eat?" He asks, guessing the answer will be the same as always.

"Um...let me think..." She is silent for a moment. "A hamburger?"

"You live so dangerously."

"I get my kicks from other things. Like breaking tables."

"One burger coming right up."

"Thanks," she says, watching as he disappears into the freezer to get the frozen patty. Smiling, Lorelai looks around the diner, deciding that she liked this side of the counter very much.

*******

"Hey, Mary."

"Hey...Jude." Rory stumbles for a name to use in reply but comes up short. Tristan chuckles as he drapes his arm over her open locker and leans against it nonchalantly.

"Jude, huh?" He acts impressed. "That’s not too bad...at least it’s a good song."

"I was thinking it was more of a...I don’t know...shortened form of Judas?" Rory retorts with a smirk. "I figure we should stick with the Bible sources."

"Indeed. Judas it is," Tristan replies and lets it go without further comment, much to Rory’s surprise. "So, did you survive your first day at Chilton unscathed?" She glances at him with a shrug.

"Mostly so. Though I still have the walk to the bus, so you can’t be quite sure I’m in the clear just yet." She zips up her backpack and Tristan shuts her locker for her.

"Want me to drive you home?" He offers.

"All the way out to Stars Hollow?" Rory asks, shaking her head. "There’s really no need, Tristan. The bus is perfectly fine."

"What can I say...I’m a gentleman."

"Perhaps you should be tested for schizophrenia because you’re delusions of grandeur are getting progressively worse and worse," Rory comments as they head down the hallway toward the main exit of the building. "Next thing I know you’re going to be telling me you’re a world-class hero or the President of the United States."

"I don’t know about that one. I wouldn’t want to be President," Tristan says. "I don’t get the appeal. Sure, you’re the most powerful person in the free world today, but really. Who needs all that stress?"

"I don’t think it’d be a good career choice for me either," Rory agrees. "I guess we don’t have to worry about planning those upscale campaigns then."

"I’ll fire the managers tonight," Tristan pretends to write it down on an imaginary notebook in his hand. They walk outside into the bright afternoon sunlight and both of them stop, squinting. Tristan immediately takes off his blazer and tie, unbuttoning the first three buttons of his shirt.

"Sure still feels like summer. Maybe this is all a huge mistake and they sent us back to school early. You think that’s a possibility?"

"Um...if only," Tristan sighs. "You sure you don’t want a ride home?" Tristan bites his lip after asking the question, wishing he hadn’t asked it. Could he be more obvious and overeager? Rory surveys the parking lot to make sure her bus is still waiting and then shakes her head no.

"Thanks, but the bus is here and everything. It’s not a problem. See you tomorrow?"

"Yeah. See ya," Tristan waves as he backs away from her and then turns to walk to his car. Rory watches him go, almost feeling sorry that she hadn’t accepted his offer. The bus ride home was all right, but almost certainly boring. Any time spent with Tristan brought a number of adjectives to mind - boring was never one of them. Tristan doesn’t look back at her as he digs his keys from his pocket and points the remote at his car, his headlights flashing twice. "She must think I’m a complete idiot," Tristan thinks to himself, shaking his head in dismay over his own behavior as he climbs inside his Camaro.

Rory stops just before getting onto the bus, glancing back toward the parking lot as Tristan pulls out of his parking spot and speeds away. He drives right past the bus and Rory holds up her hand expectantly to wave at him, but he seems distracted and doesn’t even notice her standing there. Feeling foolish, she lowers her hand quickly and walks up the steps, murmuring a polite hello to the bus driver before taking her seat.

The ride home is uneventful as always, the big bus littered with the usual mid-afternoon crowd of senior citizens and the few other Chilton students who didn’t live in Hartford. Rory simply put on her headphones, buried herself in Michael Chabon’s The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay and before she knew it, she was home. Hurriedly packing her cd player back into her over-stuffed backpack, she clambers off of the bus expectantly, knowing that someone, either her mother, Lane or Dean would probably be waiting there for her.

"And it’s door number two," Rory grins as Lane hops up from the wooden bench with a smile. "Hey. How was your first day back?"

"Oh, the usual. Boring classes, no cute boys, and enough newly dyed blonde hairdos to make Christina Aguilera sick."

"Wow, if it’d make her sick..."

"The entire cheerleading squad, JV and Varsity, have their hair dyed the exact same shade. It’s a sea of Barbie blonde," Lane explains with disgust. Rory screws up her face as well, glad she didn’t have to witness it.

" Sounds like a whole lot of fun."

"Let me tell you, it was. How was your day? Did Paris put you through her Reign of Terror?"

"Robespierre should’ve been there to take notes," Rory sighs. "I did meet a really nice girl, though, who just transferred to Chilton. She’s going to work on the paper with me, you, and Tristan. Her name’s Mary." They cross the street and head toward Luke’s.

"It’s actually Mary, or do you now partake in the biblical name calling seeing as how you’re a seasoned Chilton veteran?"

"It’s actually Mary. Though Tristan is calling her Shorty and still calling me Mary."

"You just can’t win with that boy, can you?" Lane asks with a wink in her voice. Rory gives her a warning look, stopping the clever add-on that she’s sure Lane was about to tack onto the sentence. She changes conversational direction. "Did you see Henry?"

"He’s in my fifth period class," Rory informs her. "He says that he really wants to see you, he gave me a letter to give you, and he says that if you happen to be at the Chilton bake sale this weekend, he’ll see you there."

"You have a letter for me? Where is it? Are you going to the bake sale? Cause I can’t really go without you. That would be lame." The words come out of Lane’s mouth at a rapid fire pace as she starts to jump up and down with excitement, her hands outstretched and eagerly waiting for the letter. Rory stops and sets her backpack down on the sidewalk, opening up the front pocket and digging out a somewhat rumpled envelope.

"Sorry it’s a bit squished. Fitting my entire locker in my bag was not an easy task today."

"You should get a Mary Poppins bag," Lane comments as she rips open the envelope, pulls out the letter and begins reading. They start walking again. "Just let me know if I’m going to walk into someone or something."

"I will," Rory giggles as Lane frantically pours over Henry’s words, reading it once through and then beginning again. "Lane, watch out," Rory warns as they approach Luke’s and Lane steps sideways without even looking up, narrowly avoiding a garbage can.

"This is so sweet!" Lane finally says, a smile spreading across her face. "Do you think this qualifies as a love letter? I’ve never gotten a love letter before."

"Does he compare your smile to the summer sun and call your hair a sea of shimmering raven black? Are there horrible metaphors and mushy words of how much he misses you involved?" Rory inquires and Lane looks down at the letter.

"Uh, I don’t know about the sea thing but I guess everything else applies," Lane tells Rory.

"Then it’s a love letter."

"Excellent! This is amazing. Should I write him back, do you think? Or is that not done?" Lane follows Rory inside of Luke’s, tugging on her best friend’s sleeve. "I know it’s okay for the guy to write a love letter, but if a girl does it...is that too bold? Is that needy? Clingy? Because the standards are different for guys and girls. If guys do it, it’s romantic...if girls do it, it’s just sappy and girly and guys don’t like that. Do they?" Rory sits down and turns to Lane, stilling her wayward hands as she gestures wildly.

"Lane. Just write him back, I don’t think he’s going to read too much into the stereotypical gender roles of a relationship. He’s sixteen."

"Seventeen. He turned seventeen in August."

"Well then he’s even more unlikely to care about what girls and guys are supposed to do. That clarity comes with maturity," Rory explains and Lane finally sits down, looking at her friend questioningly.

" Isn’t this supposed to be me, advising you? That’s usually how it works." Lane jokingly points an accusatory finger at Rory. "You’ve been reading my Cosmo subscriptions, haven’t you?"

"No, usually when the issues come my mom steals it and reads it before I hand it over to you. I just bemoan the fact that the mailman probably thinks I read such horrible magazines."

"You can tell him the next time he comes that you’re just getting it for me, because my mother is a psychopath who won’t let me read it."

"Oh, I’ve already told him that."

"Then why are you whining?" Lane complains and Rory laughs outright. Lane frowns at her own self-inflicted irony.

"I don’t think he believes me. He always looks at me like I’m the biggest liar in the entire world," Rory replies, still smiling.

"I apologize for making the U.S. postal service think you read anything that has pictures in it," Lane bows her head to Rory in mock ashamedness. Rory pokes her and Lane finally takes a seat next to her. Rory glances around, finally noticing that Luke is nowhere to be seen.

"Where is Luke?"

"I was just thinking the same thing," Lane agrees, looking around as well.

"I’m right here," Luke grunts as he emerges from the back room, looking a little rumpled. The phone rings as Rory opens her mouth to speak and Luke holds a finger up to her. "Just a minute, Ror, let me grab that." He picks it up and before he can even say hello, a voice can be heard coming very loudly out of the phone.

"Where is Lorelai? She left the Inn three hours ago and has not been back since. And yet while I love the silence and serenity that her absence brings, taking care of the large amount of work that she has left behind is not something I do enjoy. So if she is there, playing cute in your dirty little diner, I would like you to either put her on the phone or tell her to come back to the Inn immediately before I set fire to the curtains and kill our customers."

"Luke?" Lorelai’s voice comes from the back room.

"She’s not here," Luke tells Michel, smirking. "She left hours ago."

"That is what you said an hour ago when I called. I know you are lying to me, I am not stupid."

" Is that Michel again?" Lorelai asks, hobbling into the diner, trying to put one of her high heels back on. Lane and Rory exchange surprised but amused looks and wait for Lorelai to realize that her daughter is present.

"I heard Lorelai’s voice. She is there, I knew it!" Michel exclaims into the phone.

"She is not here, Michel." Luke signals for Lorelai to shut up. Lorelai makes a face at him and then turns away, stopping in her tracks when she sees Rory and Lane watching her expectantly.

"You lie! I will get you for this, ugly diner man with your horrid plaid shirts!"

Luke rolls his eyes as the dial tone buzzes loudly in his ear and hangs up the phone.

"Hello, Rory. Lane," Lorelai greets them as she circles the counter and takes a seat, trying to act as if nothing is out of the ordinary. Rory smiles knowingly, fully prepared to get as much mileage out of this as she can.

"Why aren’t you at work, Mom?" Rory asks innocently. Lorelai runs her hand through her hair and looks down at the counter.

"Oh, just taking a break. Came to get some lunch, you know, the usual."

"You eat lunch at three o’clock...in the storage room?" Lane inquires, pretending to be honestly confused.

"I...happen to like the storage room. Has a nice homey feel to it."

"Why is Luke lying to Michel? He sounded really mad," Rory chimes in. Lorelai glances at Luke, who just looks on, amused by the whole situation. Lorelai scowls.

"I broke my high heel," she says in exasperation and Rory looks down at her feet.

" No you didn’t...and where did that come from?"

"I was in the back room because Luke was fixing it for me. The shoe. So I could walk back to work."

"It took him all afternoon to fix your shoe?"

"I work very meticulously and slowly," Luke cuts in. "It’s hard to fix a shoe and we wouldn’t want it happening again, you know."

"I could fall and break my ankle," Lorelai adds. "Or worse, I could fall and crush a small animal."

"Like a dog."

"Or a squirrel." Luke and Lorelai are met with clearly disbelieving looks from both teens.

"Do you two want some coffee?" Luke diverts their attention, knowing he and Lorelai are losing the battle.

"And an order of mozzerella sticks, please," Lane replies and Luke raises an eyebrow in dismay. "No commentary on the combination of coffee with mozerrella sticks, please."

"I give up on all of you," Luke shakes his head and goes to prepare their order. Rory and Lane both whip their heads in Lorelai’s direction.

"What?" She acts surprised by the attention.

"Please tell me that what I think went on in that storage room did not go on," Rory pleads.

"No," Lorelai scoffs. "Not that it would be any of your business if it did, young lady."

"Mom."

"Okay, so it would at least be partially your business because I don’t like to keep anything from you, but you definitely would not get the full and honest truth. That’s just a place I will not go with my teenage daughter."

"Just answer me this. Did anything even remotely harmful really happen to your shoe? In any way?"

"That was a complete lie."

"I thought so."

"I must really get back to the Inn before Michel goes beserk and strangles someone with his outrageously expensive necktie. Tell Luke I said good-bye for me, would ya?"

"Why don’t you tell him yourself?"

"Cause then I would never get back to the Inn," Lorelai quips and Rory groans.

"I thought you said that was a place you wouldn’t go to with me!"

"What did I say?" Lorelai laughs. "You have a dirty, dirty mind," she waggles her finger in Rory’s face and then turns and heads for the door. "Meet me at home for pizza at six? I want to hear all about your first day!" She opens the door and turns back around to face Rory, smiling. "And of course, I want to hear all about-"

"Don’t say it-"

"Newspaper Tristan," she finishes and then skitters away.

"Why does she always feel the need to place something before his name?" Rory asks Lane. "She finally dropped the Evil Tristan, then it was U2 ticket Tristan, and now it’s Newspaper Tristan. I don’t get why he needs an epithet."

"Because it’s fun and highly entertaining."

"Ah." Two cups of coffee and a plate of mozerella sticks are set down on the counter and Rory smiles happily, breathing in the heavenly aroma. "Ahhhh. Coffee."

"That was fast," Lane observes, looking up at Luke.

"Well, somebody had already ordered some of those before you came in so I gave you theirs. They can wait an extra few minutes while I heat a new batch." Luke explains off-handedly.

"You’re just too nice to us. You and mom really should’ve started these mid-day makeouts a long time ago," Rory says just as casually and Luke looks surprised.

"Yeah, well..."

"Just a word to the wise, though, you should learn how to fix a high heel for real some time soon, cause she really does tend to break them a lot."

"Thanks for the advice," Luke replies with a half-smile and then he walks away, going back to the kitchen. Lane turns her attention to Rory.

"So for the paper...what exactly do you want me to do?"

"I don’t know...write a column. Write down all of the stuff you tell me about your latest bands, what music you hate...you know...just be you. You’re good at that."

"At being me? Who else would I be?"

"Cher?"

"I would never be Cher."

"Sonny?"

"I’d rather be Bono than Sonny Bono, thanks all the same."

"You’d like to be a forty-something year old Irish man?"

"Better than being a comic punching bag of the sixties turned senator who is now deceased."

"You got me there."

"So you just want me to write about what I like and dislike. New bands I’m into, cds I’ve recently bought..."

"Exactly. Mary’s going to do the same thing, and Tristan and I are going to review a cd each week in a kind of debate between the sexes."

"You and Tristan are working together, huh?"

"Yes." Rory replies, somewhat tightly.

"You could’ve told him to write a column of his own yet you asked him to work with you. It was you who had the idea, right?"

"I fail to see your point..." Rory mumbles. She takes a mozzerella stick from the plate and looks at it for a moment before taking a bite.

"Are you ever going to tell Dean that Tristan is your friend?" Lane asks suddenly breaking the silence that had fallen. "I really foresee this entire thing blowing up in your face if you don’t bite the bullet right now."

"I don’t know how to tell him without having him get angry."

"Ror, he’s going to get angry no matter what. He’s jealous of Tristan, that’s how it is. But think about it...if you wait to tell him until after you’ve been hanging with Tristan for months and months, it’s going to be like you were hiding it from him, sneaking around. And that’s no way to instill trust."

"I see we’re back to the you giving advice to me scenario."

"Well I’m just too good at it to let the opportunity pass by."

"You think I should tell him tonight?"

"The sooner the better, I think," Lane states, then takes a bite of the cheese stick in her hand. The hot cheese melts out and she struggles with it for a moment, causing both of them to giggle. "This is not working," she mumbles as she pulls the string of cheese apart.

"I don’t recommend ordering these when you’re out with Henry," Rory advises. "It’s not very flattering."

"I’ll keep that in mind."

*******

:So this new girl really seems like she could be a friend, huh?" Lorelai asks, wedging the entire pizza box into the fridge as Rory puts their empty glasses into the dishwasher. Rory nods.

"She’s really nice. As long as she doesn’t have an evil person she’s hiding underneath, I think I may finally have found someone to hang with at Chilton."

"You already have Tristan, don’t forget."

"You won’t let me," Rory retorts. "Tristan was actually really great today, though. I was worried that once we got back to school, something would change, but I think it’s only gotten better."

"And only after one day, you’re singing his praises," Lorelai says, sitting back down at the table and looking up at her daughter. "Imagine after a week. There will be a shrine to Tristan in our living room."

"I was only saying that he surprised me, that’s all. No need to make a big deal out of it."

"I’m not making a big deal. Just reminding you that finding this Mary shouldn’t mean that Tristan is suddenly expendable. I think you two have potential to be really good-"

"Don’t say it."

"I was only going to say friends. You have to stop cutting me off."

"I do so for my own mental health."

" Honey, if you haven’t lost your mind by now I think it’s safe to say it has a pretty good sense of direction. In fact, I could blindfold your sanity, spin it around ten times and it could still pin the tail on the donkey."

"What?"

"And use the bat to break the pinata."

"I think my gene pool is contaminated," Rory tells her mother sadly.

"Well I’m sure your mental health will have no trouble finding a pool boy to clean it. Just make sure to hire a cute one."

"I’ll make sure to tell Senora Sanity to put that qualification in the job ad."

"Your sanity is Spanish?"

"Mexican...with all these donkeys and pinatas, I figured she had to be," Rory shrugs. The doorbell rings and Lorelai looks at her daughter questioningly.

"You expecting anyone? Could be the INS...does your sanity have its papers in order?"

"It’s probably Dean," Rory explains and goes to answer it. Lorelai follows her. "See, Dean." She states, glancing back over the shoulder at Lorelai as she pokes her head into the foyer.

"Any chance you could bust in here and deport Rory’s mental well being?" Lorelai asks him and he looks at her in confusion. "Oh, never mind."0

"Long story," Rory tells him as she steps back to let him inside.

"Rory’s no fun as long as she continues this charade of competence and rationality," Lorelai informs Dean. "I’ve been trying to convince her to come to the dark side. Lunacy is most enjoyable but I guess I’m just going to have to partake its benefits all alone. I shall be in the living room, watching Gilligan’s Island if you need me." She dashes into the living room, leaving Dean and Rory alone.

"She’s...wound up."

"That’s an underestimation." Rory leads the way to her bedroom where Dean plops down on her bed and she sits down at her desk. "She’s still on this post-getting-together-with-Luke high that I’m not quite sure is going to end."

"Well that’s good, isn’t it?"

"Yes, it is," Rory smiles, stopping and realizing for the first time that it truly is. Her mom hadn’t been this giddy and happy in a very long time, and Luke had never smiled so much before in his life.

"So..." Dean starts, gazing at her. "The first day back."

"That it was," she replies, moving around slightly in her chair, trying to get comfortable. "How was everything?"

"Schoolish. Eraser dust, beat up textbooks, boring classes, eccentric teachers...the usual. You?"

"It went okay," Rory wavers, moving her eyes from his.

" Just okay?" Dean inquires, leaning toward her, misreading her behavior as signs that something went badly. "Paris and Tristan bothering you?"

"Paris was mean...but no more mean than anytime before..." Rory shrugs, standing up and walking to her cd player, quickly changing the subject. "What do you want to listen to?" Dean stands up and walks up behind her, looking at her large cd collection. She pops open the lid of her stereo and takes out the disc inside of it.

"Oasis?" Dean chuckles. "I thought you hated them."

"They’re growing on me," Rory says a bit awkwardly. "I just thought I’d give it another chance."

"Why the sudden open-mindedness?"

"No reason..."

"Does this mean I can get you to listen to P.O.D.?"

"I don’t know if I’m that open-minded yet."

"Limp Biskit?"

"Perhaps. If you agree to give James Taylor another chance." Rory holds up the cd case for his greatest hits album.

"Elevator music," he remarks, though good-naturedly. Rory looks crestfallen and sets the cd back down slowly as Dean continues to scan her collection. "Who are The Tragically Hip?"

"Oh, they’re really great. You want to listen to it?" She opens up the case as he hands it to her.

"Sure..." He agrees, hesitant. "Why not." They sit back down on the bed next to each other as the first track begins to play. "So how were your classes?"

"Interesting. My Lit teacher is going to be really harsh this year, which sucks because I was really looking forward to that class."

"He’s a jerk?"

"Not sure yet...he may just be strict."

"What are you reading?"

"Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, by James Joyce."

"I’ve never heard of it...doesn’t sound like too much fun. We have to read A Man for All Seasons."

"That’s excellent," Rory grins. "You’ll like it."

"Maybe...doesn’t seem too good so far, though." Rory can hear the phone ring from out in the kitchen and waits to see if her mom will get it.

"Salute Your Shorts is on Nickelodeon, I’m riveted!" Comes the call from the living room and Rory knows that Lorelai is not moving. She manages to pick it up just before the machine does.

"Hello?"

"Mary."

"Judas."

"You busy?"

"Kind of."

"Can I steal you for a minute?"

"Depends on what you want to talk about."

"I was just wondering if you wanted to work on the He Said She Said tomorrow after school," Tristan says. Rory smiles into the phone, hearing him drumming his fingers against something.

" Trying out for the rhythm section in marching band?"

"Too much caffeine," he replies without a beat. It is so hard to catch him off-guard, Rory thinks to herself.

"You should cut back then."

"Look who’s talking."

"Bad movie. The sequels were even worse."

"Didn’t see them."

"Don’t."

"I file that away in my ‘Useless Information Provided by Rory’ notebook."

"It’s not useless."

"’Fraid it is, Rory."

"No information is useless."

"All right then, miscellaneous."

"That I can live with," Rory concedes. "So, the paper."

"Is tomorrow okay?"

"Tomorrow’s good."

"School, your house, or mine?" Rory ponders Tristan’s question for a moment. "This isn’t Jeopardy."

"Shut up. I was thinking. Can we come here? I’m supposed to field the weekly Henry-Lane phone call."

"Sounds good. I can drive us there right after school," Tristan offers.

"It’s a plan."

"All right. I’ll let you get back to Dean," Tristan says with a smirk in his voice.

"How do you know he’s here?"

"Well isn’t he?"

"Yes." Rory admits reluctantly.

"It was an educated guess."

"See you tomorrow, Jude."

"Yep." Tristan hangs up abruptly and Rory stares at the reciever for a moment, then hangs it up and goes back to her room.

"Who was that?" Dean asks as she sits back down next to him.

"Just someone from school about a project," Rory explains, inwardly debating whether or not to take Lane’s advice and just tell him about Tristan.

"You’re assigned a project already? They don’t waste any time, do they?"

And the window of opportunity closed. Rory decides to let the moment of truth slide until another day.

"No, they don’t," Rory smiles thinly, at a loss for anything else to say. Lorelai appears in her doorway at that moment, much to Rory’s relief.

"Guys! You’ll never believe what they’re playing on tv right now!"

"Some kind of Law & Order spin-off?" Rory guesses.

"Good guess, but no. The Evil Dead! Best B-movie ever! You have to come watch."

"I thought you were watching Salute Your Shorts."

"I flipped during commercials and got distracted."

"We’ll be right there."

"Okay, hurry! The best scene is coming up!"

"You want to go watch?" Rory looks to Dean, hoping that he’d say no.

"You bet. That movie is great," Dean laughs lightly. "I don’t think your mom is going to give us a choice, anyway."

"True."

Turning off the music, Rory and Dean head out into the living room to join Lorelai.

*******

"Is it just me, or does this whole stream of consciousness thing really bite?" Tristan asks as he climbs in the driver’s side, tossing his backpack carelessly into the backseat.

"It might not be so bad if Mr. Redmann wasn’t teaching it," Rory points out as she buckles herself into the passenger’s side. He starts the car, revving the engine twice. "That can wreck your engine, you know," she tells him and she is met with a shrug.

"Never pegged you as a car afficionado."

"I’m really not. Dean told me that once," Rory admits.

"Dean’s into cars?"

"Yeah...he’s actually building me one. Can you believe that?"

"Somehow I can," Tristan mutters, revving the engine again to annoy her. Hitting play on his cd player before backing out of the parking space, Slick Shoe’s "Angel" begins blasting loudly. Rory winces and Tristan chuckles lightly. "Sorry. I always forget to turn it down before I get out of the car."

"Do you think music really sounds better when it shatters your eardrums?"

"Wow, you sounded just like my father," Tristan tells her and she rolls her eyes.

" I’m not giving a lecture about auditory safety, it was a serious question delivered with a small bit of sarcasm."

"Well then, I guess it depends on the song. I don’t particularly think that listening to Phil Collins at volume 10 is going to give anyone thrills, but sometimes," Tristan pauses, glancing sideways at her before continuing.

"Sometimes what?" Rory prompts. He turns his attention back to the road, slowing to a stop as the light before them turns red.

"Sometimes when you find a song that you really like, playing it loud just helps you feel it. You know, it vibrates your entire body. You’ve never pumped up a song you like and just sat there, listening to it, letting it just run through you?"

"Of course I have."

"Then you really didn’t need to ask that question, did you?"

"I guess I didn’t," Rory smiles wistfully, somewhat moved by Tristan’s answer. They look at one another for a moment, locked into each other’s gaze, until a loud horn sounds from behind them. Rory laughs nervously. "Light’s green." Tristan shifts his eyes back to the road, hitting the gas, the faintest blush creeping across his tanned cheeks.

"So, where do I go after I get on the interstate?" Tristan inquires.

"My guess would be straight," Rory smirks and Tristan sighs overdramatically.

"I knew that, I meant what exit am I looking for?"

"12. Do you mind if I put a different cd in?"

"You don’t like this?"

"It’s not that. I’ve just had the same song stuck in my head all day but I can’t remember the words, so I’d like to just listen to it so I at least can drive myself insane with the right lyrics."

"And then I can get the song stuck in my head as well."

"That’s my plan, yes. If I’m going down, I’m dragging you with me."

"Then by all means, pop it in. What is it?"

"The Moffats, Submodalities."

"Put on ‘Just Another Phase,’ I like that one. Don’t put on-"

"’Walking Behind’?" Rory finishes. "Sorry, that happens to be the song that’s plaguing me."

"You’re mean."

"It must have rubbed off on me from hanging out with you."

"Oo, ouch. Every day your insults just grow more cutting. Right to the bone, Mary," Tristan shoots back, merging off onto the exit ramp.

"Just keep an eye out for Monty, smartass," Rory tells him.

"Monty as in Python?" Tristan says, jerking her around.

"No."

"As in Full?"

"As in a giant rooster statue."

"Oh, well that was my next guess," Tristan retorts as if it should’ve been the obvious answer. "I was between that and some kind of farmer who sold rotten fruit by the roadside."

"No, that guy’s name is Bob."

"Oh." Tristan pauses. "I was only kidding."

"I’m not. Though you really have more of a 50/50 chance of getting decent vegetables from Bob. They’re not all bad."

"Good to know. I’ll make sure to check next time I’m driving you home and I feel the need to gamble on the freshness of produce."

Fifteen minutes later, Tristan pulls to a stop in front of Rory’s house.

"And here we are, at the humble abode of Rory Gilmore."

"And her crazy mother, don’t forget."

"Don’t think I ever could," Tristan grins. "Am I safe to assume that you’ll be having coffee and some kind of sugar before we get any work done?"

"Of course," Rory replies. "I made sure we had plenty of both in the house last night. I figured working with you would require extensive amounts of caffeine to dull the pain."

"Why, thank you," Tristan remarks, climbing out of the car and circling to open Rory’s door for her. She’s already out by the time he reaches her. Throwing her backpack over her shoulder, she shuts the car door and gestures toward the house.

"Mom, are you home?" Rory calls as she opens the front door, fully prepared for an assult of hyper-activity. She had been excited to find out that Tristan would be coming over after school and Rory expected her to leave work early just to maximize her harassment time. But the house is silent. She moves into the foyer and drops her bag to the ground and heads toward the kitchen. Tristan follows her slowly. "Guess she’s not home yet." Rory sets about to make a fresh pot of coffee, dumping the leftovers from that morning into the sink. She gets out two mugs and sets them on the counter.

"Actually, Rory, can I just have some water for now? I don’t really want any coffee," Tristan says and Rory looks at him strangely. "It’s perfectly normal to drink something other than coffee, you know."

"Not in this house," Rory retorts, but puts one mug back into the cupboard. She goes to the fridge and grabs a bottle of water. "Here, catch." She tosses it to him and he catches it with one hand. Rory goes back to putting the coffee filter in as Tristan unscrews the bottle cap and takes a long sip of the water. Rory glances at him out of the corner of her eye, watching the muscles in his neck move as he swallows. He finishes drinking and Rory quickly diverts her attention back to the task at hand. Closing the lid and pressing the start button, Rory turns to Tristan with an expectant look. "So what do you want to start with?"

"Why don’t you tell me," he counters, leaning against the doorframe of the entryway. "You’re the editor."

"But I wouldn’t be editor of anything if you hadn’t given me the chance," Rory points out. Tristan stares at her in pretend shock.

" I just handed you a golden opportunity to boss me around and give me orders and you completely missed it," Tristan tells her. "I would’ve thought you’d enjoy such an event."

" I’m too busy being insecure about my own attempts at success to worry about etching away at your ego," Rory replies honestly. "At least today," she adds.

"Okay then..." Tristan starts, stepping toward her. "Let’s decide one thing at a time. What do you want to write our first article about?"

"I’m not sure. I am between reviewing the new Incubus cd or having a debate about the resurgance of hard rock in the past two years."

"Either one would be better than a discussion about which is better, ‘N Sync or the Backstreet Boys, so whatever one you want to do is cool by me."

"My grandma calls them the Backside Boys."

"At least she’s trying to keep up with popular culture," Tristan chuckles. "My grandfather’s knowledge of music stops at Frank Sinatra and Bing Crosby. And my parents don’t listen to any music besides classical."

"Then you have my mom who insists on listening to every cd that passes through the doors of this house," Rory says, taking a bag of chocolate chip cookies down from the cupboard. She opens them up, thinking to herself for a moment. "Do you think we should start off with the cd review and do the other topic next week, when we have more time? Or do you think it’s more important to have the more impressive topic in the first issue...?"

"I personally think that more students will pick it up to read about Incubus than a debate over movements in record sales and popular taste, at least at first. If we start off with something that makes them read it once, then they’re more likely to read it next week when the great but not as obviously interesting stuff is in it. And then once everyone realizes that they want to read stuff like that, then we’re set."

"You sound like you’ve actually thought about this type of thing before."

"Yeah, I guess..." Tristan shrugs, not able to think up a cocky answer. Rory is a bit baffled by his modesty.

"So, Incubus it is, then."

"You have the cd, right?"

"Bought it last weekend," Rory pours the coffee into her mug and picks up the cookies with her other hand, then nods toward her bedroom. "Let’s go put it in and see what happens from there."

"Okay," Tristan agrees, taking the cookies from her as she almost drops them. He walks into her room, interested in seeing it for the first time. Trying not to be obvious, Tristan looks around, taking it all in. Everything about it was Rory, from the pale yellow walls to the posters of far-off places, the stacks upon stacks of books to the countless photos of her family and friends on her desk and dresser. He sits down on the edge of her bed and takes another sip of his water as she sets her coffee down and then puts on the cd. The song Nice to Know You begins to play and he leans back, laying across the width of her bed, his head dangling off of one side and his feet off the other. He doesn’t have to look at Rory to know that she’s surely giving him a curious look.

"What are you doing?" Rory asks after a moment of silence.

"I’m listening, what does it look like?" He informs her. "This is really the best way to pay attention." Rory watches him, finding his behavior odd but endearing.

"Doesn’t all the blood rush to your head like that?" She questions, walking over and stopping next to his head, looking down at him.

"A little, but it’s not too bad. Give it a try."

"No thanks." Tristan smiles as he grabs her hand, pulling her down toward the bed. She lands half on top of him, a giggle of surprise escaping her lips.

" Dork," Rory mutters as she squirms off of him, nevertheless rolling over and laying on her back next to him. "This is the best way to listen, huh?"

"Definitely. But you have to be quiet."

"Then stop talking," she answers. Tristan doesn’t reply. "Wow, you actually listened."

"Hey, shut up," Tristan says, laughing lightly. Rory rolls her eyes at him and finally lets the silence settle, the music the only thing on her mind.

*******

"How many times are you going to play that song?" Lorelai asks, annoyed, as she stands in Rory’s doorway, clearly in the midst of getting ready to go somewhere. She looks down at the two teens, who are still laying in the same position that they were two hours ago.

"Until we know it inside out, backwards and forwards," Rory mumbles. "Until I can think of something to write, until we get inspired."

"Tristan, please give me a better approximation."

"What she said."

"I thought you were past the evil thing," Lorelai glares at him, half-joking. "But seriously now, kids...I used to like Incubus. Now, after hearing the cd three times through in a row and sitting through 11am about ten times...uh, not so much."

"Sorry, Mom. Just give us a few more minutes."

"In a few a minutes I’ll be going out with Sookie, so...nevermind. I was just hoping for a little bit of non-music peace before I go, that’s all."

"We can pause it until you leave," Rory sits up, hits pause on her stereo remote control, then lays right back down.

"Thank you, thank you, thank you," Lorelai makes a worship gesture with both her hands and turns, going back to the bathroom to finish getting ready. Tristan and Rory lay there in complete silence, the only sounds being their slow, even breathing and the hairdryer blowing in the bathroom. All Tristan can think about is how badly he would like to just pull her into his arms; her body is already so close. With the absence of the music, Rory’s mind turns to Tristan, his closeness playing into her thoughts as well. Except for Dean, she’s never really hung out with a guy, and had certainly never laid next to one on her own bed for an entire afternoon. The fact that she probably would not be doing this with any other guy besides Tristan finally dawns on her.

"Hey Tristan?" Rory finally breaks the silence, turning her head toward him.

"Yeah, Rory?" Tristan replies, still staring at the ceiling. Rory studies the angles of his face, the defined line of his jaw, for a second before speaking.

"We are really friends now, aren’t we?"

"You’re not sure?" Tristan asks, turning his head and finding himself looking straight into her baby blue eyes. He swallows hard. Rory slowly shakes her head no.

" Before now, not really."

"Why weren’t you?"

"I just thought that one day I’d wake up and realize that it was all a dream or something...or that something would happen and you’d go back to how you were. We’d go back to how we were."

"Not gonna happen," Tristan tells her.

"I know," Rory murmurs, closing her eyes for a moment.

"Ror?"

"Yeah-huh?" Rory’s eyes flicker open and Tristan smiles gently.

"Why’d you ask me that?"

"I just...wanted to make sure," Rory gives him a small shrug. "I’m glad we’re friends."

"Me too." Tristan watches her eyes drift closed again, a glimmer of a smile toying with the edges of her mouth. Letting out a long, deep breath, he looks back up at the ceiling.

Lorelai stumbles out of the bathroom, trying to pull a thin sweater over the black tank she has on while simultaneously trying to put on her shoe. There is a knock at the front door and Lorelai gives up on the sweater, putting on her second shoe and going to answer it. Throwing it open, she turns back around and immediately starts putting her sweater on again.

"Thank god you’re finally here, Sookie. Rory and Tristan have been in that room all afternoon, playing the same cd, it’s making me crazy. I am so ready for a girl’s night-" Lorelai finally pulls the clingy sweater over her head and turns back to the doorway. She stops in her tracks, her face falling. "Out." Mustering a smile, she steps toward the person waiting on the porch. A person who, at the moment, doesn’t look too happy. "Dean. Well...hi."

To be continued...

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