A/N: I would once again like to thank everyone for your encouraging reviews on my last chapter, they truly mean the world to me. The park mentioned in this chapter is real, if you would like to learn more about it you can find information here: .
Thanks to Melissa and Janine for providing me with encouragement and inspiration. Also thanks to the greatest betas ever, Surya (without whom I would have no titles) and Jamie, this fic would be nothing but a partially created idea on my computer if it weren't for their support and encouragement, they are my support, my sounding board and my inspiration, and I love them for it.
Once again, all good things come to those who wait, so yes, the trory is coming, just please be patient and enjoy the build up.
Chapter 3: A Crash Course in Phone Etiquette
Rory looked down at her hands; staring at the phone number she had memorized half an hour ago in her right and the phone that was getting sweaty in her left. This was becoming ridiculous, she had spent the better part of the last hour debating whether or not she should call him, or if she should wait. Perhaps two days was too presumptuous, she didn't want to seem over eager but then she didn't want too much time to pass either. Is this how boys felt when they asked girls, she wondered, grateful that she wasn't male and didn't necessarily have to worry about making the first move on a daily basis.
The first move, the words rung in her head, is that what she was doing? Was she making the first move? Or had he already done that when he had told her to call him? Did she want any moves to have been made? This was Tristan DuGrey, a boy she had said she hated, but even then she knew there was no truth behind the proclamation. Sure he had made her life hell on more than one occasion but part of her reveled in the way he kept her on her toes, made her think and act.
She shook her head; this was getting her no where, all she had managed to do was flatten the carpet beneath her feet from her constant pacing. What was the big deal anyway? He told her to call, she should just call. He didn't have to know that it took her an hour and a half after she had come home from the party to find his number, scrawled on a paper from junior year when they had been working on Romeo and Juliet. He didn't have to know that she then placed it on her desk and stared at the paper from her bed for another half hour before going to bed and then completely ignored it the following day pretending that she didn't want to use it. This was made even harder by Lorelai's constant questions and nagging about the party, and what happened and why she had a slightly loopy expression on her face, all of which she had somehow managed to dodge, for the time being at least. And now she was alone in the house, her mom had left two hours ago after being called in to an emergency at the Dragon Fly and she was left by herself with the number, mocking her.
Looking at the phone one more time, she started to punch in the numbers. She managed six of the seven digits before her nerves kicked in once more and she quickly turned it off, afraid that if she didn't it would somehow dial the last number itself and then she would be screwed. She knew once she hit all the digits she couldn't hang up, he was rich, she reasoned, there was no way he didn't have caller id. He would see that she had called and hung up and laugh at her, she could see it now, she would be some big joke.
Staring at her hands again she flopped down onto the couch wondering what was wrong with her. This was Tristan DuGrey, an old almost friend, it shouldn't be such a big deal to just call him. He had told her to call, which meant he had to have wanted to hear from her, there was no reason to be so nervous, no reason at all.
Except that this was Tristan DuGrey and while she didn't know much when it came to him, she knew she wanted to know more, she knew that no one could rile her up the way that he did, she knew that no one had ever left her as flustered and embarrassed as he could. Most of all she knew that she liked it, some time while staring at his number before bed she had decided to stop deluding herself. There was something there between them, what she wasn't sure, but for once in her life she wanted to find out.
She quickly punched in the numbers, bringing the phone to her ear, not willing to allow another second's thought on the matter. The phone rang once, twice, before a polished voice answered, "DuGrey Residence."
She let out a relieved sigh glad she would have another moment before she spoke to him. "Hi. This is Rory, um Rory Gilmore, I was hoping I could speak to Tristan," she managed to get out in a rush, berating herself for sounding so unsure of herself.
"I'm sorry, Tristan isn't in at the moment. You can reach him on his cell phone. Good Day," the curt female voice responded before promptly hanging up.
Rory stared at the phone a moment, not believing that the woman on the other end had just hung up on her. How could she just hang up? She didn't have Tristan's cell phone number. What was this lady thinking? Didn't she know how long it had taken to actually call his house, and now not only was she not allowed to leave a message but she wasn't given the number she needed to call.
She hit redial, frustrated and angry, this wasn't how this was supposed to go at all. Again the phone was answered by the curt female voice.
"Hi. This is Rory Gil-"
"I told you Miss, Tristan is out," interjected the voice, cutting her off and causing her frustration and anger to grow further.
"Yes, I know," Rory responded trying her best to sound polite, but not sure she had managed to pull it off. "I was hoping you could give me the number of his cell phone, I don't have it."
The lady on the other end made a noise that Rory thought sounded almost indignant but she couldn't be sure before rattling off Tristan's number, barely giving Rory enough time to jot it down before she once again hung up with a brisk "Good Day."
Rory stared at the phone dumbfounded. She couldn't believe how this woman had treated her. Was it really that hard to be polite? She idly wondered if that was how everyone who called was treated, but couldn't imagine it being so, she was sure her grandparents would have mentioned something about the DuGrey's rude help if that had been the case.
She put down the phone, still fuming at how she was treated, allowing her anger to take over for the time being because despite the courage she had manifested in order to call his house she knew she would have to find even more to call his cell.
He hadn't given her that number, he wouldn't be expecting her to call it. What if he didn't want her to call him on his cell phone? What if it was too personal? Perhaps he would think she was being too pushy, invading his space or something like that. Maybe she should wait, try his house again later, but then the thought of encountering the evil phone woman again caused her to instantly nix that idea. So she had to call his cell, and she should do it now. Now, before her mom came home and mocked her for staring at the phone and hounded her for information she wasn't ready to divulge just yet. Now, before she lost her nerve completely, or had she done that already?
She picked up the phone again, staring at it, then at the newly acquired number in her other hand, the ink taunting her. She could do this, she knew she could, she just needed a minute, a minute to regain her composure. All she had to do was dial the numbers. It really wasn't that hard, perhaps he wouldn't hear it ring or had it turned off, then she could just leave a message and the ball would be in his court, her move made. Of course, she knew her luck and that would never happen, she wasn't even sure why she wanted it to happen.
What was the big deal anyway? He had told her to call. His words rung in her head plain as day and she groaned looking at her hands once more, here we go again.
~*~
"So, what do you think?" Tristan asked eagerly, as he watched her face for a reaction.
"I think," she replied, rolling her eyes as she took in their surroundings but failing to keep a smile from tugging at her lips, "I think, you are insane."
It was his turn to roll his eyes as he draped an arm over her shoulder, using the other one to indicate the park around them, "I already knew that, Paris. I was actually wondering what you thought of this lovely park here."
She fell into step with him, not bothering to shrug his arm off his shoulder as he led them in the direction of the carousel. Inwardly she couldn't be more pleased at his choice in location, it had been years since she had been here and was almost certain the last had been with him. They used to come to Bushnell Park regularly, before life and school and growing up got in the way, they would spend hours riding the carousel, not caring that they were keeping prime ponies to themselves. Then when they had enough of that they would walk around, sometimes watching a performance in the pavilion, other times finding a secluded grassy area where they could just lay and watch the sky, occasionally pointing out particularly interesting clouds.
Paris sighed, that seemed like years ago. A lot had changed since then and they had grown apart, made new friends, yet somehow he seemed to know exactly what to do to surprise her, to make her want forget about all the bad blood between them and just fall back into the friendship they once had.
Tristan looked down at his companion contemplatively wondering what was running through her head. He had brought her here to show her that he was serious, that he wanted to be her friend again, and he was willing to try and put the effort into it. When he had called her, he hadn't been sure of where he should take her, but once he thought about it, there seemed no better place to rekindle their friendship.
As the carousel came into view, Paris stopped walking, taking in the grandeur and beauty even in the daylight. Then she turned to Tristan a smile playing on her lips, "I get Dane, you have to ride Lucy."
He chuckled as they continued walking, "We'll see about that."
She looked at him, narrowing her eyes into a glare, "He's my horse," she proclaimed indignantly.
"Only because you forced me to ride the pink one, while you got the green one."
"You're the one who named them," she shot back.
"You're the one who said we had to ride the same horses all the time."
"They were the best," she responded dismissively, "besides, you agreed."
By now they had reached the line for the carousel and were oblivious to the various parents and children watching the two young adults argue like eight year olds. Their banter continued until a shrill ringing from Tristan's pocket cut them off.
Tristan looked at Paris apologetically before reaching into his pocket and pulling out the small silver phone, glancing at the number briefly before flipping it open and putting it up to his ear with a "Hey."
Paris listened half-heartedly to Tristan's side of the conversion, idly wondering who was on the other end of the line.
"Yeah, I know, but I have plans." Paris wondered if she should let him know that it was okay and he could go do whatever it is the other person wanted. It didn't matter that she didn't really think it was okay, she didn't want him to think he had to be here with her, even if he was the one to initiate this trip down memory lane in the first place.
"I realize this, but I'll be home all summer."
Hearing his virtual repetition of his previous answer Paris opened her mouth to speak, her mind made up, "Tristan," When he didn't even look at her, she lightly tapped his shoulder, finally having his attention she spoke, "its okay, you can go do whatever, it's not a big deal."
He looked at her skeptically for a moment, not really believing her, before waving her off completely and returning his attention to the person on the other end of the phone. "Look, I've gotta go. Talk to you later." He paused a moment, listening to the other end before taking the phone away from his ear and snapping it shut.
"You didn't have to stay here with me, you know."
He looked up at Paris, studying her face for a moment without saying a word, then he simply shrugged returning his arm to its place on her shoulder before replying, "You really don't think I would ditch you before I got a chance to ride Lucy, did you?"
She laughed, a light melodic noise that he realized he hadn't heard nearly enough in the past six or seven years. "I see how it is. You're here for the horse not me," she tried her best to sound indignant but failed miserably.
"No see," he said in a whisper, leaning down so his lips brushed her ear as he spoke, "It's all about impressing the beautiful blonde."
Her cheeks turned red from his words or his proximity she wasn't sure which either way she didn't miss his smirk a he stood upright again, watching her in amusement. Never one to back down, she looked around a moment, before turning to him in response, "I am not sure he is all too impressed, but perhaps if you went and talked to him, instead of hanging all over me…" she trailed off indicating a fairly attractive blond boy watching presumably his sibling from the side of the carousel.
Tristan blanched at the idea, but couldn't help his chuckle, "He's not really my type. You on the other hand…"
She jabbed him in the ribs, before looking at him seriously, "Friends."
The one word brought him back to reality, remembering his words to her, not two days before and realizing he wasn't being fair, but then how could he not flirt? It was then that he realized that a friendship with Paris was going to be a lot more complicated than he had originally thought, though he ever thought it would be simple he didn't know.
"How many, sir?" the voice broke him out of his revere and he looked up to see an elderly man standing in front of the gate. It was then he noticed they had made it to the front of the line.
Noticing that Tristan had yet to respond to the simple question Paris answered digging into her pocket, "Two."
Just as she was about to give the man her dollar, Tristan stopped her, seeming to have come to his senses, he pushed her hand aside giving the man a five dollar bill and shaking his head as he went to give him change. "We'll ride five times if that is okay?"
The elderly man simply nodded, waving the teens through the gate.
As the two stepped into the gated area surrounding the carousel it was as if they had stepped back in time, the awkward moment from seconds ago forgotten as they rushed around the carousel trying to find their respective horses. Paris spotted them first and was beside them in a flash, just beating out a small boy who seemed to want Paris's green horse. She simply glared at the little boy, causing tears to spring to his eyes as he ran in the opposite direction, deciding it was best to have a horse far away from the scary blonde girl.
Tristan couldn't contain his laughter at the site, which earned him a glare of his own causing him to laugh that much harder making it very difficult for him to get on his pink horse. Once he had finally managed to get his laughter in check and was seated comfortably on Lucy he turned towards Paris. "I can't believe you almost made that little boy cry," he said shaking his head with amusement.
"He was going to steal our horses," she replied as if her reasoning was perfectly logical.
"We could have gotten them next run," he returned with a smile, letting her know that despite his words he was grateful they had their horses.
Before she had a chance to reply the ride started up and the two simply sat enjoying the moment. As the ride spun in slow circles, the horses moving up and down along their poles Paris and Tristan forgot for a moment that they were eighteen and for a moment, a moment that lasted until the ride slowly came to a stop, they were twelve again.
Their first ride seemed to end all too soon, and the teens watched silently as most of the riders got off the ride. As new people filtered on Paris turned to Tristan who seemed to be lost in thought. "Tristan," her voice bringing him back to the present, "thank you." When he looked at her questioningly she added, for today, for bring me here, I can't remember the last time I had this much fun."
Her words caused a smile to take over his face as he responded, "It's not over yet, we still have four more rides here and then I plan on cloud watching. Don't think you're getting out of that."
His smile infectious, she returned it with ease, "I wouldn't dream of it." And then once again the ride started in motion and the two allowed themselves to travel back in time some more.
~*~
"Come on Par, that looks nothing like a turtle. It's more of an otter if anything?"
"Do you even know what an otter looks like?" Paris shot back, giving her companion an incredulous look before turning her attention back to the aforementioned cloud. "It's a turtle."
"Yes, I know what an otter looks like, it looks like that cloud," Tristan responded stubbornly goading her into an argument, pointing at the cloud in an attempt to accentuate his point.
"It looks nothing like an otter, Tristan," she replied annoyance creeping into her voice. "What on earth did they teach you at that military school?" she added almost as an afterthought.
He chuckled at her question; everything came back to schooling in one way or another where Paris was concerned. "They taught me that clouds like the one we are looking at resemble an otter," he taunted. He knew what he was doing, getting her riled up for the fun of it. He knew he shouldn't, but he couldn't help it, she made it so easy and it was so much fun.
"It's a turtle; it isn't even close to looking like an otter. Maybe you need glasses," Paris shot back snippily.
"I don't need glasses, Paris, but maybe you do," he shot back, leering at the blonde girl.
It was then that Paris chose to divert her attention from the clouds to Tristan. Noting his smirk and the amusement in his eyes, she didn't hesitate before smacking his arm, hard, all the while muttering, "Asshole."
"Damn it," he bit out rubbing his arm, "that hurt."
"You deserved it," she countered.
"Come on, I was just having some fun," he pleaded, giving her his best look of repentance.
Paris merely turned her head in the opposite direction, pretending to be interested in her nails.
"Pa-ris," Tristan chided in a sing-song voice, as he moved closer to her, this only caused her to turn her head to glare in his direction before turning back around. "Come on, you know you were right, but where's the fun if I just agree? You know you enjoy the debate," he added, shifting so that he was facing her, and placing his hand on her cheek so she couldn't look away, yet again.
The earnest look in his eyes and the feel of his hand on her cheek were making it nearly impossible for her too hold her grudge. She was always a bit weak when it came to Tristan, and the fact that he was currently touching her, his hand now gently caressing her skin, caused her to practically forget why she was annoyed in the first place.
"Paris?" his voice came out low and husky, as he moved in closer to her, she held her breath as she waited for the contact, her eyes slipping shut despite her head's protest, telling her they were just going to be friends, and he really couldn't do this to her. But her body wasn't having any of it, the feel of his touch on her skin and the overwhelming sensations taking over her body as he moved in closer, was enough to tune out her head. Of course it wasn't quite enough to tune out the shrill sound of his cell phone, or the immediate loss she felt as he pulled away, a sheepish look on his face as he ran his hand through his hair before reaching in his pocket and pulling out the phone.
Annoyed at herself for getting worked up, she faced the other direction as he answered his phone, content to compose herself and forget what just almost happened while he talked to whoever was on the phone.
She was intent on ignoring his conversation entirely but when his deep chuckle reached her ears, she couldn't stop her curiosity from getting the best of her, and she turned back around, listening in on his side of the conversation.
He didn't speak for another moment or two, but the genuine smile on his face and the amused look in his eye was all she needed to know that whoever was on the other end was definitely female and definitely someone he was fond of, and then as he spoke she couldn't help the stab of anger and jealousy that hit her as her face contorted into a scowl as she continued to listen.
~*~
"Rory-" and then when she continued her long winded, rambling apology without pause Tristan added, "Mary," that got her attention, or at least she was stopping for air, giving him enough time to respond. "I'm glad you called, I wasn't so sure you would."
"Oh," he could see her face, the concentrated look she had had while she was explaining herself for calling his cell dropping slightly at his revelation, not ready for the conversation to actually be that. "Well, good, because I was hoping we could maybe get together sometime, you know, hang out, catch up. I'd love to hear about military school and everything else you have been up to, and I can fill you in on all the Chilton gossip, though I suppose Louise might be better suited for that, but I could do my best and it was just nice seeing you again," her voice became softer as she finished, surprising them both at the tenderness it seemed to posses.
Almost as if he sensed that while she meant what she said, she would be more comfortable, at least for now, if he played it off, he responded, "Oh yeah? Any chance you'd like to show me how nice?"
He ignored Paris's snort of disgust, instead concentrating on the phone as Rory answered, her voice dropped in what he could only describe as a sexy purr, "the thought had crossed my mind."
"Then please, Miss. Gilmore, name the time and place and I will be there, eagerly waiting," he responded teasingly, enjoying this more confident, more flirtatious Rory.
"Tomorrow, my house, one o'clock," then added quickly, "that is if you're not already doing something."
He couldn't help the smile that overtook his features at the uncertainty that crept into her voice, it was also nice knowing she hadn't changed all that much. "I'll be there," he shot a glance at Paris, noting her scowl and the hurt look in her eyes, he continued, "but I should get going."
"Oh, okay, of course," she replied and he couldn't help the elation he felt at the inflection of disappointment in her tone.
"I'll see you tomorrow. Oh and Rory?"
"Yeah?"
"It was nice seeing you again too," his voice mirrored her earlier softness, and as he clicked the phone shut, he couldn't help but hope his words had put a smile on her face.
~*~
When he turned around, preparing himself to deal with Paris, he was mildly surprised to find that she wasn't there, it wasn't like Paris to avoid confrontation, not that he wanted to have a confrontation, but knowing Paris he assumed that's what was coming. He hadn't been anticipating this, quickly he made his way out of the secluded area they had found earlier, trying to figure out where she had gone off to, hoping that she hadn't decided to find her own way home and was still counting on him for a ride. Though if she had left, it would be a lot easier to wait for her at the Gellar mansion then try and find her here. He scanned the park, trying to figure out what direction she had gone in as she couldn't have gone far, yet.
Spotting what could possibly Paris's blonde head moving towards the opposite end of the park; he took off in a sprint, hoping to catch up with her before she got there. This wasn't hard as she was walking at an almost leisurely pace and once he reached her, his hand reached out, automatically clamping on her shoulder, in an effort to stop her in her progress. He didn't expect the piercing scream that followed or the hard thwack to his midsection, as she struggled from his grasp. Easing his hold, turned to stare, he realized the mistake he had made. While her hair and petite frame were similar to Paris's this woman was clearly not the one her had been searching for. Normally he would have spent a few moments making she was okay and that he meant her no harm, but the longer he stayed here the more of a chance Paris had to go elsewhere, so he muttered an apology and took off in the same direction he was going, deciding, he should continue this direction before heading off in another.
As Tristan made his way across the park, he pulled out his cell phone once more, scrolling through the numbers until he found Paris's cell, hitting send he hoped she actually picked up. The phone continued to ring, the sound vibrating in his ear as he scanned various sections of the park he passed. He stopped when he heard her voice, ready to apologize and find out where she was, only he soon realized that it was just a recording and he had gotten her voicemail. He silently cursed under his breath as he hung up the phone, clearly annoyed, either she knew it was him and wasn't answering or she hadn't heard it ring at all. He couldn't help but hope it was the latter as he continued his search.
Half an hour later and he had still not found her, he decided that his best bet was to wait for her by the car, she knew where he was parked and he hoped she would turn up sooner or later. His mind was running a mile a minute as he made his way towards the parking lot, it seemed like forever ago that Rory had called and even longer since he and Paris were laying amicably on the grassy knoll. He knew Paris was upset, he knew why Paris was upset, but at the same time he couldn't help but think that Paris really didn't have a right to be upset. They had agreed to just be friends, therefore it shouldn't matter who he flirts with, or sees. But then why did you try and kiss her, again?
He didn't have time to ponder the question because as he neared his car he realized that the object of his thoughts was there, sitting on the trunk staring off in the opposite direction. Tristan took a moment to study her, her long blonde hair was still a mess from lying on the ground earlier and blowing slightly in the light summer breeze. What caught his attention was how she was sitting, her knees were tucked under her chin as her arms circled her legs, she looked so very much like a child and in that moment he wanted nothing more to wrap her in his arms, smooth the hair away from her face and just apologize, for anything and everything, because this wasn't Paris, this unnerved him.
As if she sensed his presence she chose that moment, to turn her head, their eyes locking for the briefest of moments, but still long enough from some kind of understanding to pass between the two. Paris allowed her legs to slide out from under her, so they were dangling off the front of the car, before sliding off of the vehicle completely and straightening herself out. "Sorry, I shouldn't have walked off."
If he had been expecting her to say something that clearly hadn't been it, because her words caught him off guard and it took him a moment to respond. "That's okay, just have a throbbing pain in my side as a result of looking for you," he teased, trying to lighten the heavy air that surrounded them. When she looked at him questioningly he continued, "I looked around the park for you, and actually thought I found you, instead I got smacked with a woman's purse," he accentuated the point, by lifting his shirt, to reveal a black-and-blue forming just above his jeans.
"You didn't have to go looking for me."
"I see that now, since you were waiting at the car the whole time," he returned with a smile. He was still waiting for her to lash out, to do something other than just stand there almost passively.
"I'm sorry I walked off," she said again, this time meeting his eye as she said it.
"I know, you said that already, and I'm sorry-"
"You have nothing to be sorry about," she cut him off. "It was childish of me, we decided to be friends, what you do with Rory is none of my business, and I shouldn't have reacted the way I did." The time alone had given her some time to think and she realized how pathetic she seemed, scowling, feeling hurt, running off, she had no claim on Tristan DuGrey, and it shouldn't matter to her who he dated or didn't date, so she decided she would apologize and put the whole thing behind them. Of course that didn't stop it from bothering her, from hurting her but she was Paris Gellar and she could handle anything, even rejection.