Author's Note: This is just a scene that I've been playing around with. I mainly wrote it for pure fluff and your enjoyment. Although, it's very possible that you might see this show up in one of my fan fictions in the future, hence the cliffhanger ending. I don't usually write fluffy fics, so I guess you could call this an experiment. I wanted to get this out there for some feedback/reviews to see what you all thought. So let me know! On to the story, and thanks for reading!

Rory tossed and turned in the bed, the stiff, white sheets sticking like glue to her clammy skin. She rolled over on her side and glared at the standard, bland, hotel room phone/clock combination. Its red numbers flashed back at her mechanically, seemingly stuck in an unmovable position.

1:02 A.M.

1:03 A.M.

1:05 A.M.

Mocking her as if it were thoroughly enjoying her predicament. Reminding her of the hours of precious sleep she was losing and would probably never gain back during the duration of this trip. Here it was the middle of the night, and she should have been dreaming the night away, not awake - restless in her thoughts. Thoughts that she shouldn't have been dwelling on. Thoughts that teased and taunted around heading in that one unavoidable direction before eventually, irreversibly settling there. Thoughts consumed by him.

With a groan of frustration, Rory threw back the covers, wondering for one fleeting moment if his sleeping pattern was also being severely disrupted. Oh, who was she kidding? Guys like Tristan DuGrey, self-confident and seeping with arrogance, didn't lose sleep over any girl. Especially one like her. And that made her annoyed - with herself and with him. He had no right to absorb her thoughts like this, but yet she knew that he wasn't the one to blame. She was the one who had begun to question everything involving him. She tried to tell herself that he had done nothing to earn this position of intrigue in her every day routine. But he had. Unknowingly. By just being there.

She sat up in bed, untangling her legs from the hampering covers. Sleep would definitely choose to be evasive tonight. She staggered through the dark room, pulling off her pajamas and slipping into her swimsuit, a modest one-piece. She closed her door silently behind her and crept towards the elevator. She winced when the dinging that signaled its arrival echoed harshly in the stillness that shrouded the hall, the closed doors of her classmates staring back at her. His closed door.

She stepped into the waiting elevator, letting it carry her down to the deserted pool area.

Rory pushed open the door, the steam automatically hitting her face, making strands of hair stick to her neck in the humidity. She wasn't at all surprised to see that she was the only one who decided to go for a swim in the middle of the night. Everyone else was cozily tucked away in their beds. That made her want to kick him, or at least lash out at him with a quip from her barbed tongue. But, once again, it really wasn't his fault she couldn't sleep. She was the one who had allowed him access to her thoughts and even to a place deep in her heart. A place she had learned to keep shielded from certain people. Especially someone like him. It gave him a certain hold over her. A hold that she had desperately tried to fight on that last day of school. A hold that he had quickly regained after spending just mere minutes with her.

She stepped over the cool, damp concrete, clutching her towel tightly in one hand. Guided only by the few dim lights on the wall that provided a welcome relief from the bright fluorescent lights of the bustling day time. The hotel's heated pool lay sprawled out in front of her, its interior lights casting a greenish, shimmering tint under the water. The glass walls surrounding the pool area revealed nothing of the dark twilight beyond, save a few stars winking back at her.

She dropped her towel on a chaise lounge, unconsciously sending a modest glance around her. But it was useless, of course. There was no one else sharing the silence with her. Rory stepped down into the pool, sighing in pleasure as the warmth of the water closed over her body. She began to stroke lightly through the pool before turning over to float on her back, her hair fanning out around her head. She could feel her tense muscles relaxing as the balmy water soothed her.

"Well, if it isn't Rory Gilmore."

The voice startled her, making her head sink below the water. She came to the surface, rubbing the water out of her eyes and sputtering at the all too chemical taste of the chlorine. Tristan was standing at the side of the pool, staring down at her calmly. He was wearing an Abercrombie T-shirt over dark blue swimming trunks, a towel casually draped over his broad shoulders. The ever-present teasing smirk a staple to his wardrobe.

"What are you doing here?" She immediately berated herself for the obvious foolishness of her question.

"The same reason as you probably. I couldn't sleep." His mischievous blue eyes never leaving hers, Tristan reached up and slowly tugged off his shirt. Revealing a sun-kissed expanse of his washboard abdominal muscles, the deep blue of his trunks accentuating his bronzed skin. When he turned to place his towel on a chair, she was treated to a view of his bare back, the familiar puka shell choker the only accessory. He brought his arms up and stretched lightly, the muscles in his shoulders tightening. Proving that he did know how to take care of his physique. She glanced down quickly, her hands fluttering on the surface of the water, positive that she was blushing. When she met his eyes once again, he winked at her, knowing exactly what he was doing and enjoying every minute of it.

Rory watched him step into the pool, knowing she should leave. Head up to her room where sleep would continue to elude her. For when she closed her eyes, his image would still be permanently branded there. It was as if the water had suddenly frozen around her, trapping her in its confines. She couldn't move. One thought she refused to entertain was that maybe she didn't want to.

Tristan leisurely splashed water on the front of his body, growing accustomed to the temperature. The liquid drizzled over the finely sculpted muscles of his chest and tapered down to gather in the waistband of his trunks. His gaze slowly swept up to capture hers once again, a self-confident smile forming on his lips.

Rory's hands were growing numb where she had been clutching them tightly in front of her. In a flash of splashing movements, she awkwardly waded over to the side of the pool and prepared to climb out. But in an instant, he was behind her. She turned to face him, looking everywhere but into the sapphire pools of his eyes. Eyes that she didn't trust herself not to fall into. He placed his hands on the concrete on either side of her, blocking her in. Bending his head closer to hers, he blew feather lightly in her ear, tickling her hair with his warm breath. "You know, I think I could have my way with you right here if I wanted." His voice was deep, rich with huskiness as he seemed to devour her with his eyes.

And that cocky smirk. How she wanted to wipe it off his face, though not with a sharp retort. But with her lips. She blinked in shock at that revelation, frightening and confusing. She wasn't supposed to be feeling this way. Especially towards him. "No… no. You couldn't." Her normally witty mind failed her now, helpless under his piercing stare.

Tristan reached down underwater and found her hand, linking his fingers through hers. He could feel her shaking at his touch. "Then why are you trembling?" His thumb caressed her palm in tantalizing circles. "It's incredibly sexy to know that I have this affect on you." The words left his lips with a chuckle as his face drifted ever closer to hers. He was amused, and that infuriated her.

Rory ducked underwater, swimming under his outstretched arm. She felt him gently grab onto her foot, holding her in place, while his other hand moved up her thigh before coming to rest as it spanned her stomach. Her bewildered blue orbs stared up at him, letting him see that he had made her question things - something Rory Gilmore didn't enjoy. That thrilled him, but it also brought with it an aura of worry. It was the fear of moving too fast, too soon with her. But it was like being faced with that one thing you've always wanted but could never have. That's what she was to him. Yet, more than that. So much more. It was too tempting. He had long ago stopped ignoring his feelings regarding her. Now he was tired of fighting. Tired of resisting the pull she had over him. He was ready to give in. To her. If only she would let him.

He failed to see her hand rear back, sending a small wave of water splashing in his face. He jerked back, wiping the water from his eyes and flicking his head to the side, ridding it of the excess water that showered over it. He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stick up in wet, tousled spikes. The water droplets dripped over his chiseled cheekbones, settling on his full lips, making them glisten in the dim light. He didn't miss the giggle and smile she tried uselessly to hide. So, she wanted to play that game. It was one he knew well, but it was different with her. He participated in this game because he wanted to. Not because Chilton's pecking order demanded it or expected it from him. No. He had changed his rules of playing the game for her. Always changing. Only for her. He reveled in the way she bit her lip as she tried to anticipate his next move.

"There's something very sensual about water, don't you think?" He practically growled that observation, overcome with the emotions she never failed to initiate in him. His question went unanswered as his eyes burned into hers with a smoldering heat. He cupped some water into his hand, letting it trickle over her neck and down her throat. He slowly moved his lips down to the area above her collarbone, his mouth tasting her skin as if it were a delicate dessert meant to be savored with every bite. Her heart ricocheted in her chest, feeling as if it were climbing up her throat.

Tristan raised his head back up to look at Rory, his eyes instinctively finding hers. His arm twined around her back, pulling her closer to him. Skin against skin. Her hand passed in front of her, brushing up against the tight contours of his stomach. Her flushed cheeks gave away her inner thoughts on the matter. What he was about to ask her would eventually make its presence known in many of her dreams. "The question is Rory, do you want me as much as I want you right now?" The huskiness had never left, his tone completely oozing with it. For her. Because of her.

She couldn't speak. She didn't need to. She knew that one look in her eyes would betray her. Tristan tugged up on her chin in order to give him a full view of her eyes. She could do nothing but stare at him. He closed his eyes briefly, lashes fluttering against his face as water beaded in their thickness. His lips were parted invitingly, beckoning to her. When he opened his eyes once again, she could see something new there. Something that he had grown tired of repressing. A need for her that was now uninhibited. And at that moment, Rory was aware that the only thing separating them was the thin, soaked material of their swimsuits.

Tristan pulled her even closer to him, focusing his attention on her mouth. His lips brushed hers as his tongue playfully, yet all too seductively, grazed her bottom lip. Rory moved back slightly, her eyes locked on his. Seeing the heat and desire for her burning in their depths. And she had a sudden fear of drowning, but not in the pool. It was a sensation of being pulled into the mysterious swirls of his eyes, drowning in them. But as she felt his fingers running over the strap of her swimsuit, she knew that he would be there to catch her. If only she could let herself fall.

Rory's hand reached up, her fingers running through the damp, blonde tendrils at the nape of Tristan's neck. She gently pulled his head down closer to hers, and she was met with no resistance from him. He was letting himself go - giving into her. Seeing what she would do. Seeing where she would go with the opportunity he had gladly, willingly given to her.

When their lips were centimeters away from each other, his mouth twitched up in that familiar smirk. But it was different, because it was an expression reserved only for her. A symbol of adoration. His breath mingled with hers. Each breath for rapid breath. Her fingers moved up to lightly touch his lips, exploring the softness of his skin. Craving him against her. Her own lips ached to feel his kiss. But she was satisfied, for she knew in less than a second he would give it to her. He was tired of waiting. She could feel it in his accelerated heart beat as his head lowered to breach the final agonizing millimeters separating them…