Title: Girl Like That

Authors: Mrs. Witter (Jamie) and ChristineCS (Chris, duh)

Disclaimer: Jamie and I, despite the harem we own (we know it creates mass confusion about the ownership thing), do not own Gilmore Girls, their characters, matchbox twenty, their songs or Rob's awesome writing talent. We also don't own Mark Paul Gosselaar, but you'll have to think about why that is added. We do however claim ownership on our own writing. So consider yourself warned.

Rating: PG – 13

Pairing: Rory/Tristan

Chapter 1: Haven't seen you lately, but I know that nothing's changed.

"To the left," Rory Gilmore instructed her mother as she backed into the doorway, bending down to grasp the wooden trunk by its metal handles. She used her free hand to tuck her hair behind her ear. The trunk swerved a little to the right. "The other left, Mom! The other left!"

"Sweetie, calm down, I only have one left," Lorelai Gilmore replied. "I'm doing the best I can here. What'd you pack in this thing anyway, every single book in existence?"

She tugged at the trunk, getting over the threshold and then groaned as a muscle in her arm cramped. "I packed every single book I own."

"So yes, then," Lorelai said with a sigh as they stepped into the room. "This looks like a good place to put it."

Rory scanned the room, eyes wide. There were two twin beds on opposite sides of the room, a large bay window right across from where they were standing, and lighting up the entire room with sunshine. The window seats were wood paneled and looked as if someone had scrubbed them with lemon Pledge. "Wow."

"My exact response, as well," came a voice from behind them. Lorelai turned to see a petite girl walking into the room with strawberry blonde hair so light that it was nearly pink, and her face sprinkled with freckles. "I'd be Schuyler Vaughn Claymore, the roommate, by the way."

"Well that's quite a mouthful," Lorelai commented.

Rory shot her mother a look before giving the other girl a friendly smile and her hand to shake. "Hi! I'm Lorelai Leigh Gilmore. Rory actually. And the one with the glib tongue is my mom, Lorelai. Lorelai Victoria. Not Leigh."

She shook it, "Okay, I think I got that. And you don't have to go around calling me Vaughn Claymore, or even try to wrap your tongue around Schuyler. Vaughn is fine, and I don't have parents with me. So it's just...me."

"That's good," Rory replied and then looked at the beds trying to decide which side to put her stuff without offending the other girl. She looked at Vaughn and the raised an expectant eyebrow. "Have you picked a side, yet?"

"Oh no," Vaughn shook her head; her strawberry-blonde curls swaying with it. "Any side is fine."

Rory hated making these kinds of decisions. When people said that things were "fine" by them, how was she to know if they meant it or if they were being polite? What if she picked the left side and secretly Vaughn wanted that particular side and ended up hating her the whole year? She sighed and left it up to Fate. "I'll take the right."

"So then it's settled, Vaughn gets left, Rory gets right," Lorelai stepped in. "Now I'm going to go get the rest of Rory's stuff and leave you two to decide whether you are going to become best friends or absolutely hate each other." With a jaunty wave, she was off.

Rory smiled nervously at her new roommate and offered her the best reason she could muster without sounding like she was freak. "She had a lot of coffee this morning."

"I understand," Vaughn replied, stepping further into her room and dropping the duffel bag she had been carrying onto the left bed. "I get like that after too many Vanilla Chai's."

Rory smiled, deciding instantly that Vaughn was going to be fun to get to know. She walked over to her bed and dropped her backpack on it and turned around again, assessing her new room again and realizing that her trunk would fit nicely at the foot of her bed. "So where are you from?"

"New York City," Vaughn replied, sitting down onto her bare bed. It was too firm, but that could easily be fixed the next day. "Lately of Greenwich, though."

"Really? Wow, New York City." She thought of Jess. She knew it was foolish and girly but he was her only link to that place. Her only important memory of that city, of those people. She couldn't help it if her mind had already associated the Big Apple with her ex-boyfriend. It seemed associate everything with him, lately.

"Well only until I was of age for boarding school," Vaughn shrugged. "So I didn't really get a chance to enjoy it as it should be. Though I was there long enough so I stopped gaping at the interior of the Trump tower."

Rory's interest was piqued. "Boarding school? Wow, that must have been hard to adjust to. I mean, being away from your family and everything."

"It's easier than one would think," Vaughn replied, and better too, depending on your family. "Almost like early college."

Rory nodded and crossed over to the window, looking out at the bustling activity below. It was hard to believe she was really here, standing in her dorm room at Yale. It had taken her a while to accept that she wasn't living the dream she had planned for herself since she was eight – the dream of attending Harvard. But lengthy talks with her grandparents and even lengthier fights with her mother had led her to this place, to this decision. Yale was where she had ended up and that really wasn't a bad place to land. She was a part of the Gilmore legacy, Richard had intoned. It felt…nice.

~*~

Freedom was elusive as ever to Tristan DuGrey. He thought he had freedom when he was able to leave Chilton and his life in Hartford, but then military school seemed to imprison him further. Upon graduation he believed that perhaps he could finally live his own life, not the life dictated by his parents. But no, here he was at Yale University, at the Ivy League school his parents had hand chosen for him upon birth. At least, he could comfort himself with the knowledge that he came up to New Haven alone, would go to his dorm alone and would unpack alone. No parental units within sight. It was the same knowledge that had comforted him all through the two years spent at military school.

He ran a hand through his blonde hair, that he had allowed growing a little long over the summer, perhaps enjoying the freedom of not having a buzz cut a little too much. But it curled beneath his ears, so it wasn't too long yet. Really, he would cut it before he started to look like a flat-chested Sharon Stone. With that thought, he readjusted the strap on his duffel bag and pushed open his dorm room. He found it mostly bare, except for the mountains of suitcases stacked up neatly beside a bed. His, obviously his stuff had been shipped down and left. Beside the other bed, there were suitcases thrown upon the bed. Clearly his roommate had brought his own luggage in.

"Gonna let it rock, let it roll," Cole Montgomery sang as he stepped out of the bathroom and back into his dorm room. He thought he had a pretty good voice. In fact, if the whole college experience wasn't for him he could definitely make a career as a pop star. Wouldn't that make the old man proud? "Let the Bible Belt come down and save my soul. Hold on to 16 as long as you can changes come around real soon. Make us women and men!"

Tristan snapped attention at the sudden noise. Really, too much time spent in a military setting could effect a person's reactions. He turned to see a tall, dark haired guy coming out of the bathroom. "They never told me my roommate was John Mellencamp, Jr."

Cole turned to the owner of the smug tone and found himself staring at a leaner, more tanned version of Ryan Phillippe. With really bad hair. Must be from California, Cole thought to himself with a sigh. "That's me – Yale's best kept secret."

"That's because if they had told people about you, it would only set them up for disappointment," Tristan shook his head. "And that just wouldn't be good for Yale's reputation."

This guy was good with the comebacks. If nothing else, at least they could spar intelligibly, which was more than he could say about his previous roommate – his bratty sixteen-year-old sister, Veronica. A smirk made its way to Cole's lips. "Well they're obviously not too concerned with their reputation. It seems like they're letting anyone in these days."

"I can tell," Tristan replied looking pointedly at Cole, before giving up the spar and stretching his hand out. "Tristan DuGrey."

"Cole Montgomery," he answered as they shook hands. "I took the liberty of choosing my side of the room. That is after I managed to get climb over those suitcases. Not a big fan of letting go, are you?"

"Actually a huge fan of it," he answered, his eyes straying to his mountain of suitcases. "So are the people in my house apparently, I didn't pack."

"Ah," Cole stated and gave him a knowing half grin. Aloof families. Cold, blue blood. He understood that a little too well. He gestured towards the bed. "It may not be the king-sized bed you're used to but it's quite comfortable. And the bathroom is spotless – for now. No Jacuzzi in there yet but just give me time."

"Trust me, the bed is better than what I'm use to," hell, the floor was better than those rock hard cots they had at that school. "Any other luxuries that are here, or soon to be put in here that I should be aware of?"

"I'm trying to see if I can fit in a mini-bar but I'll get back to you on that one too," Cole answered as he started to rummage through his suitcases, looking for his wallet. Then he grinned at the other guy over his shoulder. "And a karaoke machine to hone my singing skills."

"Mini-bar, yes. But regarding anything that'll hone your singing skills goes into the laundry room," Tristan warned him.

"DuGrey," Cole stated and then smiled triumphantly when he located his wallet. "You will learn to appreciate me and my singing talents. Hey you never know, one day I may even let you come on tour with me. You're a very lucky man."

"Well then I guess that's just all a matter of perception," Tristan gestured at Cole's wallet. "Going some where with that?"

"To get myself a strong cup of coffee," he answered as he stuffed the wallet into his pocket. "I let you settle in. Can I get you anything?"

Tristan shook his head, "No, I'm fine."

Cole nodded and stepped over Tristan's suitcases and headed for the door. "Have fun."

~*~

John Mellencamp, Cole thought with a derisive snort as he recalled his new roommates words. He was better than that pansy. He rounded the corner and headed down the street to the conveniently located Starbucks. At least now he didn't have to go hunting for a good café in between classes. The familiar aroma of coffee filled his senses and he stood for a minute at the entrance, relishing in it. Most people thought he was crazy but they did not understand his addiction, his obsession. Coffee was a Godsend.

Vaughn leaned against the counter as she watched, well she didn't exactly know his name but had labeled him as "cute counter boy", make her latte. Coffee was on her top five list of the best things in the world. Right under Vanilla Chai and Chocolate, of course. She let her violet gaze draw away from cute counter boy, a good thing seeing as he had a wedding ring on, and to the patrons. For a Starbucks it was rather empty, but then again that may be just because she was use to the overcrowded ones of New York. She sighed, even though it was empty, it seemed as if it were taking cute counter boy forever.

Cole swaggered over to the counter, glad that the only person in line was a petite girl that was suddenly looking a little too familiar. His brows drew together as he took in her height and that particular shade of blonde that was so…unusual. Yet it stuck in his memory. He couldn't put his finger on it but this girl was rapidly becoming intriguing and he'd only seen her from behind. And what a behind it is.

Vaughn let her gaze drift over to the new addition to the counter. Tall, dark hair, not bad. Looked slightly familiar, but so did half the other people she saw in passing. She discreetly perused him before seeing his eyes. Something about those eyes...oh, hell. "Always knew I'd be able to spot a Montgomery anywhere." She said out loud, with a heavy sigh. Such an encounter was inevitable, if he was in New Haven that could mean only one thing, and why put something terrible off when it could be done with few witnesses?

When she'd first turned those violet eyes on him he'd been so shocked at seeing her there that he could not form the words. That hair, those eyes. Schuyler. She spoke, that tone so oddly comforting that it was logical that everything in him reacted to it violently. He closed his eyes briefly (yes, he hoped she was a figment of his wild imagination) and then opened them again. "Shit."

"Well you got the first letter right, anyway," Vaughn told him as she accepted her (finally ready) latte and paid cute counter boy, who had suddenly lost his appeal. "But that's more than I would have expected from you."

"Schuyler Vaughn." He let the name roll off his tongue. It was a mouthful. It was…so her. Last time he'd seen her; she hadn't had quite that figure and could never fill a shirt to that…capacity. The eyes were still the same – vivid, so damn attractive. The hair was curly and looked soft. And that mouth. Still delectable. "I'll be damned."

"That's been certain for a long time, Cole," Vaughn replied, taking a sip of her latte. Mmm, heaven. Now that coffee was going through her blood, perhaps her mind would return to normal and Cole Montgomery wouldn't look quite so attractive. It was an unwritten law somewhere that said Montgomery's couldn't have abs, although it sure looked like Cole had some nice ones. Maybe she just needed another sip.

Damn. He hated how much better his name sounded coming from her. She rarely ever used his first name, he remembered. He shook his head and turned to the counter to place his order. When he turned, she was still there looking at him with those eyes of hers. "How long has it been, Claymore? Six years?" It seemed longer.

Hmmm…really? Vaughn couldn't really remember, seeing as she tried to block out memories of before boarding school from her mind. But still, she replied, "Yeah. Best six years of my life."

He reached out to take his up of coffee, running his tongue over his upper teeth to bite back a scathing remark and simply look amused. "From St. Helene's to Yale. You are going to Yale, aren't you?"

She wasn't looking at his tongue, really. "No, actually I thought I'd put my education to waste and spend my time boosting up New Haven's Community College's average GPA by attending there."

That quick tongue of hers; he'd forgotten how sharp it could be. And how annoying. "So are you all settled in? Make any friends? Although, you were pretty crappy at making any friends when we were younger."

"That's because you were always near by," Vaughn returned, sipping at her latte, it was going cold while she stood her exchanging insults with him. At least it was one more thing she could blame him for. "Once you were gone, I found myself with more friends than I'd ever imagine. What about you? Ever lose that imaginary one- what's his name- Mickey, and get real ones?"

He started to chuckle. "Schuyler Vaughn, it's amazing how you haven't changed."

She licked the foam off the edge of her cup. "And it's amazing how much like your father you've turned out to be."

Those words cut a little too deep. His muscles tensed but he managed to keep an outward appearance of calm. His words however, came out cold. "Well, I wish I could say it's been a pleasure talking to you, Schuyler. But we both know I never lie. I need to go unpack. See you around."

Oh, she hoped not. "Not if luck's with me, Montgomery." Vaughn lifted her cup to him, a form of goodbye, and hopefully a long term one. And then she finished off her latte, and got back into line for another one. Now that Montgomery was around, it appeared that she was going to need a lot of coffee to get through the year.

Cole shook his head in disbelief and annoyance before stalking out of the door. Claymore at Yale, he thought with disdain. God help us all.