AUTHOR: The Corruptor
RATING: G/PG
CHARACTERS / PAIRING: Tristan, Rory, Lane, Henry, and others
SUMMARY: Picks up a few months after The 3rd Lorelai (b/c all other eps that happened after that one cease to exist in this author’s universe). Rory and Tristan are friends, trying to decide whether or not to go to a Chilton dance.
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Some of the characters may be slightly “off.” I had to borrow Henry and give him a last name (since the GG writers don’t seem to like to give their characters last names), and I didn’t really want to introduce any other new characters. And yes... *groan*... the use of the way overused "school dance." For anyone who needs audio aids, I was thinking along the lines of "Helplessly, Hopelessly" by Jessica Andrews for Part 5. :-P
DISCLAIMER: I wish I could have HA all to myself, but these characters are owned by Amy S-P, The GG, and the WB.
FEEDBACK: Yes, please! Click on the box below, and please don't forget to write the title of fic in the subject line. Thank you!

“Tate McMillan.” Despite all the objections and all the swear words she had silently attached to Tristan’s name over the weekend, she had made a mental list after all. And she couldn’t believe she was actually giving into this ridiculous challenge he had put forth.

Tristan rolled his eyes. “You wouldn’t have fun with him. Unless you like sports or can stand a date who talks about nothing else…”

“Fine. Charles Carrington.”

Tristan guffawed. “Ha! Chuck. You’d seriously be bored out of your mind.”

“More than with Tate?” she asked, doubtful.

He gave her a knowing look. As if there was something else about Chuck that he wouldn’t sully her ears by actually saying. Fair enough. If there was something sordid, then Tristan probably knew about it. She wouldn’t put it past either him or his friends for actually having sordid things to talk about whenever she saw them joking in the halls, probably at some girl’s expense. She wouldn’t make him say anything she probably didn’t want to hear anyway. Especially anything she would blush profusely at. And where he would thoroughly enjoy watching her turn beet red.

“Stuart Honness.”

“Already has a date. Unless you can offer something more than what Kate Harris can.”

“Oh. Kay. Enough said.” She frowned and Tristan chuckled. “Cameron Eckley.”

Tristan laughed out loud, humorously. He quirked a brow. “Really?”

She frowned. His look made her feel insecure. “What’s wrong with Cameron?” she asked, defensively.

He shrugged. “Nothing. Try again.”

“What’s the point? This is stupid. You’re just going to say something bad about every guy I mention.” She pouted.

He grinned, defensively. “That’s not true,” he exclaimed. But it was. Because so far, she had named his friends. And he knew his friends. And it didn’t bode well for her because practically all the guys in their class were his friends. They could be worse than him when it came to girls. And even if they weren’t, they would never be able to appreciate her the way… well, the way he did.

“Forget it.” She was upset.

“Rory…” he prompted, repentant.

She sighed loudly. “Fine. Michael Cooper.”

“Rory…” His tone of voice suggested he was not only disappointed in her, but growing impatient with her as well.

“Tristan,” she countered, frustrated.

Her use of his name made him start for a brief moment. No matter how many times he had to remind himself that they were now friends, her easy use of his name always made his heart skip a beat. “You’re not thinking up to your potential. I know these guys.” His voice held a note of whining, as if urging her to play the game the way it was supposed to be played, instead of being so naïve. And the way he said the last part made her bite her lip. Yes, he did know these guys, and that worried her. Because if even he didn’t think she’d have a good time with any of them, who was she supposed to take? Tristan knew practically every guy at Chilton, and if she hadn’t been able to hit on a name that didn’t make him react negatively, with regards to her, what were her chances?

“Willis Callahan.”

Tristan almost choked. “Will is an unabashed womanizer. You definitely don’t want to go with him. He’d try something or other.”

“So it would be like going with you,” she remarked, her annoyance with both him and the game surfacing again.

“Tsk, Rory.” He wagged a finger at her.

She didn’t even sigh. Instead, she gave him a grateful look for that bit of advice. At times, he could be protective of her, and she appreciated it. Loved it, actually. But he wouldn’t hear her admit it anytime soon. At least, not out loud. “Drew Anderson.”

Half of his lips curled into an amused but approving grin. “Good choice. Drew’s a great guy.” He paused to allow her time to beam at finally selecting someone he could approve. Not that she would actually follow through and ask Drew to the dance, and they both knew it. That done, he continued. “Too bad he’s already said yes to Trudie Linden.”

She groaned loudly. “You suck.”

“Yes. And let’s leave it at that.” He smirked belatedly.

She groaned again, exasperatedly, at his thinly veiled innuendo. “You. Are. Disgusting.” She watched as he merely grinned. Sighing, she surged on, despite all the objections she had towards continuing this game. “Harris Colby.”

His eyes went towards the sky, as if asking for divine inspiration. “Harris is…” He looked as if he were struggling to find the right words to describe Harris. “Well,” he said, sighing, “He’s boring. He hates to dance. He hates to have long, deep, intellectual conversations with anyone. Especially with girls.”

“And you do?” she interjected, quirking a brow and trying to hide the teasing smile that was threatening to creep onto her face. “I didn’t think conversations were one of your strong points. I thought your skills didn’t go beyond grunting: You. Me. Now.” If he was going to tease her, she could follow suit and tease him back. Give and take banter. It was what their friendship was based on.

He shook his head, offering a condescending smirk. “I’m good at many things, Rory,” he told her, the innuendo clearly evident in his tone of voice, and in the way he leaned towards her.

“God help us all,” she groaned in response, lifting her eyes heavenward.

He continued as if he hadn’t heard her. Hadn’t even bothered to take the time to throw her a dirty look. “And Harris hates parties.”

“Well, then he probably wouldn’t say yes anyway,” she pointed out, trying to inject some humor into her voice. He was starting to drive her insane. And yet, it was a good kind of insanity.

He gave her a nonchalant shrug. “Oh, he’d say yes if you asked him. He just wouldn’t enjoy it. And he’d probably blame you for a waste of an evening.”

She stared at him in shock. “What’s the point?” she asked, irritated.

“Try again, Rory,” he urged, amused.

“Geoff Wallace.”

He chuckled to himself. “You’d have more fun with Harris.”

She threw him a dirty look and gave him a mild punch in the shoulder. “I hate you. And this is pointless.”

“I’m trying to help,” he assured, laughing.

She didn’t think he was because he hadn’t stopped laughing yet. “You’re trying to get me to humiliate myself. And you’re enjoying it way too much to be sincere.”

“Okay, okay,” he said, trying to repent. He screwed his face into a somewhat serious expression. “I’m sorry. Forgive me?” She didn’t say anything, only looked away. And he wondered if this was when she would decide to stop talking to him forever. “Rory?” he prompted, a little nervously.

She sighed. “I don’t know. Is there any guy I can name that you would say was both free and would be fun?”

He pretended to think about it for a beat. Pretending, because to him, there was only one obvious answer. But to her… Then scrunching his face, gave a sad shake of his head. “Doubtful.”

“Then this is a huge waste of time,” she blurted.

“It’s an exercise,” he remarked, hopefully.

“Yes,” she agreed, sourly. “An exercise in futility.”

“Hey, you could always ask me,” he suggested again. There was a twinkle in his eyes that left her confused as to whether he was being serious. She tried to convince herself that he was just being a tease. To think otherwise would make her flush for reasons she didn’t want to have to analyze. Yet.

She rolled her eyes. “I just won’t go. It’ll make things so much easier,” she said with finality, ignoring his suggestion and offer. She wasn’t sure she could think about it just yet. Or the ramifications if she were to accept. Or even the implications of him asking her in the first place. She checked her watch, and noticed it was time for them to get to their next class. “We have to get going,” she informed.

He let her move first, resisting the urge to groan out loud. What more could he do to impress on her how much he liked her? He threw his eyes towards the sky, as if asking for some spiritual assistance to get through the day, and through her stubborn and thick skull. Then he trudged after her to class, another day disappointed and frustrated and alone.

She was late. And the knapsack filled with books on her back, the chocolate bar and brown bag hanging from her left hand, and the three-quarter full Styrofoam cup of coffee clutched in her right hand, were not helping matters as she half-jogged, half-sprinted towards the familiar antique shop. She came to a skidding halt just outside the front entrance, caught her breath – barely – before surging through. The tinkling of the door chimes announced her arrival. And she was immediately greeted by a large mahogany dresser.

“Lane,” she called out, knowing it would be a futile gesture anyway.

“I’m over here.” Her best friend’s voice drifted out to her from behind a maze of old furniture.

Rory turned in the general direction of the disembodied voice. “Where’s here?” she asked, confused and frowning. They could be at this all day. And back in the early stages of their friendship, they often were.

Lane tried to be helpful once again. “Over here!” And yet, her voice sounded more distant than what it had been the first time Rory had asked the question.

“Over where?” Rory rocked on her heels, glancing helplessly around her. There were so many directions, so many places to start through the maze. And she was already late as it was.

Lane offered to help narrow down the choices. “By the large mauling bear statue,” she called out.

Rory frowned, confused. “The what…?” Bewildered, she scooted between a wardrobe and a bookcase, still following in the general direction of Lane’s voice… And came to an abrupt stop when her eyes made contact with a pair of furry brown legs. She glanced up, cautiously, and slightly amused. She had found the mauling bear.

It was a statue of a large brown bear, standing on its hindquarters and looming almost 2 feet taller than her. Its front quarters were raised high in the air, poised in an attack stance. The mouth was open in a fierce growl. Gasping, Rory took a step back, turning. And ran directly into Mrs. Kim, nearly spilling her coffee on the woman.

The older woman tsked disapprovingly, eyeing the half-eaten candy bar and coffee. “Is that chocolate?” she nodded towards the melting Snickers bar in Rory’s hand.

“Ye-es,” Rory answered, hesitantly, staring at the offending items, ready to object.

“Girls your age should not be eating chocolate. Make your face break out,” Mrs. Kim told her rather pointedly.

“Well…” Rory was at a loss for words, unsure how to respond. And in cases such as these, she said the first thing that came to her head. “I always thought a zit was distinguishing… like a mole.”

Mrs. Kim was not humored. “Is that coffee?” Her eyes had already moved on to the next offending item in Rory’s hands.

“Um… yes.” Rory glanced around, wondering when Lane would manage to pop up and save her from this impromptu interrogation. She had no problems with Mrs. Kim, actually felt affectionate towards her, but she had promised Lane a study date that day, and she was already half an hour late.

“Coffee stunts your growth,” Mrs. Kim tsked.

Rory smiled weakly. “I think I stopped growing…” She noticed the older woman getting ready for another lecture and decided to steer her away from going into the minute details of what coffee and chocolate could do to her complexion. Rory managed to open the brown bag and pulled out an uneaten bagel. “But I have a bagel!” she announced, triumphantly. “That’s healthy, right?”

The woman squinted, inspecting the food item from where she stood. And just when Rory was positive she’d leave this conversation unscathed after all… “Is that cream cheese?” The disapproving tone was back.

Rory gave up. “With jelly!” She nodded, grinning brightly.

Before the woman could start on her again by telling her exactly why she shouldn’t be eating cream cheese or jelly, Lane appeared behind her mother. “Hey, Rory,” she interrupted, catching the noticeable sigh of relief that escaped Rory’s lips. Lane only smiled sympathetically and turned to her mother. “Mama, I think there’s a man over there who needs your help.”

Her mother’s ears perked up. “Where?” she demanded to know.

“Over there,” Lane answered, noncommittally, nodding in a general direction that was away from where they stood. As soon as her mother was out of earshot, she turned to Rory. “Sorry,” she remarked, shrugging apologetically.

“Oh, nooo,” Rory assured, grinning. She was used to these meetings with Lane’s mother. “I’m the one who brought the contraband. I’m the one who’s going to die short with a really bad complexion.”

Lane groaned, feigning upset. “Why do you get all the fun?”

Rory grinned sympathetically and threw another look at the bear statue. “That thing is hideous.”

Lane rolled her eyes. “You want it? I’ll sell it to you for a bite of your Snickers,” she offered brightly, hopefully.

“I’ll let you have the rest of it if you don’t sell it to me,” Rory corrected, holding out her candy bar to a grateful Lane.

“Deal.” Lane immediately took a satisfying bite out of the proffered candy. “Mmm. A Snickers really does satisfy you.” She shared a smile with Rory and began walking towards the kitchen where they would be studying.

“Sorry I’m late,” Rory apologized, following Lane into the kitchen, where a pile of books were already spread out on the cluttered kitchen table.

Lane shrugged. “It’s okay,” she assured. But curiosity got the better of her. “So what took you?”

Rory rolled her eyes. As if there could be more than one possible answer. “Tristan.” The name rolled off her tongue, filled with layers of emotional context.

Lane was not fazed. “Oh, really?” she asked, managing to keep a straight face and her voice innocent. “What did he do this time?” She sat down, nonchalantly, but eyeing her friend warily. Despite the fact that Rory was now good friends with Tristan, she loved to harangue him every chance she got. She especially loved to complain to Lane, but mostly because he was never around to defend himself. And when he was around for one of her playful venting sessions, the two of them often ended up bickering with each other. It was all Lane could do to keep from giggling knowingly.

Rory shrugged out of her knapsack. “You mean he actually has to do something other than just exist?” she grumbled, half-heartedly. This had become a tradition. Though she was friends with Tristan, he was often her most frequent topic of conversation. Whether she was joking about something he had done or said, or more often than not, grumbling about how annoying he could be. And yet, despite her constant grousing, she could never manage to keep the affection out of her voice. And lately, it had become even more evident to her friend and mother. “No matter how many death glares I aim in his direction, he still manages to be absolutely clueless.” She fell into an empty chair, sighing.

“Some would say that about you,” Lane murmured, thoughtfully.

“What?” Rory’s eyes snapped towards her best friend. She wasn’t sure she had heard correctly. And if she had, she was ready with a comeback and denial.

But Lane deftly avoided falling into a trap. “Nothing,” she said, shrugging, as if what she had said was of no importance. She pulled a math book towards her and pretended to stare at it while Rory wearily pulled out her own thick binders and textbooks. “You know you like him,” Lane said, suddenly. She waited for Rory to give her a dirty look, which she complied as soon as the words had left Lane’s mouth. “I didn’t mean it that way,” Lane qualified. Then after a beat, “Unless there’s something you’re not telling me.” She raised a curious brow at her friend.

Rory’s face scrunched into disgust and denial. “Why would you even think that?” she asked, her voice rising despite herself. She hadn’t answered the question and both girls knew it.

Lane shrugged, as if the answer were obvious to everyone but Rory. “You do nothing but complain about him, and yet, you still hang out with him everyday when you’re at Chilton. You’re either a masochist, or you like him.”

Rory stared at her, the words of denial struggling to make their way off her tongue. Frustrated, Rory glanced away, then back. Lane managed to keep a neutrally innocent expression on her face. Rory opened her mouth, shut it, then started again. And Lane managed to keep the amused look off her face. “Lane, you’ve met him before. How could you even think that I…” She couldn’t finish it, not sure if saying what was expected of her would make her a liar.

Lane leaned over the table, meeting Rory’s eye. She lowered her voice into gossip mode. “Well, the first time I didn’t really meet him, remember? He was being dumped by that girl, what’s her name. And I didn’t know who he was until the other time I met him, when you actually introduced us. And he was absolutely adorable. Cocky and conceited, yes, but still…” Lane let her voice trail off, sighing just a little for effect, knowing it would annoy Rory to admit that she had found Tristan undeniably charming and attractive. Even if Rory and the boy were now friends.

Lane caught the horrified look in Rory’s eyes. Seeing no way out of this conversation unless she blatantly changed the subject, Rory frowned. “Let’s not talk about him,” she suggested, ignoring the grin Lane gave her.

Lane batted her lashes at Rory, innocently. “Ok. If you say so… Study?” she chirped.

“Yes, please,” Rory replied, grateful that Lane would not be dwelling on the Tristan subject.

They hadn’t been studying much for the past hour. Lane was busy keeping her up to date on the Stars Hollow High grapevine. And Rory had found her accounts much too humorous and entertaining to return to her tedious and boring studies.

“She thought I was making it all up,” Lane exclaimed, heatedly.

“The nerve,” Rory offered the right amount of indignation for the slight her best friend had received at the hands of a fellow high school student.

“I know!” Lane’s head bobbed up and down in agreement. “I mean, it’s just possible that Lane Kim may have a rich, cute boyfriend.”

Rory grinned at her friend’s affronted outburst. She knew that all these things Lane would have no trouble recalling to her, but that in the heat of the moment, when actually faced with her adversary, she would fold, opting to take the easy and nonviolent way out of a situation she would rather not be in. “Of course.” Rory nodded her head once, playing along, pretending to be just as insulted at the other girl’s behavior.

Lane put a hand out, stopping Rory from agreeing any further, as if she had just been hit by a major epiphany. “Oh my God.” Her dark eyes widened in sheer horror. She giggled. “Did you just hear me? I have a boyfriend. It just sounds so…”

And Rory, seeing how her friend was no longer upset with the other girl anymore, decided to tease her best friend. “Impossible?” she suggested, innocently, but smiling teasingly.

Lane shot her a half-amused look. “Surreal,” she corrected. “And thanks.”

Rory’s grin deepened. “You’re welcome,” she chirped. “So what did you do when she wouldn’t believe you?”

Lane put her hands at her waist, defiant. “I showed her a picture Henry had given me. And then she had the nerve to say that he was cute and that I could keep seeing him. Like I need her permission,” she huffed, frowning.

Rory tried not to chuckle at her friend’s irritation. “And you told her off, right?” she asked, knowing full well that Lane had done nothing of the sort.

“I said…” Lane blushed. “Thanks.” She averted her eyes, embarrassed. She hated confrontations, especially with girls who had a higher status in the Stars Hollow High social hierarchy. The fact that the girl had even spoken to her at all, had thrown her for a confused loop.

Rory gave her head a consoling shake. “Lane.”

But Lane bounced in her seat, not yet finished. The embarrassment was gone, replaced by new fire. “And she had the nerve to say that when we get older, maybe we’d hang out together at the Club or something. That’s exactly what she said. No kidding. The Club.” Lane finished off her rant by affecting a faux upper class, British accent.

Rory suppressed her laughter at her friend’s impression. “And you said…” she prompted, instead.

Lane hesitated. “Yeah, okay.” She bit her lip, frowning, privately berating herself for being so weak in front of the popular girls. She glanced at Rory, tilting her head questioning. “You think I’m a total loser, aren’t I?”

Rory pretended to be highly insulted at such an accusation. “No! That was very… cute,” she offered, knowing her denial would fall flat.

Lane sighed dejectedly. “Right. Missy Kessler now thinks I want to be best friends with her.”

“Well…” Rory shrugged, matter-of-factly, “We have been drifting apart…” She waited for Lane to groan and roll her eyes. “So, hey, you never told me what happened after the Big Meeting.” She stressed the last two words, emphasizing the importance of the event that had occurred the last weekend.

Lane grinned, then lowered her voice confidentially. They were still sitting in her kitchen, and she could never be sure when, or if, her mother would pop out and interrupt them. “Well, I told you we all met at this fancy restaurant in Hartford, right?” Rory nodded and Lane continued. “Well, my parents didn’t take too kindly to Henry and me stepping out during the middle of the Big Parental Dating Conference. My mom said she knew I couldn’t have picked a guy who met all her criteria, and that there had to be something wrong with him. And of course, he was a bad influence on me for talking me into sneaking out before the Rules For Dating Contract was signed by both parties.” Lane rolled her eyes, grinning.

Rory gave a soft laugh. Lane had only gone into superficial details over the phone when she had first told her about the meeting between Henry’s family and her family. Mrs. Kim had then walked in on her and she had had to cut the conversation short. Apparently, Lane, bored with the constant talk of her and Henry as if they weren’t even present at the dinner table, had excused herself to use the restroom. Henry, also bored, had followed suit, running into her as she made her way back to the table. Observing that both their families were too caught up in their own discussions to notice them, the two teens had stepped outside to enjoy the tranquil little garden situated behind the restaurant. Finally noticing their disappearance, her mother had found them sitting on a bench, lost in an animated conversation. Such unsupervised intimate time alone for the two teens was not to be allowed at such an early stage of the dating plan.

“So did she threaten to ground you, or forbid you to see him ever again?” Rory asked, amused.

“Are you kidding?” Lane gasped, incredulous. “He’s a potential doctor. They love him!”

Rory tried not to smile at the inconsistencies. “Really.”

“And he brought gifts,” Lane informed, triumphantly. “My mother had to love that.”

Rory did laugh. “Well, at least he knows how to charm his way into your mother’s heart. I’m glad everything worked out.”

“I know.” Lane gave a self-effacing laugh. “I’m still freaking out. When our families met, I almost became nauseous. I sat there thinking that must be what brides feel like during their pre-wedding jitters.”

“Hmm. And I wasn’t there for the big day,” Rory objected playfully.

Lane gave her a knowing look. “Don’t worry. I have this great hot pink maid of honor dress all picked out for you.”

“How thoughtful,” Rory murmured, not missing a beat.

“But you can still help me pick out the wedding china,” Lane offered, teasingly.

“Deal.” The two girls dissolved into a fit of giggles over the image they had created. “So, anything else I need to know about who’s who at Stars Hollow High?”

Lane hesitated for a brief second. “I saw Dean,” she said, nonchalantly. So far, other than the few weeks immediately after the breakup, Rory had seemed fine, too lost in her friendship with Tristan to have time to wallow any longer over Dean.

“Oh?” Rory was able to keep her voice steady.

“I know you don’t really want to talk about…” Lane backpedaled quickly, trying not to dwell on this painful subject.

“No, it’s fine,” Rory assured, but not meeting her eyes. She wasn’t sure exactly how fine she was with it. It had been barely a few months since he had broken up with her, and in recent weeks, she hadn’t had time to think about it. School and being friends with Tristan had exhausted her to the point where she didn’t need to think about him anymore. Wouldn’t be able to find the time to think about him, anyway, even if she tried. And as the words came out of her mouth -- as she assured Lane that the topic of the boy who unceremoniously broke her heart no longer affected her the way it had months ago -- she felt relieved. The words felt right. Unforced. Maybe she really was over him. Had been over him. And just never had the time to let her heart and head in on that fact. “It’s just Dean.” Just Dean… it sounded so final. Not like how Just Tristan sounded as if it were the tip of the iceberg, hiding layers upon layers of undiscovered emotions... far from finished.

Lane shrugged. “Yeah. I saw him in the halls, and said hi.” She paused. “He didn’t say hi back, though.” She frowned, remembering the slight.

“Well, how incredibly rude of him,” Rory exclaimed, trying to infuse as much indignation into her voice, but failing.

Lane watched her closely. “Are you sure you’re okay?” she asked quietly. So far, nothing Rory did pointed to her being anything but okay.

Rory nodded again, pointedly. “Yes, I’m sure,” she reassured, sounding firmer and more resolute this time around. “Talking about Dean doesn’t bother me anymore.”

“Right,” Lane agreed, the mischievous twinkle entering her eyes. “Because you’d much rather talk about Tristan.”

Rory ignored the knowing grin Lane directed at her. “I would not,” she protested, weakly, trying to temper the blush that had started to creep across her cheeks against her will. And just as immediately as Lane had even suggested the idea, thoughts of Tristan had suddenly replaced all thoughts of Dean in Rory’s mind, even though she had only just left the boy’s presence a few hours ago. She needed to change the topic quickly, feeling the urgency of getting off the topic of Tristan. “I’d much rather talk about you and Henry,” she scoffed, haughtily.

Lane didn’t say anything for a brief moment, wondering whether she should let Rory off the hook this time. Other times, she was able to inadvertently coax Rory into animatedly and heatedly discussing all of Tristan’s downfalls. And while she did so, Rory would never be able to hide her growing fondness for the boy who had, up until a few months ago, thrived on making her miserable with his aggressive flirtations. Lane was almost positive that Rory hadn’t even noticed the change in her disposition when it came to Tristan. And she was absolutely certain that had she even suggested something other than friendship between the two, Rory would adamantly disagree with her.

“Study break,” Lane suggested, standing up and stretching. “Coffee at Luke’s? I’ll tell you the rest of the fun happenings at the Big Meeting.”

Rory agreed whole-heartedly. “Let’s go. I’m feeling a growth spurt coming on right now that could be cured by an extra large mug of Luke’s coffee.” Giggling, the two girls packed up their things and ran out the door.

Rory frowned. She needed a caffeine fix. Fast. And she was looking forward to a stop at Luke’s on the way home to cure her coffee withdrawal. But Tristan had other ideas, catching up to her after school, while she was on her way to the bus stop. He hadn’t tried to delay her this time with any of his other guerrilla tactics. He only walked companionably by her side as they headed towards the bench by the stop. She watched as he opened his mouth, the infuriatingly teasing glint surfacing in his deep blue eyes, knowing exactly what topic of conversation he was about to bring up.

“So who are you going with?” she asked, wanting to switch gears and take the focus off of her before he could ask his question. She glanced around to see if her bus was coming. It was nowhere in sight.

He shrugged, putting his hands in his pocket as he rocked on his heels. He also silently thanked the bus for being late, allowing him some extra time alone with Rory. “Not sure. Skye Davis, Mala Hennigan, and Lindsey Crouger have all asked me.”

She stared at him.

He stared back. “What?”

She shook her head. “You have three potential dates. And you didn’t answer any of them? Did you just tell them you’d think about it?”

He evaded the question. “Rory, I’m not the one with dating issues. So, have you come up with any new names or will I have to find a date for you?”

“Ha. Like that would ever happen,” she teased. But she quickly returned to the subject of him, certain that if they stayed away from talking about her datelessness for the dance, he would eventually forget and she would be able to forego attending the dreaded event. “Wait, I don’t get it. Skye, Mala, and Lindsey? They’re like the three most beautiful girls at school.”

Tristan started to shrug again.

“Well, Skye and Lindsey definitely are. Mala does this thing with her…”

Tristan laughed. And Rory laughed, effacingly. She loved hearing him laugh, being easy around her. “Rory, that’s probably the meanest thing I’ve ever heard you say. And you’re one of the nicest girls I know.” He continued to smile at her as she blushed at the compliment.

Even so, she would not let him evade the question so easily. “You have three invitations from three gorgeous girls, and you haven’t picked one yet. What are you waiting for?”

“I didn’t know you cared,” he teased.

The blush immediately faded as she worked quickly to affect a nonchalant demeanor towards his statement. “I don’t,” she assured, trying to sound as apathetic as possible, but not succeeding.

He looked at her. The grin faded a notch, almost sadly. She met his eyes, trying to read what was there, but shifted on the bench under his intense gaze. “Maybe I’m waiting for someone even more beautiful.”

“More beautiful than those three? Can you be any more shallow?” she mused, looking away thoughtfully, and entirely missing the wistful and adoring look he directed at her.

His lips curled into a slight grin. “Maybe I’m just waiting for a better offer.”

“Is that even possible?” she pondered, chewing on her lip.

“Anything’s possible, Rory. We became friends, didn’t we?”

His question caught her attention again. Her head turned back to him, eyes meeting his. And she smiled beautifully at his statement. He felt his breath catch in his throat, and knew that she would have to speak next because he wouldn’t be able to utter another word. She complied. “Yes. We did.” There was some finality to her agreement. As if neither of them would be able to change that fact. No matter how hard he tried to mess it up. Even if he knew that it wasn’t true. There were many, many things he could do to break the special bond they had formed.

“So…”

She rolled her eyes, exasperated that he would have to break their moment. “So nothing. I’m finished trying to come up with names of guys I would rather not ask to a dance I would rather not go to.”

“Well, I’d rather you did,” he said, petulantly.

She let out a deep breath. “I’ll just be bored, and it’ll just be awkward. And I wouldn’t even know what to talk about with any of them. I’d much rather go with you.” His eyes brightened at this, but he stayed relatively calm and composed. “But you’ll be too busy making out with one of the three supermodels.” She sighed, weary, looking away. She didn’t see his face fall. Didn’t even realize that she had said exactly what he had hoped she would say. Before her subsequent brush-off of it wrenched his heart.

“Yeah, well, what are dances for anyway?” he said, at a half-hearted attempt to play the cad. He didn’t even attempt to smirk, knowing it would come out wrong with the attitude he was trying to present to her at the moment. An attitude that he hadn’t been hurt, and wasn’t extremely frustrated with her.

Her eyes flashed, teasingly. “You’re incorrigible,” she accused, smiling. He grinned back. Because seeing her smile always made him so. Even when he was feeling less than cheerful. When she saw he was not apologetic, she rolled her eyes. “And I’m absolutely pathetic. I can’t believe you’re making me anxious about this dance. And that I’m actually letting you. There’s so much time left. And I resolve not to think about it anymore. For now. So there.” Her tone of voice challenged him to defy her.

His grin informed her that he would allow her to have the last say. This time. “So, do you need a ride home?” he asked, even though they were already waiting for the bus.

She shook her head. “It’s okay. I’m early for the bus. Besides, it’s really too far away for you. And you already drove me the other day.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he assured, offhandedly, preparing himself for a rehash of their usual fight over his offers to drive her home. They’d argue about it, but she always gave in.

She hesitated. “Better not,” she informed, deciding that just this once, she’d assert herself and refuse. Had the bus been exceptionally late, she might have reluctantly given in. Only she was positive she could see its headlights in the distance. “Or else I’ll get used to it and end up using you for your car all the time. And then I’ll be spoiled and you’ll accuse me of taking advantage of you.”

She truly looked worried about that outcome. He smiled almost sadly. “It’s okay,” he insisted, softly, taken aback that she had spontaneously changed the rules for this particular game of theirs.

“You want me to take advantage of you,” she stated, dubiously. She frowned.

“Hey,” he grinned, playfully. “If you’re going to use me, using me for my car is as good a reason as anything. I mean, we’ve already discussed your leather fetish.” He skipped a beat. “Unless there’s something else you’d rather use me for,” he teased, cobalt blue eyes leering.

“I’d rather not,” she retorted, remembering their repayment conversation from the other day. She averted her eyes to avoid letting him see the slight flush that was now on her face, brought on by the instant recall of their past flirtations about the subject.

The leer faded back to a genuine smile. “Don’t. Worry. About. It,” he repeated again, stressing the words to emphasize how little he cared about giving her a ride.

She beamed at him, seeing that he was serious now, even though the playful smile remained. “How about a raincheck then?”

“I honestly don’t know what you’re worried about. We’ve had this discussion already, Rory,” he reminded, teasingly. “It’s not like you’re using me for my body. Then I might accuse you of taking me for granted.”

She pretended to be confused. “Why would I want to use you for your body?”

He leered, dipping his head towards her. “You haven’t seen me with my shirt off,” he told her, voice lowered seductively.

Rory ignored the skipping of her heart. And somehow also managed, with some difficulty, to brush aside the mental image caused by his statement. Even so, she knew she was turning red by the amused and pleased expression on his face. “Now you’re scaring me,” she joked, wiggling her eyebrow at him.

“Hey,” he exclaimed with mock offense. “I’ve been working out.”

She gave a short but heartfelt laugh that caught in her throat. There was another mental image that had come unbidden into her mind, causing her blush to deepen. “I think the fright factor went up by a hundred times.”

He grinned sheepishly, deciding to let her off this time. “Yeah, well…” He looked up, seeing the bus nearing the stop. “I’ll see you tomorrow then?” There was hope there. As if he needed it.

She tilted her head to one side, contemplating him. “Why do you do that?”

“What?” he asked, alarmed. He was sure he hadn’t said or done anything in the past few minutes to make her upset. And she had just been laughing… He was still waiting on pins and needles for the day that he wouldn’t need to worry that the next time she was upset with him would be the day she realized she had made a mistake in befriending him. That it was all a joke after all.

“Say it like that. Like you’re not going to see me tomorrow. Or like you’re not sure I’m going to be here. Or like I won’t want to see you tomorrow.”

He was uncomfortable under her intense scrutiny. It was the same contemplative look he directed at her all the time, as if she were an enigma. Only this time, the look was directed at him. “I… I’m just teasing. You know. Just in case you remember that I’m a jerk or something,” he said, evasively, as if it weren’t a big deal. But her last line had made his breath catch in his throat. Because by saying that he was silly for thinking she wouldn’t want to see him tomorrow, she had implied that she did want to see him again. And he certainly didn’t want to mess things up now with a foolish slip of the tongue.

She pursed her lips, wishing he would stop thinking she would turn on him. “You’re not a jerk, and I won’t hate you. We’re friends, remember? Besides…” The smile returned. “I’m onto you,” she threatened, accusingly, tapping a teasing finger on his chest. “I can see right through your act. You’re not as bad as you want me to think you are.”

He rolled his eyes, as if she had it all wrong. But he couldn’t keep the pleasant demeanor off his face. “Really. Okay, smarty-pants. Why don’t you take your x-ray vision with you and catch the bus.” He gestured towards the bus that had just pulled into the stop behind her. “Unless this is all an elaborate ruse for you to conveniently miss the bus so I would have to drive you home.”

She returned the eye roll. “You wish, Louis,” she scoffed. “See you tomorrow!” She grabbed her things and rushed onto the bus, leaving Tristan behind to watch her. He grinned to himself and gave her a wave as soon as she was settled in her window seat. Giving his head a little shake, he turned on his heels and headed for his car, ready to suffer through the next sixteen hours without her.