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 Ten: Paging Mr. Darcy

"It's really times like these that I wish we had a fireplace. Or one of those tv fireplace video thingys, at least," Lorelai states, gesturing toward the television set with one outstretched hand while snuggling in closer to Luke with the other. "Wouldn't that make this moment absolutely perfect? Maybe we can turn up the heat in the house and have Rory come in here and flicker the lights a bit."

"Yes, that would be exactly like having a fire. No one would be the wiser," Luke chuckles, tugging the faded knit afghan back up around Lorelai's shoulders.

"Though, we wouldn't be able to make s'mores..."

"You shouldn't eat them anyway, they'll rot your teeth."

"I think you missed your calling as a children's television show host. What do you think? Trade in your plaid shirts and get cardigans? You can be the next Mr. Rogers," Lorelai suggests, patting his chest playfully.

"Ah yes, my lifelong dream."

"I think it'd be amusing to see."

"Yeah, if you wanted to see a couple of annoying rugrats get thrown out of my living room every day, I think that'd work out real well."

"That makes me glad that you weren't living here when Rory was young."

"Rory's the exception to the rule."

"Oh, she gets immunity from your blanket hatred of children? I'm sure she'd be glad to know. I'd go tell her right now except I'm *far* too comfortable. In fact, I think I might just stay here forever."

"I think my arm might have a problem with that," Luke mumbles, shifting his arm slightly underneath Lorelai's body. She lifts her head from his shoulder, wincing.

"Oh, did I make it fall asleep again? I hate that needly tingly feeling." She pulls away from him, sitting on the edge of the couch and twisting to grab his arm. She massages it a little, glancing up at Luke after a moment. "Better?"

"Much, thanks," Luke tells her, though it's obvious he's just placating her. "I'm going to make some tea. You want some?"

"I'd like some coffee, if that's what you meant to ask."

"No, I meant to say tea."

"Oh." Lorelai screws up her face in disgust. "Well then, no. Maybe we should go make some anyway though, I really should check on Rory."

"I haven't heard anything."

"Exactly. That means they're doing something besides talking..." Lorelai shimmies off the couch and stands up, offering Luke her hand. "Come on, dear Lucas, let us go meander into the kitchen and so very non-chalantly peek in on the darling couple."

"I'm sure Rory won't see through that."

"*So* not the point. She's my daughter. I'm supposed to have some lame excuse to go check on her when she's alone in her room with her boyfriend and she's supposed to see right through my pretenses and get annoyed and then we laugh about it forty years from now. Even though by then I'll be so senile I won't know what she's talking about and just laugh because I'm batty," Lorelai explains to Luke as he follows her into the kitchen. She walks ever-so-innocently past Rory's door, pausing as if a thought had just occurred to her. "Rory, Tristan, Luke and I are making some tea. Would you like anything?"

Rory and Tristan, who are sitting just as innocently on Rory's bed, doing homework, look up at her, apparently startled.

"Oh, no thanks, Mom...Tristan?" Rory turns to him, and he shakes his head no.

"I'm good...but thank you very much for the offer," Tristan gives her a smile, which she amiably returns before turning and walking across the kitchen to Luke. He's standing at the stove, putting the kettle on.

"See, they were behaving themselves," Luke says. Lorelai gives him a look that seems to shout "How dense are you?"

"Poor, poor Luke. You have much to learn," Lorelai shakes her head. "She heard me coming. They were totally making out in there two seconds ago," she half-whispers, taking the kettle from him.

"How do you know that?" Luke retorts. "What are you doing?"

"We don't actually have to make the tea, Luke, it was just a front," Lorelai tells him as she pours the water back into the sink. "And just trust me, I've had a lot of experience. I know what pretending you weren't making out looks like." Luke reaches out and takes the kettle back from her.

"Hey, maybe I really did want some tea?"

Lorelai stops, momentarily dumbfounded.

"Oh. Right. Well, you sure you want tea? I think you really want some nice, sugary, unhealthy soda? Perhaps some extra-rich hot chocolate?"

"Lorelai..."

"Luke..." She grins at him, leaning in and giving him a short but sweet kiss. She goes to pull away but Luke insistently brings her back to him. She smiles against his lips and lets him deepen the kiss.

A small cough causes them to break apart. Rory is standing by the kitchen table.

"Sorry, I just came in to see if I left one of my notebooks out here," Rory informs them, pausing before returning to her room, mostly closing her bedroom door. Lorelai looks up at Luke, cocking an eyebrow. She points to Rory's door.

"See? What I said before? Resentment of my check-up. That was payback. And a suave attempt to casually close her door. She is getting good."

"She learned from the master."

"The apprentice has not surpassed the master, however. Need I point out that Darth Vader got all cocky with Obi Wan only to be thwarted by my man Obi's wisdom-"

"Your man Obi?"

"You must remember that Alec Guiness Obi was once Ewan MacGregor Obi. In Star Wars time, anyway, because in our time...it would really be the other way around, because of the whole 4-5-6 then 1 and 2 thing..." Lorelai is distracted by the thought for a moment, then refocuses. "But that's not the point."

"What is the point? That you're a closet Star Wars freak?"

"It's a fine set of films, but I'm certainly not about to go line up for tickets a year in advance or go to, say, a big huge convention full of fellow, desperate fans. Like I'm sure someone in this room might do if, oh, I dunno... Star Trek came to town."

"I was 11! Let it go."

"Never. But to get back to my original point here," Lorelai restarts.

"Please enlighten me."

"Vader thought he was hot stuff, but in the end he was really just an ugly old bald guy with lots of scars and the gayest son in the universe. I mean, everyone else in the galaxy was fine with it, but Vader was more than likely not too cool with having a light-in-the-space-combat-boots son. I'm surprised the sandstorms on Tatooine didn't blow that boy away."

"Since when was Luke Skywalker gay?"

"Oh please. 'Han, can you reach my lightsaber?' Biggest come on ever." Lorelai responds, heading toward Rory's room once agian. She opens the door halfway, just in time to see Rory pull away from Tristan's embrace. "Hey. Compromise. Halfway."

Rory looks at her for only a second before nodding.

"Deal."

"And don't think I don't have a sixth sense about these things," Lorelai shakes a warning finger at her daughter and her boyfriend. "I know all and see all."

"Yes, we know, you're an omniscient goddess. But really, we weren't doing anything bad."

Lorelai eyes them both with over-dramatic suspicion, backing out of Rory's bedroom slowly.

"Because I'm in the Christmas spirit, I'll give you the gift of benefit of the doubt. Luke and I will be in the living room." Lorelai exits, leaving Tristan and Rory to their own devices.

They smile at one another, Tristan reaching out and running his hand through Rory's long brown hair. His hand continues over her shoulder, down her arm, to the curve of her bottom, which is where he stops and gently pulls her body closer to him, bringing her half into his lap.

"We have about what...twenty minutes before she comes back?" Tristan asks, kissing her softly on her neck.

"Fifteen, tops." Rory murmurs. "Though we should probably at least study a little before you have to go home. We do have end of semester exams coming...up...oh...wow...um, okay. You're going to have to stop that..." Rory's eyes flicker open and closed as Tristan tenderly worships the spot on her graceful neck that he had long since discovered drove her mad. She loses the battle and her eyes drift closed; all she can hear is the quiet strains of Coldplay's "Beautiful World" echoing from her stereo, the sound of Tristan's lips pressing to her skin, their breathing, and the faint sound of Luke and her mother talking in the other room. Tristan's fingers unbutton the bottom button on her shirt so he can touch her warm stomach, and she quickly forces his hands away. "Yeah, stop right now." She orders him, though her voice is not forceful at all.

Tristan kisses her on the lips, letting his hands roam over her thin jean-clad legs as he tugs her fully onto his lap. She circles her arms around his neck, smiling as he pulls away.

"Speaking of the end of the semester...what do you have planned for winter break?" He inquires.

"Apart from having our usual holiday movie marathon and gorging ourselves on enough junk food to kill a small family of elves, not much. Just the town Christmas pageant, dance and festival, Lane's family's Christmas service, dinner with my grandparents, New Year's party at Sookie's...and mine and my mother's early morning Christmas and New Year's rituals..."

"Oh, is that it?" Tristan laughs. "So what are the early morning rituals?"

"On Christmas morning, my mom drags me out of bed at the ungodly hour of six am, we go for a snow walk, make snow angels, throw snowballs at Doose's Market's windows, go home, open presents, then go to Luke's for breakfast where she bugs and badgers him until he gives in and joins us and Sookie for dinner. Which I guess she won't have to do this year. I would think."

"And New Year's?"

"That's when I drag her out of bed, with a list of resolutions...things to do, projects to get started on...we actually go out and start running errands, then my mom says she needs to go to Luke's for coffee, where inevitably we run into Lane, who is always wiped out from her family's church-going and such. So we go rent movies and Lane eats enough bad, fattening food to make her strong enough to eat tofu for a week, then we all end up asleep in the living room by two o'clock in the afternoon. It's great."

"It sounds great."

"What do you usually do?"

"Well, for Christmas, my parents go to visit my brother in England. Sometimes I go with, sometimes not. Last year I spent Christmas with our maid and butler, Antoine and George. It was really nice, no joke. Quiet and peaceful," Tristan adds on hastily, seeing the dismayed look on Rory's face. "For New Year's my father throws an annual party, which your grandparents always come to, actually. There, I usually down more champagne than someone my age ought to, tug at the bowtie of my tux as it takes on a life of its own and begins to strangle me, glare at my mom as she pulls a Samantha and flirts with the bartender while my dad talks business all night. Then I go up to my room as soon as the ball drops."

"That's so sad."

"No it's not, it's just the way things are," Tristan shrugs. "I mean, I didn't bring it up so we could have a pity party for me. I've got it better off than half the kids in our school. The reason I brought it up was to see if maybe you wanted to spend the holidays together..." Tristan murmurs into Rory's ear, his fingers reaching out and twining with hers in their laps.

"What did you have in mind?"

"My family's lodge in Vermont. We could go skiing." Rory outright laughs, pulling away from his butterfly kisses.

"You really think that I could ski? Could you see that? I'd kill myself," Rory giggles.

"I could teach you."

"I am unteachable. The way that I play sports is very much the Daria method. Jump out of the way if the ball comes in your direction. It works wonderfully." Tristan looks a bit disappointed. "Besides, you really think that my mom would let you take me to your ski lodge in Vermont? It's been almost two months since the 'incident' and she checks on us every fifteen minutes to make sure we're not pawing each other."

"But we *are* always pawing each other," Tristan chuckles, his hands once again on her legs. "And yet she still seems to be warming up to me."

"She'd have to be a tropical paradise in order for this trip to take place. Maybe next year," Rory assures him, and this thought brings a smile upon his face rather than a frown. Rory furrows her brow. "What?"

"You said next year. You're thinking about next year already. With me."

"Oh my god, you're such a girl," Rory laughs, smiling teasingly.

"I'm what? I'm a girl?" Tristan tips her backward onto the bed, wrinkling her notes and books underneath her as he lands on top of her. "How am I a girl?"

"Cause you're getting all sentimental about me making plans. Such a girl. You might as well be reading Judy Blume."

"You're harsh," Tristan mumbles, his laughter subsiding.

"Tough as nails, baby," Rory responds, tipping her head upward as Tristan's lips descend on hers, his tongue surging into her mouth. She's instantly reminded that Tristan DuGrey is very much not a girl. Rory sinks into her mattress, reveling in the feel of his masculine body laying atop hers, the stubble on his chisled face brushing against her soft skin as he kisses her deeply, his broad strong hands searching her body for just the right resting place. She can feel herself slipping into the now familiar territory of weakness, feeling her willpower slipping away like sand through her fingers.

"Oh god," Tristan mutters as Rory kisses him passionately, wishing that this could last longer.

But she knows that fifteen minutes will be up sooner rather than later. Smiling as a thought comes to her, she breaks away from Tristan's lips, laughing softly.

"Are You There, God? It's Me, Margaret," She simpers and Tristan stops instantly, looking down at her.

"Oh, that's it," he laughs, tackling her, tickling her furiously. Rory shrieks with laughter, unable to stop herself. She scrambles to get away, but Tristan has her firmly in his clutches.

"Ahhh!" Rory shrieks, laughing so hard it made her sides hurt. "Stop, oh my god, stop!"

"Not until you say uncle."

"Never!" Rory cries out, once again trying to get away. Tristan pulls her back toward him, pnning her onto the bed. Lorelai opens up Rory's bedroom door to find Tristan on top of her daughter, both of them laughing hard and wildly out of breath.

"What is going on in here?"

"Your daughter needed to be tickled."

"Everyone always says that! But no one ever tells me why," Lorelai shrugs, shaking her head.

"I called him a girl-"

"And for that she needed punishment," Tristan cuts her off.

"A girl? Tristan, something you want to tell us?" Lorelai is amused. Tristan shoots an exasperated look at his girlfriend, still underneath him.

"You *had* to tell her. I'm never going to hear the end of it now."

"You're the one who had to tickle me," Rory grins wickedly. Tristan lets go of her and she scoots out from underneath him. She sticks her tongue out at him playfully and he makes a face back.

"Okay, you two, if you want to stop acting like first graders, Luke and I ordered pizza and we're going to watch Bull Durham- his choice not mine - if you want to join us."

"Sounds good, we'll be out in a bit," Rory nods, and Lorelai leaves, glancing back once to double check on the pair.

"What if I didn't want to watch Bull Durham and eat pizza, huh?" Tristan asks, raising an eyebrow at Rory.

"Baseball and Susan Sarandon's legs? I know you too well to not know you'd love that," Rory states, cocking a crooked smile at him. "And even if you didn't want to...I could make it up to you. Because tomorrow after school, I have a study date with Mary."

"I thought Mary has jazz band practice on Thursdays," Tristan asks, not catching Rory's drift.

"No she doesn't."

"Yes she does. You've told me that like a million times, cause we can't have newspaper meetings on Thursdays because-" Rory cuts him off, putting her fingers to his lips.

"*No*, she doesn't," she looks into his eyes, moving closer to him, a smile dancing upon her lips. A look of clarity dawns on Tristan's face. "I just thought we could use an afternoon alone. Though if my mom finds out she'll be really mad."

"Well, she won't find out then. Besides...I think she might be slightly fond of me now," Tristan grins. "Maybe."

"Yeah, maybe. Come on," Rory stands up, offering Tristan her hand. He rises from the bed, following her toward the door. When they get close to it, Tristan stops her, shutting the door. He backs her against it, lifting her up off the ground. Rory circles her legs around his waist, falling easily into the passionate, yearning kiss that he lays upon her lips. "Whoa," Rory breathes out, resting her forehead against his as they break apart.

"To hold us both over until you study with Mary," Tristan says, setting her back down on the ground gently. "And nice Keanu impersonation, by the way." He opens the door for her, stepping aside to let her exit first.

"You're terrible," Rory states as she walks into the kitchen.

"And you're beautiful," Tristan responds. Rory stops, a giddy smile alighting upon her demure face.

"You know, sometimes, you just say these things and I don't see them coming at all."

"Behold the power of Cheese!" Lorelai booms as she enters the kitchen, smirking at her smitten daughter. "Tristan, that was one nicely timed compliment. Up there with the best of the best. He's the Maverick of smoothtalkers, this one. Should I cue the Righteous Brothers now or save it for later?"

"Can't, I don't have Goose to sing backup for me. And besides, I was just speaking the truth."

"Indeed you were. Look at this mug. Have you seen anything prettier anywhere in the world?" Lorelai gestures to Rory's face and she blushes, looking down at the floor.

"Hey, could we stop discussing me and my...whatever?" Rory pleads.

"We could...but then we wouldn't get to see you turn that lovely shade of pink. I think my bedroom used to be that color. Hmmm. Another thing to add to the list of complaints against my mother."

"Hey, we were just talking about Grandma and Grandpa."

"You were talking about your *grandparents*? My, makeout conversation sure has changed since I was a teenager. If I had mentioned my grandparents when I was...well, I probably wouldn't have you, kiddo!" Lorelai teases. Rory rolls her eyes, laughing lightly.

"I guess they always go to the DuGrey New Year's party. Tristan and I were talking about plans for winter break."

"Whatcha two up to?" Luke inquires, coming into the room.

"Oh, we don't know yet...we were just throwing some ideas around. Nothing definite," Rory stumbles nervously and Lorelai gives her a quizzical look.

"Well let me know if you have anything definite, will you?" Lorelai pokes her daughter in the arm. Rory is saved from further inquisition into the matter by the doorbell ringing. "Oh, Joe's here! Pizza, pizza, pizza! I'm hungry enough to eat a whole *box* of Scooby Snacks."

"And you didn't even have to smoke up," Luke replies, turning back around and heading to the foyer.

"I don't like knowing the Shaggy was a pothead. It totally re-colors all my childhood memories of that show," Rory whines, pouting.

"Makes you think, though. Were there really any ghosts at all? Or were they all hallucinations from doing acid or 'shrooms? The whole thing could've been drug induced. Perhaps Scooby didn't even talk," Tristan theorizes. Rory's frown deepens.

"You're going to make Rory cry," Lorelai laughs as Luke returns with the food.

"That kid needs to cut his hair," Luke mutters, returning with the pizza.

"Oh, I like the whole Carrot Top thing Joe has going on," Lorelai counters. Luke sets the pizza on the table and Lorelai flips open the lid, her stomach growling. "Delicious food...Pizza, how I love thee, let me count the ways...

While Lorelai starts her poetic motions, Luke, Rory and Tristan all reach in and take a piece of the pizza. Lorelai scowls.

"You don't want to hear all the ways?"

"Later," Rory mumbles with a mouth half full of food, gesturing with her elbow toward the living room. "Let's go start the movie."

"You took the piece with the dough bubble...I love the dough bubble..." Lorelai pouts to Luke, who hands it over. Lorelai grins ear-to-ear. "I love you," Lorelai kisses him and then dashes off to join Rory. Tristan and Luke exchange looks.

"Nothing says I love you more than giving up the dough bubble," Tristan smirks. Luke shakes his head, sadly.

"They're crazy. Completely nuts."

"Hurry up! You're missing Susan Sarandon's legs!" Lorelai shouts from the living room.

Tristan and Luke exchange looks once more.

"Can't miss that."

"Nope."

They're met with knowing, expectant grins as they enter the room.

"We forgot to get drinks..." Rory starts sweetly. Tristan laughs.

"My turn," Tristan spins back around and goes to the kitchen, knowing he should have seen that one coming.

*******

Lorelai takes another bite of the pheasant that is on her carefully arranged, meticulously decorated china plate and forces a smile at her mother. Emily sits at the end of the table, eating her green beans one by one. Lorelai switches her gaze to her daughter, who looks worn out.

"Rory, you're barely eating anything. Are you feeling okay?" Lorelai asks, concerned, though secretly slightly happy at finding a new topic of conversation. Her mother making a thoughtless comment about the manner in which she had started to eat her pheasant had left a lull in the polite chit chat.

"Yes, Rory, dear, you haven't even touched your food. Is everything all right?"

"Do you have a stomachache? Gisele can get you a cup of gingerale if you'd like," Richard chimes in, worried.

"Gisele? I thought your new maid was named Amelia," Lorelai is momentarily distracted from her daughter, surprised that her parents had yet again not bothered to learn their own maid's name.

"Oh, Amelia was gone by Sunday," Emily states as if Lorelai shouldn't have even had to ask. "This one is named Gisele."

"Obviously. Well, Rory, would you like *Gisele* to get some gingerale for you?" Lorelai inquires.

"No, really, I'm okay. I'm just tired. It's been a long week at school."

"Yes, with exams coming up, I imagine all of your time is spent studying."

"Not that she needs to worry about that, with her intelligence," Richard states proudly.

"Still, it is better safe than sorry," Emily points out.

"Well of course. Rory is responsible enough to know that. She always puts her schoolwork first."

"Did I say she didn't, Richard?" Emily snipes, finding fault in his tone.

"I didn't mean to imply that you had said anything of the sort, Emily."

"Ror, you sure you're not feeling sick?" Lorelai asks, hopefully this time.

"I'm really fine," Rory states, spearing a green bean on her fork. "So, Grandma, Grandpa, what are your plans for Christmas?"

"We're having our usual party, dear."

"There would be an outrage if we didn't," Richard chortles, pleased at the thought. Emily joins him in an amused smile.

"And yes, Lorelai, I am making the apple tarts. I'll even prepare an extra plate for you to take home."

"Why, Mother, I could kiss you right now," Lorelai replies and Emily gives her a tight smile, the kind she reserves for the many occasions in which she can't tell if Lorelai is joking or not.

"And for New Year's?" Rory continues her questioning, still playing with the green bean on her fork.

"We usually go to the DuGrey's. Why, I suppose we'll see you there this year, won't we? How darling. Our first New Year's with our granddaughter, Richard."

"You know, Rory, that's the second time you've brought up your grandparents' plans this week. Something on your mind?" Lorelai gives Rory an inquisitive look. Rory shrugs.

"No, no reason."

"It really is a pity that we never get to spend New Year's Eve together, Lorelai. But you're always off doing something else."

"Hey, you just said you always go to the party at the DuGrey's, so who is the one off doing something else?" Lorelai retorts, smirking.

"But Rory, we will see you, will we not?" Richard looks to his granddaughter expectantly.

"Oh, um...I don't know..."

"Why not? Something didn't happen between you and Tristan, did it?" Emily is alarmed.

"No...no. It's just we haven't talked about our plans yet."

"But you told me just the other night that you had been discussing it," Lorelai points out, putting Rory on the hot seat. Rory looks between both her grandparents, who await her answer.

"We were...I mean, not really...we didn't really get into it that much..." Rory stumbles. "I guess we were throwing some ideas around. That's all."

"Well, I hope one of those ideas was going to his parents' party, because we would love to see you there. And Tristan too. It would be the absolutely picture perfect way to start off the New Year. And just think, Lorelai, you could spend the New Year's with Lucas."

"It's Luke, Mom. And Rory and I have a tradition. A very long tradition."

"Perhaps it's time to make a new tradition. And speaking of Luke, where is he tonight?"

"Same place he is every Friday, Mom. At the diner. It's a busy night, how many times must we have this conversation where you pretend not to know why he's not here just so you can make a rude comment about him working instead of eating with you and Dad?"

"Until he realizes that that diner can survive a night without him, and that eating a weekly dinner with his future family is more important than work, that's how many times," Emily lays it out simply. Lorelai drops her fork to her plate.

"Future family? Mom, you're not putting the cart before the horse, you're putting all your eggs in one basket and then having the horse and the cart run over them. And because of that, none of the chickens you've already counted will hatch!" Lorelai exclaims.

"I'm just saying what everyone already knows, Lorelai. It's only a matter of time until you two take the next step. We all know it, I've accepted it, your father has accepted it, the least the man could do is give us a little common courtesy."

"Rory. Dear. Are you *positive* that you're all right?"

"Hm-hmmm."

"Not feeling a headache coming on? Your stomach turning?"

"Nope."

"You don't have to lie, Rory. It's okay if you need to go home. Your grandparents won't be upset."

"For goodness sake, Lorelai, leave the poor girl alone. Rory says that she feels fine. Therefore, she is fine until she says otherwise," Richard says.

"I'm just trying to let her know she can say otherwise if she wants to. Say, like, right now. Because if she doesn't, I might have to tell the both of you about the darndest thing that she and Tristan were doing last Saturday night-" Lorelai slaps her knee in overdone joy, laughing at the thought. Rory's eyes bulge.

"Ow! Oh! Oh god. Cramps. Cramps." Rory clutches her stomach.

"See, she's not feeling well after all. Time to go home."

"Oh, honestly, Lorelai. You think it's funny to make your daughter lie for you?"

"No, really, cramps. Ow!" Rory stands, still clutching her stomach and hobbling toward the door. Lorelai is already ahead of her.

"You haven't even had dessert!" Emily exclaims, exasperated.

"We really should get home, you see how much pain she's in. Thanks for dinner!" Lorelai calls as she and Rory hurry out the door. Emily tosses her napkin onto the table, looking across at her husband, who is equally dismayed.

"The nerve of that girl, Richard, I don't know why we bother."

"Perhaps you shouldn't have pressed the idea of marriage on her, Emily. We both know how she feels about that *particular issue*." Richard's disapproval of Lorelai's stance is evident in his voice.

"Well if someone doesn't nudge her in the right direction, we'll never have a son-in-law, or more grandchildren."

"Rory is just fine by me," Richard states.

"Me too, I just..." Emily sighs, letting her thought fade away. "What do you suppose Lorelai meant by that comment?"

"What comment?"

"About Tristan and Rory doing something on Saturday night."

"I don't think we'd want to know, Emily," Richard shakes his head. Emily's face crinkles with worry, then furrows tighter in frustration.

"Oh, that girl. Lorelai is going to make me go insane. Gisele! Gisele! May we have dessert please?" No answer. "Gisele!" Still no answer. Emily slides her chair back harshly and gets up, heading to the kitchen. "What do you have to do to get decent help these days? It's impossible, Richard, I swear it." She leaves, and Richard sighs. He picks up the paper from next to him and opens to the classifieds.

"Good-bye, Gisele..."

*******

Lane hunkers down into her secret closet hideaway, turning up the volume very carefully on her stereo. She digs out a can of Red Bull and hands it to Rory, then opens one for herself.

"So, Henry asked me to spend Christmas Eve at his house, with his family."

"Really?" Rory smiles widely. "That's so exciting."

"It is, isn't it? Of course I can't go, but it was nice that he asked, right?"

"That's definitely all that matters. And maybe you could see each other at least for a little while?" Lane shakes her head no. "Talk on the phone?"

"If he calls at the appropriate time. My mother has a chart."

"Oh dear. Has it gotten worse?"

"Worse in some ways, better in others. I mean, I'm going out with Henry now, with my mother's approval, which is what really counts, right? She thinks it was all part of her own brilliant plan, and that she tricked me into liking him...which I have Lorelai to thank for-"

"And I believe you've thanked her every time you've seen her for the past two months."

"Have I? I'm just so happy about it I get a little overenthusiastic, I guess."

"I hadn't noticed."

"Hey, if you make fun of me, I'm going to make fun right back, so watch out."

"What do you have to make fun of me about?" Rory asks, unwrapping a small piece of chocolate that's supposed to look like Santa Claus.

"Your gushy eyed state of lovey-dovey ooey-gooey-ness, that's what."

"Please don't ever say those words again...please. That was disgusting." "How are you and Tristan doing, anway? I mean, really. Not in the I-pass-by-you-in-the-street-and-you-wave-hello-between-kisses-how-are-you-doing. I want the real story. I finally have you alone. We haven't seriously talked in awhile."

"We're doing...well," Rory smiles.

"Well? Rory, I need more information than that. I get to see Henry twice a week, supervised. Give me something to live off of here."

"He wants me to go to his family's ski lodge for winter break."

"With his family? Aren't they like, Dynasty or something?"

"Yeah, they are. But they wouldn't exactly be coming with us."

"Who would, exactly...?" Lane presses on, smiling because she already knows the answer.

"No one. Besides us, I mean." She stops Lane from shrieking in excitement, quickly covering Lane's mouth with her hand. "There's no way I can even ask my mom to let me go. I'd have to be crazy. And part of me wouldn't want to miss all of our annual stuff anyway. It would be sad."

"It's just one year, Ror. A ski lodge? With Tristan? Think of it...big crackling fire...snow frosting the windows...Tristan holding you in his arms...toasting marshmallows and drinking eggnog..."

"Eggnog?"

"Okay, no, bad choice. Hot chocolate. Drinking hot chocolate...exchanging gifts..." Lane stops. "Rory, you know what all this means."

"Should I?"

"It's classic. It's the cover of some cheesy teen romance novel. Tristan wants to go to the lodge to...you know...I think he's trying to tell you he's ready."

"Lane, come on. We've both been ready for a long time now. We decided to wait. Don't blow things out of porportion."

"I don't think I am." Rory makes a face at Lane and throws a piece of candy at her.

"He just wants to get away, that's all. Do you know how nice it would be to have it just be us? It's rarely ever just us anymore. We're always being checked on by somebody."

"Hey, welcome to my world," Lane chuckles. "Isn't it fantastic?"

"I don't know how you deal with it, Lane."

"I'm a superhero, what can I say?"

"Wonder Woman?"

"No, I think Dr. Jean Grey. I'd love to be able to move things with my mind. Oo, and read other people's minds? That would rock."

"As long as you could control it. Would you want to know what Miss Patty is thinking?"

"Oh. God. Good point," Lane screws up her face in disgust. "You know whose mind I would like to read, though?"

"Whose?"

"Dean's."

"Oh..." Rory sighs. "Yeah, I guess I would like to read his mind too."

"I can't believe he's dating Tina Edwards. It makes me almost lose my faith in guys. I thought Dean was smart."

"He's still dating her, huh?"

"Yeah. And still avoiding you, right?"

"Ever since the market, whenever I see him, he won't even look at me," Rory frowns. "I deserve it."

"It's probably not even about *that*, Rory. He probably didn't see the condoms. He could very likely just be avoiding you because you chose Tristan over him. And have been with him all over town, like all the time. That's more than enough reasons right there to not want to talk to you."

"Wow, Lane, that was so blunt you could have pulled an Annie and smashed my ankle with it."

"Ah, Misery. I still hate you for making me watch that, by the way. And I didn't mean to be so blunt, I just..."

"It's okay. It's true. That is probably it. And like I said, I do deserve it. I just wish I could talk to him. I feel like he doesn't understand how things really happened."

"Hence Tina Edwards. You know she went out with Greg Fenimore?"

"Poor Dean. I just hope he knows what he's getting into."

"It'll be very much like when Angela realized that Jordan went out with Cynthia Hargrove," Lane observes, nodding as if making a scientific report of a very important fact.

"Man, My So-Called Life sounds so good right now. Especially the episode in the boiler room?"

"Oh, my favorite! Wait a second and I'll dig it out." Lane peeks out the slim crack in her closet doors, then throws them open wildly. She glances both ways, commando rolls across her hardwood floor, and hastily lifts a floorboard up from by her bed. Lifting a videotape from the secret compartment, she dashes back into her hideaway and closes the doors.

"Jordan Catalano, here we come."

"Don't you love how he leans?" Rory quotes, and both girls collapse into a fit of giggles.

*******

"You know, Christmas is only two weeks away," Lorelai tells Luke as they walk mittened hand in hand down Main Street.

"Thanks for pointing that out."

"Not a lot of time left..."

"Not really, but it's not like it's tomorrow, either."

"Oh come on, Luke! Don't you even want a list from me? I have lots of ideas."

"No thanks, I'm all set," Luke waves her off. Lorelai frowns.

"What? You already did your shopping? Please don't tell me I'm getting cat potholders that meow."

"No potholders."

"And how did you already do your shopping? You hate shopping. And you always leave it until the last minute."

"Well this time I didn't."

"You realize that now I'm going to search the house from top to bottom and try to find it."

"What makes you think it's there?"

"Because, like, 87% of your stuff is there now. Why, is it in your apartment? Cause I'll search there too."

"How would you pull that off?"

"I have my ways."

"The only way you'd get into my apartment is if I was with you."

"You can't keep tabs on me at all times. I'm sneaky when it comes to present hunting. And I know where the spare key is. You showed me, remember?"

"Well, fine. But it's not in my apartment."

"Then where is it?" Lorelai whines, stopping at the corner to plead with him.

"You're like a three year old."

"And you're sixty. Must you suck the fun from the holidays?"

"Hey, I decorated the diner this year. I gave into that. What more do you want?"

"Luke, you put up maybe one sign and a few streamers. Even the Grinch would say 'Skimpy!'"

"If the Grinch were a gay interior designer, maybe."

"Well maybe he was. Dr. Seuss never really clarified that for us, did he? So it could swing that way, the option's open."

"I think we should stop discussing the Grinch's sexuality."

"You're the one who brought it up."

"I know. And I don't know why," Luke opens the door to the diner and holds it as Lorelai walks inside.

"It's glorious. I love heat. I don't know how they all survived in that little house on the prairie," Lorelai says, plopping down on a stool as Luke goes behind the counter, taking off his jacket. "Especially with no five-star hotels around to go to at night."

Luke raises an eyebrow at her.

"Troop Beverly Hills? Forget it, it's lost on you. Where's Rory when you need her?"

"Playing kissy-face in the corner."

"What?" Luke gestures with his head as he begins writing something down on his notepad. Lorelai whips around and looks to the back corner of the diner, where her daughter is attached at the mouth to Tristan. She gets up and crosses the room.

"Hey. Ror."

Rory breaks away and looks up, frowning when she sees her mother standing there.

"I thought you were having a meeting with Lane about the Beat this evening?"

"Lane already came and went. We were just..." Rory stops, not sure what words to use.

"Lane was here," Kirk suddenly cuts in, swiveling around in his chair. "She left about ten minutes ago, which is when these two lovebirds here promptly began to show their mutual affection. No one seems worried by it save myself. I'm having some trouble keeping my dinner down."

"Thanks for that, Kirk."

"Glad I could be of help," Kirk nods and turns back around. Lorelai shoots a strange look at him and then refocuses on Rory and Tristan.

"Look, Ror, you guys can kiss all you want to, really. Go for it. But this is a public place and therefore perhaps not the best place for tongue, ya think?" Rory and Tristan both blush faintly and Rory shrinks back into her seat. "Okay, good. I'll be over there with Luke. I'll see you both later."

Rory and Tristan both nervously smile at one another as Lorelai walks away.

"I was expecting the riot act," Tristan admits.

"See, she is settling down," Rory says, taking a sip of her coffee. "I don't think she's as freaked out as she was."

"But she's still freaked."

"Yeah. But it is getting better!" Rory assures him hopefully. "And you know she does like you, despite the fact that I *really* like you."

"Well I *really* like you too," Tristan responds. "Did you think about break?"

"I did. And I was thinking...what if you spent the holidays here?"

"Here? Like in Stars Hollow here?"

"Yep," Rory chirps. Tristan doesn't respond immediately. "What? You don't think it's a good idea?"

"No, it's just...your mom's going to be okay with that?"

"I don't see why not...Sookie makes the best Christmas dinner in the entire world..." Rory pleads. "It'd be fantastic. Come on."

"I'll have to ask my parents...as a courtesy," Tristan clarifies. "But I'd like nothing better than to spend the holidays with you, Rory," he continues, reaching across the table and taking her hand in his.

"All you need here is a dripping candle and you two would be utterly sickening," Kirk cuts in again. They both look at him to find an annoyed and disgusted look upon his face.

"Sorry, Kirk. We'll stop," Rory grins. "You wanna get out of here?"

"Sure, let's go." Both of them stand, lifting their jackets from the back of their chairs. Tristan helps Rory on with hers and then puts on his own. "Many apologies, Kirk." Tristan nods to him as Rory shoves on her matching hat and gloves and heads for the door.

Kirk watches the pair leave and then looks down to his plate, making a face.

"I have completely lost my appetite."

*******

"So, where to now?" Tristan asks as Rory slips her hand into his, stopping to breath in the crisp winter air.

"I love the smell of snow. Doesn't it make you want to just jump in it?"

"Not particularly," Tristan replies, laughing. "Though I have a feeling that's not going to stop you."

"Come on," Rory dashes off across the street toward the park, pulling him behind her. "It's great packing snow. You can't pass that up."

"I think you could," Tristan disagrees, frowning as Rory drops his hand and scoops up a large amount of snow in hers. She pounds and shapes it quickly as Tristan takes off toward the gazebo.

"Chicken! I wasn't going to throw it at you."

"I don't believe that at all."

"And with good reason," Lane chimes in. Tristan whirls around and sees Henry and Lane sitting on the bench inside the gazebo. "Hey."

"Hey, guys. Didn't mean to interuppt, sorry."

"Lane, Henry, hey!" Rory greets them as she runs up beside Tristan, her face flushed pink with cold. "What are you two doing?"

"Sitting and talking, like respectable young adults should do," Lane informs her. "Not running around and having snowball fights. You could go to hell for that, you know."

"Lane's mother has agreed to let us sit in the park without an adult. It is too public for us to do anything inappropriate."

"That's never stopped us," Tristan states and Rory punches his arm lightly.

"She's still checking on us every half hour."

"Why are you wearing bright pink lipstick?" Rory asks, puzzled. Henry laughs and Lane groans.

"Mama made me."

"Your mother made you wear lipstick? Is the apocalypse tonight?"

"So she can tell if Henry and I have been kissing," Lane groans, burying her face in her hands. "It is so embarrassing."

"Henry knows you're worth it. Don't you, Henry?" Rory looks to him, holding up her snowball as a threatening device.

"Yes, I most definitely do," Henry smiles. Rory crushes the snowball back into loose snow.

"Good," she replies, then pauses.

A second later Tristan yelps, jumping up and down and wincing.

"Rory!" The three others burst into laughter as Rory pulls her hand away from the collar of his jacket, having just dumped all the snow down his back. "You're so gonna get it."

"Oh no," Rory backs away slowly, then whirls around and takes off.

"Yes you are!" Tristan yells after her, quickly in pursuit.

"I guess I'm lucky your mom is checking on us. You can't do that to me," Henry teases. Exactly at that moment, a huge snowball hits him right in the side of the head, covering his jet black hair in powdery white. Lane bursts into hysterical laughter as Rory runs up, looking horrified.

"I am so sorry, Henry. I didn't mean to hit you."

"It's okay, Rory," Henry assures her, brushing off his hair and face and smiling. Lane is still laughing. Henry grabs a fistful of snow from the railing of the gazebo and dumps it on her head. Rory starts laughing now, as Lane spits out flakes of snow that had fallen into her mouth.

"You know, Mama's not back for fifteen minutes," Lane states, getting up. "You better run."

"Oh hell," Henry mutters, taking off. Rory and Lane exchange triumphant grins and Lane runs off after her boyfriend.

Rory watches her run away. Her momentary peace is ended abruptly as a snowball hits her square in the back. She turns to look for Tristan but he has already taken cover. She walks in the direction that the snowball had come from, treading carefully as to not fall victim to an ambush.

Tiptoeing between two large oaks, Rory spots Tristan across the path, peering around the corner of some hedges. Knowing he hasn't seen her, she sneaks around the other way and comes up behind him.

"Gotcha!" She exclaims as she tackles him playfully, sending him reeling backward onto the ground. She lands on top of him with a thud, all snow and giggles.

"No, I got you," Tristan retorts, rolling her over easily and pinning her to the ground.

"Oh really?" Rory challenges, flipping him over once again.

"Okay, you've won this battle. But not the war," he warns her jokingly, touching her pink nose with his snowy, gloved finger. They fall silent, catching their breath as they comfortably remain entangled with one another on the ground. Tristan watches Rory's face, her eyes dancing wildly from the excitement of the chase, her cheeks flushed red, her long hair messy and wind blown. Reaching up, he takes off her knit hat and pulls her face down toward his.

Rory's mind reels. She doesn't know why. Maybe it is his ice cold lips slowly warming up against hers. Or perhaps it's their hands clumsily trying to caress one another through their snow-logged gloves. It could once again be the magic of softly falling snow, the Gilmore's very own good luck charm. But whatever the reason, this simple kiss, outwardly not strikingly different than any other kiss they had shared, changed something, somewhere, within Rory. She wanted nothing more than to be laying on the floor in front of some cheeseball crackling fire, making love to Tristan in that perfect, romantic way that is probably nothing like the real thing. At that moment she didn't care that she and Tristan had agreed not to rush things, that she had convinced herself that though she wanted to, having sex was not a good idea.

Right then it seemed like a very good idea.

"I wish we could've gone skiing," Rory murmurs as Tristan's lips leave hers. Tristan laughs lightly.

"But you don't like sports."

"Look how much fun we're having right now, here in the snow. Skiing means more snow. Therefore it seems like a sport that I could learn to pretend to enjoy," Rory explains, smiling as he grins up at her, amused at her answer.

"i wish we were going there too, Ror," Tristan replies, kissing her earlobe lightly as he pulls her close once more. "I want you..." He whispers huskily into her ear. "I want you so badly, sometimes I feel like I'm not going to be able to take it. You were sitting in class yesterday, and you were chewing on your eraser..." Tristan kisses behind her ear, then down her jawline, his tongue darting out to caoture a snowflake that has landed upon her ivory skin. "You can't even imagine how much I wanted to peel off that annoying Chilton blazer, unbutton that silly blouse...and your skirt...Rory, your skirt..." Tristan trails off, opening his eyes to make sure that Rory's are closed.

In an instant he has flipped her over again, pinning her back down to the ground.

"Hey!" Rory cries out, immediately slapping his chest. "You can't do that."

"I told you the war was far from over."

"You didn't say that exactly. And using unfair methods is unacceptable. There are rules of engagement, you know."

"I didn't break any rules," Tristan responds, triumphant. "I was merely telling you what I was thinking yesterday in class. Can I help it if you got distracted? Distraction, misdirection...aren't these the tools of military strategy?"

"And that would make you...what? A military expert? World-renowned general?"

"Oh, of course. I'm just like Alexander the Great," Tristan grins. Rory laughs, shoving him off of her.

"Or Napoleon."

"Hey! I take offense to that," Tristan remarks as Rory clambers up from the ground. He grabs her hand to pull himself up.

"What? Napoleon was a *great* general."

"And also short, in more ways than one. I do not have Little Man Syndrome."

"Then why do you have that sports car? Some say that the need for speed is a macho thing directly related to the overcompensation-"

"I have a sports car because that's just how it is. There's no reason behind it. It could easily be a Volvo," Tristan states matter-of-factly. Rory takes his hand as they walk across the street, heading toward home.

"Oh, so you'd trade in your Camaro for a Volvo?"

Tristan pauses, smiling sheepishly.

"Okay. So maybe I wouldn't. But you've seen my car, Rory. Would you ever trade that for anything?"

"Waterloo! Finally facing my Waterloo!" Rory sings, doing a little dance on the sidewalk.

"Do I hear ABBA?" Miss Patty appears in the doorway to her dance studio. A dozen or so small girls dressed in glittery eskimo suits are huddled in the middle of the dance floor, trying to dance.

"Sorry, Miss Patty, I was just making a point here with Tristan about-"

"Tristan, darling! Long time no see," Miss Patty coos, stepping down from the entrance. "My, my, it is cold out here today. Perhaps you wouldn't mind coming inside and helping us all warm up, would you?"

"Rory and I were actually just heading home, Miss Patty. I'm sorry. Besides, I wouldn't want to disrupt your class," Tristan declines graciously. Miss Patty glances back toward her little dancers.

"Oh, them? Dear, they're just practicing acting cold. I want to give their winter dance routine some feeling, some emotion. I figured keeping the door open for a few minutes or so should help get them into tip top shape."

"And garner a few concerned phone calls," Rory points out. Miss Patty chuckles and waves her off.

"Only Taylor cares about that. We're building character here, we're building talent! These little girls are going to be ballerinas!" Miss Patty throws up one hand dramatically. "They'll all thank me someday." She turns back to Tristan. "You know, this one used to take lessons from me."

"Really?"

"Yes. Poor little thing. Everyone told her she had two left feet...I think she was talented. You could've been great," She sighs deeply. "I still wish I hadn't failed you, dearie."

"Don't worry, Miss Patty. Tristan dances well enough for the both of us," Rory says. Miss Patty smiles widely, clearly getting ready to coo over Tristan once again.

"Don't I know it. He could be the next Fred Astaire."

"I hardly think that knowing a few dance steps qualifies that comparison..."

"Honey, in this day and age? Men who dance are few and far between. Us ladies take what we can get, right Rory?" Miss Patty states. "Now, come here and give me a waltz."

"We really have to-"

"Oh, you can dance one, Tristan. We're not in a big hurry," Rory says. Tristan gives her a questioning look, wondering why she's doing this to him. "Waterloo! Finally facing my Waterloo!" She sings again, giving them both a glimpse at her disco skills. Miss Patty shudders.

"My greatest regret," she murmurs, taking Tristan's hand and leading him inside. He shoots Rory one last pleading look and she giggles. Rory watches as Miss Patty leads Tristan out onto the dance floor, interuppting the young girls' attempts at shivering musically, then walks inside after the pair. "Girls, girls, do we have a special treat tonight. This is our young Mr. DuGrey, and he's going to show you all how to dance, and better yet, *why* we learn to dance. You won't understand the second reason now, girls, but someday you will. Now..." She grabs Tristan's hands and unexpectedly jerks him toward her. "Let's tango."

Rory laughs, amused, and is about to interject and try to save Tristan from this misery when her cell phone rings. Quickly she lifts the flap of her coat pocket and digs it out, fumbling to hit the right button with her mittened finger.

"Hello?" The phone keeps ringing; Rory tries the button again. "Hello?"

"Rory, hey!" Her father's voice comes in after a second of static. "I finally caught you."

"I can't hear you, wait one second," Rory says, making a gesture toward Tristan to tell him she'll be right back. Covering her other ear to smother out the giggling girls, Rory heads for the door.

Once outside, she takes a deep breath and then speaks. "Dad. Hey."

"Hey, you. I thought maybe you fell off the face of the planet."

"No, I'm still here," Rory sighs. "How are you?"

"I've been better. How are you?"

"Great." Her voice is tense and clipped.

"And your mom?"

"Never better," Rory states. She can hear her father sigh now.

"Listen, Rory, I'm sorry about what happened with me and your mom. It was a mistake, I know it. But I can't go back and undo what I did."

"Do you know what you did, Dad? Do you really?" Rory inquires, leaning against the wall of the dance studio. The warmth from inside is beginning to wear off, her winter jacket not quite enough to keep her from feeling the cold. "Because you always do this. You always wait until she's happy and then come back and try to mess everything up."

"I didn't mean to come back and mess everything up, Rory. You know that," Chris states. She can hear the frown in his voice. "That was never my intention. You know how I feel about your mother better than anyone, Rory. Probably better than she does. I was just trying to make her understand. Please don't punish me for this."

"If you really love her that much, Dad, just let her be happy with Luke. She loves him," Rory tells her dad, pausing for a moment before continuing. "And I love him too." Rory lets out another long sigh, her breath turning to fog in the air. "That doesn't mean that he's taking your place."

"It's hard to remember that sometimes, Ror. Especially when you've stopped calling me. It's been two months and I've heard like two words from the both of you."

"We're angry."

"Clearly."

"Dad..."

"Rory, I know you have a right to be. What I did, coming back there like that...it was immature. But I don't think I deserve to lose you over this. Or your mom."

"You're not going to lose me. Just...it's hard to talk to you right now. And it's even harder for Mom."

"I know. Would you tell her I'm sorry? About everything?"

"I'll tell her, Dad. I won't guarantee she'll listen, but I'll tell her."

"Cause I'd like to be invited to the wedding."

"The wedding?"

"When she and Luke get married. I'd really like to be there for that."

"Have you been talking to Grandma?"

"No, why? They're not already engaged, are they?" Chris is obviously panic-stricken at the thought of it happening so soon.

"No..." Rory laughs lightly. "It's just Grandma seems to think that they are. She's making Mom crazy."

"That's Emily. She wouldn't be a Gilmore if she wasn't making someone crazy," Chris chuckles.

"Speaking of making someone crazy, I left Tristan alone with Miss Patty. I should go and rescue him before it's too late."

"Still Tristan, huh? How is that going?"

"Really great," Rory smiles, turning and glancing through the open door to the studio. Miss Patty is trying to get Tristan to dip her; his body looks strained from trying to hold her up. "Fantastic, actually."

"That's good to hear. Has Lorelai mellowed?"

"A little. Tristan's going to spend Christmas with us."

"Really?" The surprise is evident. "That serious?"

"His family takes off to England and leaves him here. I couldn't stand the thought of him having Christmas alone."

"Ah, the upper-class holidays. My parents used to go off skiing and leave me with the nanny," Christopher recalls. "What did your mother have to say about Tristan staying?"

"I haven't actually asked her yet," Rory grimaces. "But I don't see why she wouldn't let him stay with us. She sympathizes with him about his family. It's the one thing they have in common."

"Well, besides loving you," Chris points out. "But the whole world loves you, so that's not too particular."

"Dad..."

"Well you better go save him before Miss Patty decides to keep him."

"Yeah, he looks very frightened right now."

"I love you, Rory. Have a good night."

"You too."

"Please call?"

"I will."

"And tell Lorelai what I said?"

"I will, Dad."

"Good-night, sweetheart."

"Good-night," Rory clicks off the phone and goes inside to retrieve her boyfriend from Miss Patty's clutches.

*******

"I don't think Versace is the right answer to that question, Louise. I don't think he's even mentioned in this entire book about the Renaissance, as a matter of fact. Unless you were reading the Cosmo account of it, that is."

"Frankie says Relax, Paris," Louise responds, looking closely at a chip in her nail polish.

"I like Versace," Madeleine chimes in perkily, earning her a disturbed look from Louise and a glare from Paris. Rory walks into the library and sets her book bag down on the chair next to Paris'. Paris looks up, relieved.

"Finally! Someone who uses their brain for a purpose other than to decide if mint green is a classier color than olive green."

"Excuse me?"

"Olive green is classier, right?" Louise asks Rory. Rory is just puzzled.

"Sure, I suppose so..."

"They've been debating this for the past half hour. Where have you been?" Paris demands, frustrated.

"Where I'd be if I had a boyfriend like Tristan," Louise theorizes slyly, her voice dripping with insinuations.

"I had to talk to Mary about something, I'm sorry."

"Sure you did," Louise says, nodding knowingly. Madeleine smiles along with her.

"What, something about your little paper?" Paris inquires.

"Hey. Friends now? Remember?" Rory points out. Paris shrugs. "And as a matter of fact, it was. We're putting out a special issue this week, about the best music to study to."

"Classical. Helps you concentrate," Paris states. "And speaking of studying, why don't we do some? Or is that too crazy of an idea?"

"I heard Matthew Tomlinson is having an end of exams/Christmas party next week. We should all go," Madeleine chirps.

"And you're two year olds," Paris throws her pencil down on the table.

"Matthew Tomlinson is getting gorgeous...I think he's working out..." Louise grins, lickiing her lips.

"Guys, maybe we should focus," Rory interrupts, seeing the vein on Paris' forehead start to stick out.

"What a novel idea! After all, exams start in a week!" Paris adds. Louise and Madeleine excjhange looks that agree it's time to behave or Paris will have their wardrobes set on fire.

"What have you guys been working on?" Rory asks, pulling out her huge history textbook and thick binder and setting them on the table.

"We were trying to start with the Renaissance and work our way forward. So we're still at the Renaissance, naturally, since Patsy and Edina here couldn't stop-"

"Okay, so, Renaissance. I made flash cards last night."

"Me too," Paris holds hers up. Louise snorts.

"You two seriously need to get out of the house more often."

"Forgive me if I don’t think that following J. Lo’s fashion choices is more important than college, Louise. I don’t know how you stand being around me,” Paris snaps.

“It’s a hard job but someone has to do it,” Louise shoots back, digging out a nail file from her overstuffed purse. “And really it’s not you who surprises me. It’s Rory,” she gives Rory a knowing look. “I would think that with dating Tristan, she wouldn’t have *time* to study…”

“Well we study together,” Rory replies, purposely choosing to ignore Louise’s innuendo. Madeleine doesn’t pick up on Rory’s attempt at naiveté.

“I think Louise meant that you two *don’t* study, that you-“

“She got it, Lucy. Ethel here is pretty obvious,” Paris interjects. “Now, if you two aren’t going to take this seriously, would you please leave?”

“You mean we don’t have to stay here?” Louise asks, surprised. Obviously Paris had dragged them to the study session against their will.

“Mall?” Madeleine suggests.

“Totally,” Louise replies. The two girls gather up their things hurriedly, as if trying to make up for lost time. “See you, Paris.”

“Bye Rory!” Madeleine waves as the pair dashes out of the library, earning a few annoyed looks from other students.

“Unbelievable,” Paris snorts, flipping through her flashcards. “The two of them will rue the day when their rejection letters come in the mail. Do you think they know how to accessorize the *small* envelope?”

“I’m sure they’ll be fine. And if they aren’t, it’s not your fault,” Rory shrugs. “You can’t control what they do.”

“Oh, no, believe me, I don’t feel responsible for them. I’m just completely dismayed at their lack of regard for their own education, that’s all.”

“Speaking of education, you want to…” Rory taps her notebook, and Paris nods.

“Do you feel adequately prepared for the Renaissance period? Because in all honesty, I feel like I’m more rusty on the specifics of the Reformation. We kind of breezed through that in class.”

“Yeah, I thought that too. We could come back to the Renaissance later, after we do everything else?”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Let me get out my notes,” Paris pulls out another huge binder from her bag. “History, volume 2.”

“You have two binders for this class?”

“Three. Over the weekends I do further research into the topics discussed during the week and add my findings to the notes taken in class. I’ve discovered that doing so improves my test scores by 5 points.”

“Paris…maybe Louise is right. Maybe you do need to get out of the house…” Rory says, a bit concerned. Paris rolls her eyes.

“Look, I realize that high school is supposed to be the time of your life, like it’s supposed to be 90210 or something where the main concern is who slept with who at whose party last Friday, but that’s not what I’m interested in. I’d rather concentrate on getting into Harvard and save my fun for after I graduate, when I can travel Europe and meet some fabulous French man named Mathieu who thinks that my serious nature and utter brilliance is the sexiest thing he’s ever seen. And I think that’s far better than going to some kegger. Believe me, I can be patient and wait a few years.”

“You could have both,” Rory suggests meekly, knowing Paris is just going to disagree. “You could have the excellent grades and the fun too. It doesn’t have to be one or the other…”

“We can’t all be you, Rory. I don’t know how you can handle Tristan and maintain your average,” Paris mutters. “God I hate you.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“I don’t really,” Paris sighs, putting her pencil down onto the table with a click. There is a moment of silence before Paris picks her pencil back up, looking at Rory timidly. “How are things going, anyway? With you and Tristan?”

“Weren’t you just yelling at Louise and Madeleine for this?” Rory asks, laughing.

“They just want to know for gossip purposes. So they can dish with Mindy or Biffy or whoever over cappuccinos later tonight. I want to know because we’re friends. Or whatever we are.”

“We’re friends, I guess,” Rory says. “We have managed not to get in a fight for two months now.”

“That’s got to be some kind of a record, right?”

“I think so.”

“So…?”

“So…” Rory doesn’t know what Paris wants to hear.

“Rory, I know you have Lane and Mary to tell this stuff to, all right? But I have to listen to Louise and Madeleine list off the boys they made out with like they’re reading shopping lists. I need someone of substance to assure me that *that* is not romance.”

“It’s not,” Rory smiles.

“And I also need to know that Tristan is…” Paris trails off, not sure how to put it. Rory remembers Paris’ past ultimatum and knows what she’s trying to say.

“Tristan is perfect, Paris. His grades are up, the paper is doing well, and he’s spending Christmas with my family instead of home alone.”

“He’s spending Christmas with you?” Paris inquires, surprised.

“Yeah…”

“Wow. So you two are pretty serious.”

“My dad said the same thing when I told him. I didn't really think about it in terms of seriousness. I just thought we should spend Christmas together."

"A major holiday spent with family is considered serious, Rory."

"I considered us serious before...is this a whole new level of seriousness?" Rory asks, half-joking.

"It is," Paris responds sternly. "And you know, what I told you before? It still applies,” she warns.

“I know, Paris,” Rory assures Paris solemnly. “And I don’t have any intention of hurting him.”

"Nobody ever has the intention..." Paris mutters, half under her breath. She pauses, looking as if she’s contemplating something.“And if he hurts you…I’ll never let him forget it either. I don't let people hurt my friends,” Paris tells Rory, who nods, smiling lightly at Paris’ promise.

“I don’t think you’ll have to worry about that. But thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“You know, Tristan or Henry probably have some good friends that they could set you up with…if you wanted...”

“Okay, when ‘girl talk’ turns into pity dating, it’s time to stop.” Paris halts the conversation. “Back to the Reformation.”

“Got it,” Rory nods, opening up her binder.

“None of their friends would want to date me anyway,” Paris adds.

“Oh, that’s not true-“

“Besides, Tristan barely sees his friends anyway…he’s always with you…” Paris points out.

"He's not *always* with me. You make it sound like I've been holding him captive."

"Don't get upset about it. Tristan's friends were jerks anyway. He's much better off with all of you guys as his crowd anyway," Paris explains. Rory frowns; she wasn't so confident Paris was right. “But like I said. Enough chit chat. Back to work.”

“Right. Back to work,” Rory agrees, though she isn’t sure she’ll be able to focus now.

*******

“What is it today?” Lorelai asks as she enters the Inn's kitchen.

“It’s just strawberry pancakes with homemade whipped cream,” Sookie shrugs.

“You’re evil,” Lorelai states, popping a forkful into her mouth and then sighing. “And heavenly…”

“Is it all right if I take off half an hour early today, Lorelai?”

“Sure. Dare I ask why?”

“Jackson is going to take me to Hartford for dinner…” Sookie tells Lorelai, smiling happily. “Then we’re going to go to the gourmet market and buy ingredients to make breakfast for tomorrow…I’m thinking poached eggs…my grandmother had this wonderful recipe and I think maybe if I had some fresh cilantro to the mix, it might-“

“That sounds really great, Sookie. Only you two could make a date out of going grocery shopping.”

“I know, isn’t it fantastic?” Sookie says. “I’m looking forward to Christmas this year. I’ll actually have someone to share it with!”

“Hey!” Lorelai exclaims. “What about me and Rory? We always do Christmas together.”

“Oh, you know what I mean, pumpkin. I usually break down in tears over the sugar cookies because I don’t have anyone to help me frost them-“

“And then you call me, blubbering, and I come over and help you until you tell me I’m decorating them too messily and take the frosting away from me?”

“Well, honey, you do. And you never use the right color sprinkles.”

“I never got the sprinkles memo when I was growing up. If you have Jackson help you this year, you might want to lay off on the whole decorating Nazi thing. I don’t think most men find obsessive-compulsive cookie decorating to be very attractive. Especially after you force him to wear an apron and act like Martha Stewart in the first place.”

“Maybe having Jackson help me isn’t such a good idea?” Sookie wavers.

“Oh, he’s a strong boy. And if he hasn’t figured out how crazy you are yet, Christmas is the perfect time to make that discovery, isn’t it?”

“I guess so,” Sookie giggles. “Now are you and Rory coming over for dinner this year?”

“Of course we are. What else would we do? Try to cook ourselves?”

“Not after you set your kitchen on fire when Rory was ten.”

“I only singed a little bit,” Lorelai protests. “I don’t know what that towel was doing so close to the stove anyway. I think it got up and walked over there on its own. And why wouldn’t we come? We always come.”

“I don’t know. I thought maybe you and Luke were doing something this year. I didn’t want to make any assumptions. Should I count him in for my house, then?”

“Eehhh, I actually haven’t broached the subject with him yet,” Lorelai says, setting down her plate of pancakes and pouring herself a cup of coffee.

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” Lorelai responds.

“I can’t imagine him wanting to spend Christmas anywhere except with you,” Sookie says, nudging Lorelai in the ribs and almost making her spill her coffee.

“We just haven’t made any actual plans yet. To assume that he wanted to do what I wanted to do…I mean, I’m coming to your house no matter what. It’s our tradition. But…”

“Oh I see.”

“What do you see?” Lorelai asks, alarmed.

“’Our tradition’, huh?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re freaking out because Luke is going to become part of it.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Well think about it, Lorelai. Up until now, what has really changed?”

“What do you mean, what’s changed?”

“Luke doesn’t come to Friday night dinners. He stays over at your place but still has his own apartment. Your lives are still separate. You make plans for Christmas and suddenly your and Rory’s plans become his plans too.”

“Sook, Luke always comes to Christmas dinner at your house.”

“Ah, but you usually show up at the diner Christmas day, an hour before dinner and beg him to come with. You never plan ahead.”

“You are reading way too much into this. We just haven’t talked about *actual* plans yet. It’s not some symptom of my commitment phobia or whatever it is you’re thinking. Luke’s the most *in my life* that a guy has ever been!”

“Which is exactly my point. He’s the biggest risk you’ve ever taken.”

“Are you *trying* to freak me out, Sookie? Cause five minutes ago I was totally cool. There’s no need to get me worked up over something I wasn’t even concerned about.”

“I’m not trying to get you worked up, Lorelai. I honestly thought you were maybe, kinda, freaking out, on the inside. But it’s clear that you aren’t, and I made a mistake. I am very sorry,” Sookie apologizes, re-filling Lorelai’s cup of coffee. Lorelai looks at her best friend, her blue eyes shooting daggers.

“As well you should be. Cause to tell you the truth, I am not worried about this commitment thing with Luke!” Lorelai takes her cup of coffee and walks out of the kitchen. Sookie winces, turning around and shutting an open drawer behind her. Her fingers get in the way and she yelps in pain. She shakes out her hand, wincing.

“Would someone please stop me the next time I do that?”

“What, shut your hand in the drawer or put your foot in your mouth?” One of her dessert chefs asks.

"Either or," Sookie shouts as she leaves the kitchen, angry with herself for upsetting her best friend.

*******

Lorelai throws herself onto the couch next to her daughter, letting her head fall into Rory's lap. Her purse drops to the floor as Lorelai kicks off her high heels with an exhausted groan.

"What *is it* with people today?" She whines, tugging on the bottom of Rory's shirt in an effort to let her know she wants a bite of the cookie dough ice cream that she is eating. "Why are Ben and Jerry here? You have a bad day too?"

"No," Rory responds, though from the look on her face Lorelai can tell she's lying.

"All right then, neither did I. My day was great," Lorelai sits up, stealing the spoon from Rory. "It started off with Michel whining about his breakfast, then went on to Sookie accusing me of being a commitment-phobe just because I haven't invited Luke to Christmas dinner yet-"

"We always drag him there on Christmas day!" Rory interjects.

"Thank you!" Lorelai exclaims. "Sookie thought that now that we're dating, things should be different. Should things be different?"

"I don't know. I guess I originally thought things would be different, but right now I don't see why they have to be."

"You really thought things would be different?"

"I just thought we probably wouldn't have to beg him to come, that's all," Rory remarks, taking the spoon back. "Apart from Sookie playing Dr. Phil, what else went wrong?"

"Oh, about a billion things. Leak in the lobby bathroom, towel delivery was three hours late, a guest in 4C didn't remove the chocolate mint before going to sleep last night and woke up with chocolate face and said it was my fault...you name it, it happened."

"Someone actually did that?"

"You wouldn't think it possible, but it is. People are that stupid. So how come your day sucked? Or, excuse me, didn't suck?"

"All right, mine sucked too."

"Why?"

"Nothing really," Rory shrugs, frown lines creasing her face. "Paris just said something that kind of bothered me."

"When does she not?"

"No, I mean really got to me. She said that Tristan doesn't see any of his friends any more because he's always with me."

"So?"

"Is that true?"

"Probably. You two are attached at the hip and lip, almost 24/7."

"Does that mean all of his friends hate me? Am I that girlfriend who just steps in and takes away the guy from the guys group?" Rory asks as Lorelai once again liberates the spoon from her grasp.

"Rory, I have never once heard Tristan mention any friends besides Lane, Henry, and Mary. Occasionally Paris, but it's not usually a glowing review. He's not missing them, why should you be worried about it? He obviously wasn't too attached to them."

"I just never wanted to be that girl."

"Who, Marlo Thomas?"

"No, that girl who is never seen without her boyfriend. I never wanted to be Rory n' Tristan, as one inseparable entity. But now it seems like wherever I go, someone is always asking me about him or where he is or what I was just doing with him-"

"Hey, what *were* you just doing with him?" Lorelai asks.

"Mom..." Rory sighs.

"Rory, you're not *that girl*. You and Tristan are still relatively new at this relationship thing. Granted, it usually wears off after a few weeks, but it's normal. It's perfectly fine for you to be with him and be thinking about him. That's how the beginning of a relationship is. And naturally everyone is going to be interested. Wouldn't you be? If you saw some perfectly beautiful couple such as Tristan and yourself waltzing around school in a lovesick haze for almost three months? It's high school. People have nothing better to do with their lives." Lorelai hits the bottom of the pint and looks at Rory. "You got anything else besides cookie dough?"

"One Sweet Whirled is in the freezer."

"Atta girl," Lorelai climbs up off the couch and heads to the kitchen. "I mean, you've seen firsthand how wrapped up this town is in Luke and me. Do you think Luke and I are unhealthy?"

"No," Rory says. She can hear the freezer open and shut, and the clink of silverware. Lorelai re-enters the living room with a new pint and a spoon for herself.

"Dig in," She lifts off the lid and hands the container to her daughter. "And if Tristan's high school years have been anything like my high school years were? Trust me. He was dying to leave his friends behind. You were probably a godsend."

"You really think that?"

"Rory. Can you name even *one* of his supposed friends?"

"Um..." Rory screws up her face, trying to remember. "I think one was named Ryan or Brian or something."

"Exactly," Lorelai states. "Did he ever introduce you?"

"No..."

"Ever sit with them in lunch?"

"No..."

"Then you really think he misses these people? Rory, come on. Tristan and you started your own circle. What's wrong with it being Henry, Lane, Mary, Paris, Tristan and you? It could be worse."

"I didn't mean that that was bad...I just didn't want to be keeping Tristan back from something."

"And you're freaking out about this because of something *Paris* said off-hand?"

"So? You were upset because of something Sookie said..."

"Sookie? Best friend for like 15 years. Paris? Sworn enemy who wanted to have you killed until a few months ago. Who is the crazy one here?"

"You think I'm really worked up about nothing?"

The phone rings at that moment and Lorelai reaches over and picks it up from the floor beside the coffee table.

"Hello?" Lorelai grins, holding the phone out to Rory. "Totally worked up over nothing." She takes the pint of ice cream from Rory in exchange for the phone.

"Hello?" Rory asks, smiling when she hears Tristan's voice over the line.

"I'd like to get you worked up about something," Tristan murmurs huskily into the phone as Rory walks to her bedroom.

"Oh you would?" Rory asks, closing her bedroom door. "What something would that be?"

"It's a secret. If you're a really good girl, maybe I'll tell you."

"Oo, secrets. I love secrets. They are, however, better when I'm in on them."

"Then why don't you come over and get in on it?" Tristan teases. Rory plops down onto her bed, laying on her back and laying her head on one of her overstuffed pillows. She breathes in deeply, smiling.

"I'd love to," Rory murmurs, then pauses. "But you know I can't." The lne is silent for a second and Rory sighs. "You know, my pillows smell like you."

"Is that a good thing?" Tristan asks. "I hope you're not trying to drop me a subtle hint here."

"That really wouldn't have been too subtle. But I meant it smells like your cologne, and your shampoo...and whatever else it is that smells like you. I like it. It makes me always think about you before I go to sleep..." Rory laughs at herself. "God, that sounded so corny it could've been made into a flake."

"It wasn't Kellogg...I happen to like the idea of you thinking about me when you're in bed," Tristan replies. "Cause that's what I do."

"Think of yourself while you're in bed? Tristan, I know your ego is larger than most, but come on," Rory jokes.

"Well, concentrating on myself does kind of come along with thinking of you at night," Tristan tells her, his meaning clear. Rory blushes deeply, naughty images flying into her mind all at once.

"Tristan..."

"What?" He asks innocently.

"You know what."

"Sorry," he says. "You get to me. I can't help it." Tristan hesitates, unsure whether or not to ask the question. "Don't I get to you?"

"Tristan..." Rory picks lint off of her sweater, the conversation beginning to make her self-conscious.

"Forget I asked, I shouldn't have," Tristan replies quickly. Talking sex over the phone with him was something Rory clearly wasn't comfortable with.

"You do get to me, Tristan. You do. All the time. I just..." Rory stops, awkward. She sits up in her bed, adjusting her pillows behind her body so she can lean comfortably against the headboard.

"You want to come over?" Tristan asks.

"We have a practice exam on Monday. I have to study."

"We can study together."

"You know we can't."

"We do it all the time."

"We do not."

"Then what do you call that crazy thing we do where we sit in your room with our text books and read?"

"I call that the two minutes before I start kissing you or you start kissing me-"

"We don't always-"

"Or whatever either of us does that leads to us making out. I can't afford to be distracted, I have to concentrate. I mean, studying with Paris always reminds me exactly how ill-prepared I am...I have a lot of work to do."

"Okay," Tristan backs off, sensing she means business. Rory looks over at the huge stack of books sitting on her desk, just waiting to be cracked open. Rory turns Tristan's words over and over in her head. wishing he hadn't brought up their sex life - or lack thereof, more importantly. How can she possibly study Moliere when all she can think about is how fantastic it would be to be with Tristan? To be close to him, laying together on his huge king size bed in his mohagany-walled room, completely alone? Of course, it would inevitably end with one of them stopping the other before it went too far, but everything before that moment were always so... "Rory?" Tristan asks, wondering why her end of the line is silent. "You there?"

"I'll be there in half an hour," Rory states and then simply hangs up. Looking around her room like a guilty thief, she hesitates a moment before climbing off of her bed. "Shit..." she mutters under her breath, wondering why her self-control disappeared whenever Tristan came into the picture. She gathers all of her textbooks and notes quickly and stuffs them into her bag and heads out of her bedroom. "Mom?"

"Living room!" She calls.

"I'm going to meet Tristan to study, is that okay?"

Lorelai looks up at Rory as she leans over the back of the couch. Lorelai sits up from her comfortable position and raises her eyebrows at her daughter.

"Why can't he come here?"

"He always comes here," Rory states.

"Why buck the trend?" Lorelai asks.

"Mom, please?"

"Is there going to be an adult there?"

"George and Antoine will."

"You call his parents by their first names?"

"No, that's the butler and the maid," Rory explains.

"The butler and the maid? Comforting if you were playing Clue, but not so helpful in this situation."

"There's not a butler in Clue," Rory responds. "And they're adults, aren't they?"

"Not adults who will stop you from being Miss Scarlet!" Lorelai points out. "And I could've sworn there was a butler in Clue. Who the hell was Mr. Green then?"

"Not the butler."

"I bet he was the gardener."

"That makes sense with his name, yes. So can I go?"

"Rory, I don't know," Lorelai shakes her head. Rory sets her book bag down on the floor, realizing this is going to take a longer effort.

"Mom, I promise that we're going to study. I have exams next week, I'm not about to blow off studying. Tristan needs help with English, I said I'd help him. It'll be good review," Rory tells her. It wasn't entirely a lie; Tristan did say in lunch the other day he would appreciate some help reviewing. "You need to trust me."

"I do, Ror, it's just..." Lorelai meets Rory's eyes, wavering between saying yes or no. "Okay."

"Okay?" Rory grins, leaning down and throwing her arms around her mother's neck. "Thank you so much!"

"You're very lucky my worst fear is becoming Grandma..." Lorelai says, patting Rory's back affectionately as the hug continues.

"I really appreciate this, Mom. Tristan will too." Rory pulls away and picks up her backpack. She heads for the door as Lorelai quickly rises from the couch.

"Why will Tristan appreciate this?" Lorelai asks, alarmed. Rory stops and turns back around, shooting her mom an unamused look.

"I just meant that you watching him almost every moment we're together made him feel a little uneasy, that's all. He thought you hated him for awhile there. He couldn't stand you disapproving."

"Oh. I never hated him...exactly..." Lorelai shrugs, looking sheepish. "I don't hate him. I'm just worried about you is all."

"I know. And thanks. But can I go now?"

"Yes..." Lorelai picks up the keys from the table in the foyer and tosses them to Rory. "Put gas in the Jeep and be careful driving. Home by 11."

"Love you, Mom," Rory chirps as she dashes out the door.

"Love you too," Lorelai replies as the door closes. She stares at the closed door for a few seconds, tempted to go after Rory and take it all back. Straightening her back, she returns to the living room with resolve to relax. Two paces past the telephone she whirls around and grabs it, dialing frantically.

"Luke! Luke! Are you there? Pick up!" She says anxiously into his answering machine. "Okay...you must still be downstairs. When you get upstairs, call me back. As soon as you can. I let Rory go study at Tristan's house alone. And there's only the maid and the butler there - their names are George and Antoine, I don't think I can trust them - and she's there, unsupervised...I mean, she's unsupervised with him at school everyday, but what can they do in school? This is Tristan's *house*. A big house. It's bigger than my parents' house. Actually I've never been there, I'm just assuming. But call me when you get this. Please." She hangs up, perturbed. She hits redial.

"Luke, it's me again. Forget that last message. Rory's a big girl, I trust her. She knows what's right. I shouldn't freak out just because she's studying over there. She's seventeen, I gotta start letting go. So...like I said, just forget that last call. It's like the Wizard of Oz...just ignore the man behind the curtain. He has no idea what he's doing. But still call me when you get in. I miss you."

Lorelai click off on the phone again, looking slightly more at ease. She goes to put the phone back in the charger, but pauses, thinking maybe her original worries were well-founded. Her thumb goes to the on button, but she stops herself. "Just go watch tv." She sets the phone down cautiously as if handling a time bomb and hurries back to the couch. She picks up the remote and changes the channel. Her eyes widen as she watches Pacey and Joey strip one another down on a repeat of Dawson's Creek. "Ok, television off." She throws the remote away from her like a dangerous, disgusting spider.

"Teenagers suck." With this revelation, she flops back onto the couch, covering her face with a pillow.

*******

Rory stares at the top of her English test in dismay, the red letter burning into her retinas as horribly as if she had been staring into a solar eclipse.

C+. She had gotten a C+. This was just a practice test for the exam! Everyone around her had gotten B’s or higher. Yet she had gotten a C+. What was wrong with her?

Rory stuffs the test into her binder, embarrassed that anyone might see her failure. The bell rings, signaling the end of the period, but she barely notices. Tristan stops at the side of her desk, wondering why his girlfriend’s face is wrenched in confusion and pain.

“Rory? You all right?” Tristan sets his hand lightly on her