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A Kiss Dissected
AUTHOR: The Corruptor
She knew something was wrong as soon as she stepped into the living room after work and found her daughter sitting on the couch, still dressed in her Chilton uniform and staring off into space, a conflicted look marring her pretty features. Even the rich aroma of coffee permeating the air from the Styrofoam cup she currently held in her hand had failed to rouse her daughter’s attention from whatever thoughts preoccupied her mind. Thoughts she was sure had been weighing on her mind for a few weeks now. Thoughts her daughter had yet to share with her. To her mother’s probing questions earlier in the week, Rory had only answered that the Paris/Tristan date/debacle/whatever had not gone as either of them had planned or hoped. And that Paris had blamed her for it. She had begged off on giving any more information than that, though her mother had been more than inquisitive and curious about it, and had a right to know since it was her clothes that were currently being held as prisoners of a war they were innocent bystanders of. Still, Lorelai had let it slide, disappointed, but not wanting to force the issue. Rory had made light of the entire affair, and Lorelai hadn’t thought it needed any further delving into. Rory herself was convinced that everything would resolve itself, and life at Chilton would resume its normality. Paris would continue to walk the fine line of friendship and rivalry with her, and Tristan would return to his usual smarmy self. Only it hadn’t happened that way. Tristan had avoided her for a few days after Paris had blown up at the both of them. And though Rory wouldn’t admit it, she actually missed his attentions. His evasive actions had come out of nowhere, possibly because he had been embarrassed that he had lost control in front of her. Had opened his heart to her. Had let her see some of his vulnerability. Had let her know that he was still pining for Summer. That a girl -- even one like Summer -- could have that much control over a guy who had seemed, at first glance, merely a player unable to be affected by the consequences of the game he willingly took part in. Only recently did he resume seeking her out, his actions and behavior confusing her even more. One minute he had ignored her; the next, he was teasing and joking with her. To him, it was as if nothing had changed, and they had always been very good friends. Paris, on the other hand, though having refrained from giving her the death glare, still gave her a wide berth. They would not be good friends for a while, if Paris had any say about it. And she let her know, at every opportunity, that while she would allow Tristan to flirt with her again -- which he hadn’t, to everyone’s relief, having learned to steer clear of that potential disaster -- she would not so easily forgive Rory for making her a public spectacle. She did not need help in the dating department, and if Rory wanted to insult and humiliate her by finding her dates, she would mete out her punishment as she so saw fit. “You look like you just found out your best friend has only one month to live.” A beat. “Oh my god! Who told you?” Lorelai directed an innocently shocked look at Rory. “I wanted to keep it a secret and not worry you since you have Chilton and all. But I guess it’s okay for me to tell you now, what with midterms being over. I’d hate to have you find out at my funeral, and not have properly prepared you for it. But not to worry, sweetie. Mommy’s got this really cute black dress you can borrow for the occasion.” Lorelai finished with a self-satisfied grin, chuckling at her own morbid humor. She thought the joke would have brought a smile to her daughter’s face. It didn’t. “That’s not funny,” Rory remarked, softly, giving her a strange look. The grin immediately disappeared from Lorelai’s face. “Oh, honey, what is it? Is it grandma? Or grandpa?” Rory bit her lip. She couldn’t think about her mother’s teasing. She never told her what had happened at Madeline’s party during that weekend of unabashed wallowing. Still hadn’t told her. All her mother knew was that she had come home, found her sitting on the couch, surrounded by a million crumpled tissues and a huge tub of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream, ready to wallow. She hadn’t asked. And Rory probably wouldn’t have told her anyway. Well, not all of it, at any rate. So she had left out all the happenings at the dance. Had left out Madeline and Louise hooking up with two boys. Had left out Paris’s mad dash out of there after having fulfilled her mother-ordered social obligation. Had left out Summer’s slutty ways. She hadn’t even mentioned Tristan. Couldn’t even say his name. Hadn’t mentioned watching him humiliated in front of all their classmates. Hadn’t mentioned how utterly lost and confused and pained he had looked. Hadn’t mentioned the hurt she felt for him. Hadn’t mentioned their conversation. And most importantly, hadn’t mentioned the kiss. The kiss. She hadn’t said anything because it hadn’t meant anything. They had both been miserable. And that had led to the kiss. They had both been needy. That had also led to the kiss. A stupid kiss shared between two weak and miserable and needy people. Involving two individuals who needed to be reassured that they were not the insignificant persons their respective steadies had made them out to be by dumping them. Two lonely and hurting souls who had given into whatever carnal and primitive instinct that made them reach for the closest warm body available, resulting in a kiss that had been a mistake. But mostly, she hadn’t mentioned the kiss because her mother would have pried, and then Rory would have had to admit that she had kissed him back. That she had wanted to kiss him back. That the kiss had been very… nice. She didn’t want to have to think about what that said about her. About him. About their shared moment. About how she had gotten lost in his kiss. And how the soft touch and gentle pressure of his lips against hers had driven all other thoughts out of her head. Until Dean had entered her mind again and sent her running out of the room, bawling, even though she knew it would give Tristan the wrong impression, and yet helpless to stop herself. But really, the kiss hadn’t meant anything so she didn’t say anything. Instead she concentrated on Dean. It was easier that way. Thinking about Dean and the empty feeling in the pit of her stomach caused by his breakup with her helped block out all the other annoying and nagging thoughts that threatened to invade her mind. Thoughts that were illogical for her to have because they involved Tristan, the one boy she was determined to dislike, though it was getting harder to do so every time her mind wandered back to the party and their subsequent encounters afterwards. And with every passing minute, she felt herself helplessly lost, drawn, and confused about him. In the end, crying about Dean -- rather than crying over Tristan’s look of pain as she fled from him -- had seemed easier and less likely to provoke her mother into asking unnecessary questions that she had no ready answers for. “What’s wrong?” Lorelai repeated, all seriousness now. “Nothing,” she said evasively. “Oh, no, you don’t, missy,” Lorelai warned, falling onto the couch beside her. She threw her purse onto the armchair and turned to face her daughter. “’Nothing’ is not an answer. You could come up with something better than that. I’m shelling out big money for you to attend Chilton and have their overrated teachers teach you to use really big words that I can’t even spell or pronounce. So what’s really the matter?” She held up a finger. “Wait. Where did I put that darn dictionary?” She glanced around the living room clutter. Rory didn’t wait. “Nothing,” she assured, looking away. She didn’t want to get into it. If there was one thing she knew about her mother, it was that eventually, Lorelai would get her to spill everything, and then she would actually have to face those persistent thoughts that she kept trying to drown out by thinking about Dean instead. “Nothing means something. So spill,” her mother ordered, lightly. Lorelai moved so that her daughter would have to look at her. Rory sighed, quickly thinking of what she could comfortably impart and yet still satisfy an information-hungry mother. “It’s just that Paris is still upset. She found out that I was the one who told Tristan to ask her out. Now she hates me, and she hates him. Or maybe she just hates me, because I don’t think she would ever hate him. He never seems to be able to do anything wrong in her eyes. She’ll just make it all out to be my fault,” she blurted, despite herself. “Wow. She’s got some issues, huh?” Lorelai cracked, trying to make a joke that obviously fell flat. Rory didn’t laugh. “Hey, I know some people who owe me favors. We could just put her out of her misery. What do you say?” The offer was tempting. “You don’t know people. Besides, it’s just really stupid.” Rory rolled her eyes, trying to make herself seem less hurt by the loss of Paris’s friendship than she really felt. “It’s really all his fault. I merely suggested that he date her. It’s not my fault that he actually went ahead and did it even though he knew he wasn’t ready to. Or he knew that nothing was going to come out of it. It’s not like I’m the one who led her on.” She was getting upset just thinking about it. Because in fact, he hadn’t really led her on. Not really. Just told her he wanted to be friends. What was so bad about that? She couldn’t help it if Paris was the one who wanted and expected more from him. “I don’t know why she’s so in love with him. It’s not like he’s so great or anything,” she remarked, but only half-heartedly. Because over the past two weeks, she had come to the realization that she did not know Tristan DuGrey as well as she thought, after all. And what scared her the most was that some part of her actually did want to know him better, wanted to know who the real Tristan DuGrey was. “Yes. Let’s just blame it on Tristan. He’s an evil, evil boy. I mean that much is apparent from the fact that it took him weeks to learn your name,” her mother agreed wholeheartedly. She had no problems putting the blame on a boy she had never met before. A boy her daughter had complained about on numerous occasions for annoying her. But she knew it went deeper than just that. He wasn’t the problem. Or rather, he wasn’t the entire problem. “I can’t help it if he doesn’t like her in that way, just because she does. He’s the one to blame. He’s the one who started it. If he hadn’t kissed me, none of this would have happened. So as far as I see it…” Rory hadn’t even realized what she had let slip. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lorelai held out a hand, stopping her. “Back the gravy boat up a bit. He kissed you?” The look of shock on Lorelai’s face alerted Rory to her slip. Rory bit her lip again, not saying a word. But her expression said everything. “Tristan. Tristan kissed you,” Lorelai repeated, wanting to make certain she had heard right. “Paris is upset. . .” She tried to change the subject. Her mother’s wide-eyed look of shock suggested that she would not let this topic go away so easily. Better to head her off at the pass while she still had a fighting chance to get away without having to discuss The Kiss. “Hold up there. We’re still on the kissing part,” Lorelai reminded, digesting the news. “Mom, you’re not listening,” her daughter insisted, trying to steer her mother clear of that conversation. “I’m afraid I am, Ror. You said Tristan kissed you. Let’s talk about that,” Lorelai suggested eagerly. “When was this? “Madeline’s party. It was nothing. Swear. But Paris is upset that…” “That the kiss was the reason why you suggested Tristan date her?” Lorelai raised a suggestive brow. “No, that had nothing to do with it,” Rory insisted, but even she knew it didn’t sound very convincing. “Does Paris know about the kiss?” Lorelai switched gears quickly. Try to catch Rory off guard and perhaps she would spill some part of the story that she was dying to hear. “No, she doesn’t,” Rory admitted ruefully. “So she’s just as clueless as me. No wonder she’s upset. I mean, I’m upset now because you can’t just throw out a ‘he kissed me’ line and then blow it off. It would be like saying ‘hi, I lost all my arms and legs and how are you doing’ and not expect someone to ask what the hell happened. It just doesn’t happen. So what the hell happened?” Lorelai was trying hard not to look upset. Her daughter shared everything with her. And something this big didn’t just slip the mind. She was sure she should have at least heard about this. Had been the target of some much-needed advice. But so far, nothing. “Mom, you’re blowing it way out of proportion.” “Let me decide that. Now, there’s a story to be told, and dammit, I’m going to hear it. That boy has some nerve, kissing you when you were obviously hurting like that. Who does that kid think he is?” “Mom, that’s not how it happened,” Rory objected, for some reason feeling the need to defend Tristan. Lorelai quirked a brow. “It’s not?” She seemed unconvinced. “Well, I have to come to my own conclusions if you’re going to hold out on me.” “I’m not holding out. I just didn’t think it was important.” Rory’s arguments were faltering. “Oh, sweetie, I know you’re the smart one in this family, and I know that you like to keep me from worrying. But let me decide what’s important for me to know, okay? Now, you were saying?” Lorelai coaxed sweetly. When no answer was forthcoming, she continued. “Here, I’ll start it for you. Once upon a time, there was an annoying boy who did nothing but tease a girl. The girl hated the boy back. Then one day…” She gestured with her hand for Rory to continue the story. “Well… we were having a nice little talk and he kind of leaned over and… it was an accident.” She looked embarrassed. But she felt warm and flushed, and she wasn’t sure why. No, she knew why just thinking about the kiss made her feel this way. She just wasn’t ready to admit anything yet. Least of all, to herself. “No, Ror. Getting pregnant at 16 was an accident. Crashing my father’s new car into the garage door while trying to take it for a joyride was an accident. Showing up at the 10th grade spring formal wearing the same nasty bright purple dress as Chrissie Kennedy was an accident. And maybe a case of temporary insanity. I mean, who in their right mind would wear a bright purple dress to the…” She realized she was babbling. “A kiss… no, a kiss is not an accident,” Lorelai pointed out. “And that story sounds suspiciously like a censored version. Hey, remember me? I’m your mother. I think I deserve to hear all the juicy details. And don’t leave anything out. Not one tasty wink of the eye, pause, sigh, breath, significant look, or licking of the lips.” “Mom!” She was going to be nauseous. She just knew it. But hearing her mother refer to it like that caused her to recall the moment of the kiss. The way Tristan had looked as he leaned in towards her. The way he had paused, trying to gauge her reaction, waiting for her to fend him off. The way… the way she hadn’t. “Well, sorry,” Lorelai huffed, affronted. “I wasn’t there… Rory, why would you…” “We didn’t mean to…” Rory’s voice trailed off as she realized just how pathetic and lame that excuse was. She bit her lip and stayed silent. “You didn’t mean to swap spit with a guy you’ve been complaining about since you started at Chilton?” Lorelai raised a brow, telling Rory she should know better than to lie. “It was an…” Lorelai raised a hand, and waved exasperatedly. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. It was an accident. You’ve mentioned that already,” she grumbled. She paused and saw the pained expression on her daughter’s face. She sighed loudly. “So his lips slipped and ended up on yours?” Lorelai quirked a quizzical brow, disappointment in her voice. She gave Rory a look that told her she should have known better, could have at least come up with a better explanation than that. “You know that’s not how it happened,” Rory objected, sounding miffed. “Well, unless you tell me that he was walking across the room, tripped over something, fell towards you, and his face just happened to land on yours, there’s no way you can make me believe that a, it was an accident, and b, that neither of you meant to do it.” “I don’t think I want to talk about this,” Rory said suddenly, shifting in her seat so she was no longer looking in her mother’s direction. She crossed her arms over her chest, stubbornly. “Well, too bad. Because I do.” Lorelai let out a short maniacal laugh and gave Rory a little poke in the shoulders, then continued to do so until Rory sighed, exasperated. “I know my rights. I plead the fifth.” Rory swiveled in her seat to meet her mother’s eyes. Defiant. Challenging. Lorelai experienced a sense of déjà vu and wondered if she had ever done this to her own mother when she was a teenager. “Okay, Ally McBeal.” She rolled her eyes. “This isn’t a court of law. At least, not a legal one recognized by the state of Connecticut. And as judge and jury, I overrule you. Besides, your skirt isn’t short enough. I’ve got to be able to at least see panty line,” Lorelai retorted flippantly with a smirk. “Something I’m sure Tristan would thoroughly enjoy.” “That’s gross and unfair.” Rory couldn’t stop the whine. She didn’t even want to think about Tristan and panties in the same thought. “You know what’s not fair? The fact that this kiss happened two weeks ago and only now am I hearing about it.” This time, her mother’s face was dead serious. And hurt. “So?” Rory bit her lip. She had wondered when her mother would bring that up. “So life sucks. I’m waiting, and you’re talking. Now spill.” “But I don’t want to. . .” “Fine. So don’t tell me,” Lorelai sighed loudly, as if put upon. “I’ll just get it out of you sooner or later.” “Sounds like a plan,” Rory agreed whole-heartedly. But Lorelai had only been playing with her. “Rory, Tristan kissed you,” Lorelai reminded energetically, unnecessarily. She couldn’t understand why this wasn’t that big a deal to her daughter. She might not have expected a good-natured gabfest. Or even a passionate vitriolic response. But she had thought that the kiss would have at least garnered some sort of major venting session. Sigh. “Y-es.” Reluctant. Uncomfortable. “And you were going to tell me when? After the wedding?” “Mom.” “After the birth of my first grandkid, Tristan Jr.?” Rory gave her a look. “Okay, cheap shot.” “I didn’t say anything because it didn’t mean anything.” “If it didn’t mean anything, why is it such a big deal talking about it with me?” She stopped again, and sighed. “Well, did you kiss him back? Or did you deck him?” “I kinda.” Rory squirmed in her seat. “Kinda what? Kissed back or decked him? Because there’s a difference, you know. One involves a bloody and swollen face, and if done right, a body check. The other. . . well, the other could pretty much involve the same things, but the motivation behind it is entirely different.” Lorelai offered a devious grin, but the joke missed its intended target. Either that, or Rory had chosen to ignore it. The latter was a more logical choice. “The first one.” Rory sounded almost defeated. “Oh.” Well, the fact that she had kissed him back did add a whole new dimension to the problem. “So where at the party?” “What?” Rory either didn’t understand the question, or she was stalling. The smart bet was she was stalling. “Where did he kiss you?” Lorelai elaborated, trying to sound nonchalant. “On… the lips.” Of course, Tristan had never seemed to be one who was satisfied with pecks on the cheek. And just thinking of his lips made her flush. “Rory.” Lorelai gave her a look. She sighed. “We were at the piano and…” Lorelai sat up straighter, suddenly excited. “Ooh, piano! How romantic. Upright or grand?” Rory threw her an incredulous look. “What does that have anything to do with it?” Lorelai opened her mouth, but thought better of what she was going to say. Rory seemed upset enough without needing her to needle her anymore about it. “Well, did he at least serenade you first? Write you a song? Play something just for you?” “What?” Rory gave her mother a look, as if she had finally gone insane. “I’m just trying to figure out how you could kiss Tristan of all people. And I figure that the boy had to have at least written you a song or something.” “Believe me,” Rory interrupted, shaking her head despondently. “I’ve been trying to figure that out myself.” “And?” Lorelai waited patiently. “We agreed that it was a mistake, and that it didn’t mean anything,” she insisted. Lorelai didn’t mention what she thought about Rory’s protestations. “Rory, hon. You can’t just agree that a kiss didn’t mean anything. That’s not how it works. People don’t just kiss each other for no apparent reason, and they surely don’t kiss back for no reason. Well, unless you’re both just there and bored out of your mind and there’s nothing good on TV. But other than that, there’s no good reason to kiss someone unless you mean it.” “Well, that’s how it’s working for us, okay? We agreed.” She was being stubborn, and she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. “Okay. Okay. You agreed.” Pause. “You know, I don’t think I like this Don Juan very much. In fact, I think I may be starting to hate him. A lot.” Rory turned a startled eye to her mother. “Just because he kissed me?” It didn’t seem right for her mother to hate him for that one little miscalculated step on his part. Especially when she had let him, hadn’t discouraged him, and then kissed back. “Well, for one thing. There’s also that thing with the Mary. What was up with that? I mean, once or twice I get. But talk about beating a dead horse to death.” Lorelai rolled her eyes. “And of course, I’m your mother so if you hate him… well, I have to hate him, too.” “Way to make up your own opinions,” Rory remarked, sarcastically. “But I don’t… hate… him. Not really. He was just annoying…” “And I hate the fact that your knowing him has totally changed you,” Lorelai ranted. Rory didn’t dare ask if she had been changed for the good or for the bad. She didn’t have to. Lorelai answered her unspoken question for her. “You used to be able to tell me everything and anything. And now this boy has you keeping things to yourself. I don’t like that. I don’t like being kept in the dark.” “I just didn’t think it was that important,” Rory mumbled, not wanting to agree. Why did she keep most of her encounters with Tristan a secret from her mother? Was it because she didn’t want to have to go into details that would invariably force her to question how she really felt about him? Was she afraid that if she delved deep enough, she would find that underneath all the contempt and irritation with him, she actually liked him? As friends? As more than friends? Or was she scared that under all the tension and teasing disguised as insults, they would be a hopeless cause? As friends or even more. “And then there was the fact that he took advantage of your obviously vulnerable state to plant a lip lock. I mean, he’s clearly a jerk.” “He apologized,” Rory said quietly, more to herself than to her mother. Lorelai paused mid-rant and stared at Rory. “He what? Boy, this Casanova just keeps you on your toes, doesn’t he?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Before or after the kiss?” Rory looked away. “Both,” she mumbled. “Huh. Both?” Now she was confused, and rendered speechless. “He apologized for being a jerk to me, and then he didn’t even believe me when I told him that I forgave him.” Even after she assured him, he had still seemed doubtful. Unconvinced. Yet still very apologetic and sincere. That had surprised her, and given her hope that maybe he wasn’t as bad as she initially thought. A slight smile began to form across Lorelai’s lips. “Really,” she said, thoughtfully. This was a different account of the boy Rory had always had nothing good to say about. That Tristan would have probably taken her forgiveness and ran with it, not questioned it, or wouldn’t even have bothered to apologize at all in the first place. “And then, afterwards… when he thought he made me cry.” Rory looked away and sighed. The hurt on his face… She didn’t want to think about it. “So he apologized. For kissing you. And for making you cry. Even if it wasn’t his fault,” Lorelai concluded for her. She made another thoughtful look, but didn’t say anything. Rory glanced at her, suspiciously. “What?” Lorelai shrugged, but she was grinning. And Rory definitely did not like the grin. “Nothing. Just thinking that I’m loving this boy right now.” “What?” Rory gave her an incredulous look. “You just said…” She couldn’t even finish. “Well, I’ve always had a thing for underdogs. And it was sweet of him to apologize, wasn’t it? Granted, he shouldn’t have been such a jerk to begin with…” Rory rolled her eyes, exasperatedly. “Tristan is not an underdog. No way.” She refused to follow her mother’s logic. “And what about the whole Mary thing? You even said yourself that he was being a jerk for doing that.” “Pet name,” Lorelai chirped, grin getting larger. “Gross!” Rory protested. “Aw, come on, sweetie. I’m a sucker for the ‘boyisajerk; undeserving boy meets nicest girl in the world; boy changes his wanton ways for girl and shows his true colors; and former jerk boy and nicest girl live happily ever after’ thing.” Rory scrunched up her face. “Unbelievable. You watch way too much TV. And not even the good kind. That’s so cheesy. It sounds like some silly teen angst melodrama on the WB.” “Well, you are being a little melodramatic with this kiss thing, don’t you think? Sure, you probably should have waited until after you were completely over Dean first.” Lorelai quirked a brow and looked pointedly at her. “But kissing a guy is not the end of the world... unless there’s something different or special about this one. Unless he’s literally the kiss of death. And in that case, I guess I’ll be able to wear that cute little black number before you do.” Rory crossed her arms again, and looked away, irritated. “I don’t even want to talk to you anymore.” “Fine,” Lorelai agreed. “You know, I can change my mind about how I feel about him. It’s obvious that you have, too, unless you’re deluding yourself.” No response. “So go ahead. Tell me how sexy and charming he is,” she teased. Rory screwed up her face. She did not want to think of Tristan in any way, shape, or form, as sexy or charming. Even after the apology. She would rather concentrate on Dean and how awful she still felt over him. It was easier that way. Easier than thinking of people who weren’t Dean. She did not want to get all flustered thinking about Tristan. It didn’t seem right to throw away memories of Dean like that. It made him seem less than what he was. “Are you purposely trying to make me sick?” Rory sulked, retorting sarcastically. She was still upset with her mother for accusing her of being melodramatic over the kiss. She was not melodramatic. If she were, it would mean that the kiss had affected her more than she wanted to admit. That it had actually meant something. “Noo,” Lorelai groaned, exasperated. She gave Rory a playful push with her hand. After a beat, “How was it?” Lorelai smirked. And it was not appreciated by the daughter. “Mom.” “Fine. We’ll talk about it later. We’ll go into the little intimate details some other time. We’ll discuss technique. We’ll discuss hands, body, and nose placement. We’ll…” “It was nice, okay?” she answered, defeated. “Nice.” Lorelai looked skeptical. “Uh huh.” And she looked like she was going to have a physical reaction to the word. A look not unlike the one Tristan had tried to hide from her during their post-kiss conversation at Chilton. “Yes. Now, can we move on?” She really couldn’t think of a better word for it. She had been too confused over it, and her brain hadn’t been able to function quite at the verbal speed she had inherited from her mother. “What does that mean? Nice,” Lorelai mused. “Exactly what it sounds like.” It was ridiculous. Her mother was being silly. There was no reason for them to analyze it. No reason to want to revisit the event. No reason to keep bringing it up like it had meant something. No reason at all. “So are we into the deluding ourselves or was it really just… nice?” “Okay. It was very nice.” Rory had to suppress the tiny smile that came unbidden to her lips as she couldn’t help but remember the huge relieved grin that had lit up Tristan’s face when she told him that. As if he had been scared that she had been disgusted by him, and wouldn’t believe her for a second if she had assured him otherwise. “Hm. Very nice.” Lorelai let the words roll off her tongue, and hang in the air. She looked at the ceiling, thoughtfully. Then she turned back to Rory, as if hit with an epiphany. “See… okay, that word. Very. Eh. It kinda suggests that maybe you didn’t mean to say ‘nice’. That you were actually trying to say something more. Searching for something better. Better than ‘nice.’” Nothing. She didn’t like the way her mother kept bringing up that word. Or the way that she kept saying it. Like she was about to throw up or something. “Are you sure there was no swooning involved?” Still nothing. But Rory did scrunch her face incredulously at her mother for even suggesting a thing. Swooning. For Tristan. As if. He wished. “Hmm. Maybe I should meet this Romeo. He’s obviously got some superhuman powers if one kiss from him can make my normally very outspoken daughter absolutely speechless and embarrassed to even tell her mother about something as simple as said kiss.” “There are no superhuman powers involved. Trust me. And you’re the one who’s outspoken. Not me.” “Potato, potahto. You are my daughter.” No response. “So are you going to tell me everything? We’ll be like girls and get all giggly and giddy about it.” Again no response. “Or are you just going to hold out on me and give me the silent treatment.” “That one.” “Fine. I get it. Take your time. Digest. Analyze. Think. Rethink. Get back to me on it. But promise me that you’ll at least let me know before the next one.” “You’re horrible.” “I live to tease.” “And you’re mean.” “I just want you to explain to me how you can kiss the one guy that you once couldn’t stop disliking with a passion, and not want to talk about it. Not want to at least rant and vent about his audacity. Or complain about his nerve. Or how his lips were dry. Or how his breath reeked. Or how there was too much saliva involved. Or…” “I’m leaving now.” Rory stood up, giving her mother a disgusted look. No, she did not want to talk about those things with her. Especially not about him. Especially when she’d have to tell her that every one of those things were untrue. How his lips weren’t dry, or how his breath didn’t reek, or how there wasn’t too much saliva. And then she would have to tell her how the pressure of his lips on hers had sent tingles all the way to her fingertips and down to her toes. How his pre-kiss look had had the same effect. How everything had been so close to perfect… except for one thing. One person. Dean. And she really didn’t want to end up comparing the two boys. Didn’t even want to think about how Dean’s looks and kisses had never generated that level of smoldering unconsciousness in her. Never made her afraid that she would faint if she got too lost in his kisses. “You know I’m just going to keep bugging you until you tell me everything. Because if the kiss wasn’t horrible, then it must have been great. And if it was great, then we really need to talk. And remember, details are everything. I want the whole entire picture. I want to be able to visualize the two of you making out in front of me.” Rory gave her a horrified and disgusted look. It was obvious that her mother was teasing, but still, the thought that she would want enough details to recreate the scene herself was incredible. “I’ll call you if there is a next time. You can take a picture. It’ll last longer,” Rory retorted. “So you’re not saying no to a next time,” Lorelai noted, wryly. “I’ll see you later. Maybe.” “That’s the spirit. Let’s passive-aggressive our way into denial. Rory and Tristan… sitting in a tree…,” Lorelai began in a sing-song voice. “I’m going. Bye,” Rory cut her off. “Later, prep school slut,” Lorelai countered, grinning. “I hate you.” “See? Now we’re finally having that normal mother-daughter relationship we always see those beautiful people on TV having. And we were wrong. It doesn’t just happen on TV. It can happen in real life, too.” “Goodbye, Mother.” Lorelai tilted her head back to watch Rory open the front door with a huff. “Hey, where are you going?” No answer. Rory just threw her a disgusted look over her shoulders. “Well… say hi to Tristan for me,” Lorelai teased. And was answered by the slamming of the front door.
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