Disclaimer: I don't own anything, seriously.

A/N: Hmm… where to begin? Well, let me just start off by saying that I'm so sorry for not updating in more than a year, I've been too busy with my junior year and all the exams (I'm proud to say that I am done with my regents and passed every one of them.) Now that my senior year is coming soon plus the bundle of free periods I think maybe I might be able to squeeze a couple of chapters in before the year ends. To be honest, when I started this story I wasn't sure there would be a direction until I finally thought of one, so I'm pretty excited to execute that storyline on here.

Enjoy, and as usual, leave a comment. :)

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Chapter 6

There must have been some sort of angel looking out for Rory this past week at Chilton. Not only had she not come in late for class, but it seems that she's handling school and work like a pro. Which included a silent victory from answering a question quicker than the never-late-always-on-beat Paris Gellar and strangely James, her boss, didn't scold her for the jar of peach she accidently knocked over while she was ironically mopping up an already spilled jar. Yep, life was definitely good.

Now if only that angel would stick with her throughout the Friday night dinner with her grandparents. Don't get her wrong, it's not her grandparents that she's worried about; its how her mom will be behaving that's got her nervous. For a grown thirty-two year old, Lorelai Gilmore hasn't found the maturity or dining etiquettes Emily Gilmore expects.

"Alright, here it comes." Lorelai lifted her finger to the shiny brass door bell, adding the occasional dun, dun, dun for dramatic effect.

Rory playfully rolled her eyes at her mother.

The maid opened the door, followed by her grandma a few seconds later.

"Girls, just on time, come on in, Richard's at the living room. Dorota get their coats." Emily greeted them.

"Yes ma'am." The maid mumbled softly and collected the coats.

When they entered the lavishly decorated room, her grandfather, who was seated at a wooden chair, folded the newspaper and straightened up his posture. He gave a smile in which his broad moustache spread against his face. As his daughter and granddaughter approached him he gave them a slight hug.

"Lorelai. Rory. Nice of you to join us tonight." He said.

Another maid came into the room and softly announced that dinner was ready. Emily nodded and gave a wave to tell the maid that they'll be in the dining room in a few minutes.

"Well, I hope you two like veal." Emily chapped her hands together.

Lorelai leaned over to Rory and sarcastically whispered, "What's better than eating a baby cow?"

Rory lightly shushed her when her grandma suddenly turned around.

"What was that, Lorelai?" Emily questioned.

"Nothing mom." Lorelai sweetly smiled at the petite auburn-haired woman in front of her. Her smiled was a little too sweet.

"So Rory, how are things going on at Chilton?" Her grandfather asked, engaging her in a conversation as they took their seats.

"Um, so far, everything has been going well. The classes are tough as I expected them to be and I quite like that it's challenging." She answered.

Two maids came out holding a plate on each hand. Temporarily distracted, Rory turned her focus back on her grandfather who looked as if he was going to ask another question.

"Say, is one of your teachers Alfred Remy?" Richard questioned.

At the name of her biology teacher, Rory's interest perked up. "Yea, I have him for science. You know him, grandpa?"

"Remy and I, we go way back. Don't let his uptightness fool you, when we were in our teenage years we use to pull pranks on the substitutes." He proudly remarks as he slices the meat on his platter.

"And I thought I was the only rebellious Gilmore of the family." Lorelai poked right in on the discussion.

"Now, now…I know that it's Rory's birthday next week," Her grandmother announced, "how about we throw you a party here. How does it sound?" Her manicured elegantly curled around the stem of her champagne flute, lifting it to her lips.

Rory froze; knowing her grandmother it would mean that everything she plans for the party would be more proper and debutante/society like. But she couldn't afford to disappoint her grandmother, so she did the one thing she had to do.

She accepted.

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When she arrived at school early in the morning on the start of the week, she felt a slightly eerie presence around her. Her classmates were glancing at her as she walked down the hallway to her beige locker. Insecurely, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears and continued to walk with her eyes focused on the ground. She felt murmurs all around her and whispers that was so loud that it seems that people were intentionally letting other people know what they were talking about.

It wasn't until she was standing right in front of her locker that she heard what the girls behind her were chatting about.

"That's her. My parents are making me attend her party so …"

Rory tuned out the noise and instead centered her mind on her combination lock. Opening the door, she took out some of the book from her bag and replaced them with some books from her locker. As she shut the door, she jumped in shock when she noticed that someone was beside her.

"Scared you?" A smooth, velvety voice said. Tristan leant against the locker next to hers, his posture relaxed yet composed.

Rory shook her head, her eyes darting left and right, still annoyed at the stares her classmates gave her.

"Have I grown another head or something? Why is everyone staring at me?" She asked him, her forehead scrunched up in confusion.

"It might have something to do with this." he waved a white invitation in the air. In his most formal voice, he read, "You are cordially invited to the sixteenth birthday of Miss Lorelai Leigh Gilmore on Friday, October 8th."

"Wait! Hold up, give me that!" She grabbed the invitation from his hand and scanned the small card. There it was in fine print, her full name, her birthday, and not so surprisingly, her grandparent's address.

Tristan observed her shocked face, the way she bit her lips and how her ears turned red, he knew that she had no idea what was happening. "Are you okay?" He asked her and laid one hand on her shoulder, gently shaking her when she didn't answer him.

She snapped out of her trance and faced him, "How many people got these?"

He shrugged, "Everyone in our grade probably."

Rory lightly nodded, refusing to look up at him. "I'll see you later."

Tristan stared after her form as she made her way through the crowded hallways. Though it was packed, people seemed to move away from her. He narrowed his eyes at the behaviors of his peers.

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The day had not gone well.

Her mind was too bombarded with frustration to focus on The Great Depression today. Ms. Caldecott had taken notice of her lack of attention and decided to embarrass her in front of the class by calling her to answer a question. Having no idea what the history teacher asked, Rory just sat there in silence hoping she would move on to another student.

Paris, of course, took the opportunity and raised her hand high and gave the answer, which was followed by a snigger when the teacher wrote notes on the chalkboard.

By the time class ended, Paris came by her desk and rested her palms on the surface. The petite blond lowered herself and sneered at the brunette, "Let me just be honest Gilmore, you don't belong here and you definitely don't have what it takes to be in The Franklin."

"Why don't you just back off Paris!" Another voice spoke up. She recognized it to be Tristan's.

She lifted her hand to stop him from making an argument over her, if she could ask for one thing it would be to end the spotlight on her; she hated the attention. "It's okay Tristan; I can take it from here."

She quickly packed her bags and speed-walked to her locker. She wanted to go home but she had a shift at Joslers tonight.

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It took an uneventful day at school to make her appreciate the employee room at Joslers. The medium sized space featured a non-stop blinking fluorescent light tube, a ratty old couch from James's house, a crappy vending machine that on occasions only takes but never gives, and a stench that reeks of bleach. Not the very idea of comfy but at least it brought peace-

The door slammed opened and in came a very energetic Jay, "Hey Ror, you'll never guess what I got."

If only for a little while.

The white card in hand made her groan in irritation. "Oh don't tell me she delivered it to my workplace too."

The boy in front of her raised an eyebrow, "What are you talking about?"

"My grandma sent you an invitation for this Friday right?" She pointed to the card in his hand.

"No," He stretched out the vowel, "This is a card for Jo Lynn, and I was planning on writing her a poem. But what's this suppose to do with your grandma?"

She waved her hand, "Never mind, I just thought it was something else." She got up from the couch, "I have to get back to work now, and I'll see you out there."

"Oh!" He suddenly said, as if remembering something, "There's someone asking for you outside. Tall. Blond."

"Okay, thanks."

She walked outside and found Tristan, by the frozen food aisle, still clad in his uniform. He seemed to be very fascinated with a box of frozen waffles. As she got closer to him, she teasingly asked, "Anything I can help you with?"

"No, noth-" He started to say until he turned his head and his eyes landed on her blue ones. "Hey, I guess that Ray guy did find you."

She let out a small laugh, "It's Jay, and are you going to purchase that because if James sees you holding that for more than five minutes and then putting it back, he'll be sure to give you a piece of his mind."

He mockingly clenched his teeth, "Then I guess I better put this back. Did you know that there are approximately 400 new frozen food products produced every year?"

Amused, she played along, "No I didn't. But I don't think you came all the way out just to talk to me about frozen meals."

Tristan lifted his hands up into an "I surrender" mode and said, "Alright, alright, red-handed." He placed his arms down, "I came to see how you were doing, you're extremely smart but you're a horrible liar. You weren't fine today."

"No I wasn't." She agreed with him. "Thanks for today, you know, the thing with Paris."

"She's wrong you know, you have everything it takes to excel in The Franklin if not even better." He encouraged.

Their light moment was interrupted by a ring tone, presumably his.

He retrieved the silver mobile from his pant pocket and flips it open, "Hello…yea I be back soon…alright bye." He snapped it shut and turned to her. "Sorry, but I have to go now."

"There's nothing to be sorry for." She smiled at him. "I should get back to stocking the tissue boxes. Well, I see you tomorrow." She turned around and walked down the aisle, she halted in her steps when he called her.

"Yea?" She raised her voice; the distance between their bodies was larger.

"I also came to give you a personal Répondez s'il vous plait." He spoke; his voice huskily spoke out the four French words to her.

It took her about a few seconds to know what he was talking about, when she did, she replied, "You don't have to come if you don't want to."

In the same husky tone he said, "But I do."