Favors part 5.
Diddlee (diddleesquat@excite.com)
Author’s Note: I’ve upgraded the rating to PG 13 due to language and
sexual scenarios. I hope you weren’t expecting much with this part seeing
as you’ve been waiting forever. I’m still struggling with where to take it
and have started adapting other parts of fics to fit this story. Please
read and I would appreciate any and all feedback.
_______________________________________________________________________
Rory mindlessly flipped through the pages of her history book, seeing the
words but not registering their meanings. She’d been trying to study for
the last few hours, but nothing seemed to be sinking in. The words on the
pages jumbled together causing a mess of information to brand itself on her
brain. With finals approaching, she knew she should be putting more effort
into this than she could muster. But somehow, today, she just didn’t have
the strength. She traced her finger along a sentence, watching the black
type disappear and then reappear on the other side of her finger. She
reversed her motion, seeing that indeed, the same happened when she went the
other way. With an exaggerated sigh, she slammed her book shut and threw it
next to her on the couch.
Leaning forward, she placed her head in her hands, her hair cascading over
her arms and enclosing her face. She rested her elbows on her knees, her
palms supporting her sagging head by the temples. Just for a second, she
let her mind wander back to the events of the day, a day that in many
respects she would like to forget entirely. She cringed when she remembered
how it ended, still stinging from her decision. She felt her cheeks begin
to moisten with tears that were so common tonight, as her fingers brushed
lightly over her lips.
She heard the doorknob rattle and knew her mother must be home. Quickly
swiping the tears with one hand, she reached for her history book with the
other, opening to a random page in the middle. She situated herself on the
end of the couch, leaning back against the armrest for support. Fastening
her fingers around her yellow highlighter, she bit the end of it, trying
gallantly to exude an air of studying. She shook her head lightly letting
her hair form a curtain around her tear stained face.
She heard her mother enter the room, dropping her briefcase and keys by the
door. She was somewhat surprised to hear her whistling. Her mother never
whistled. She figured she must be in a good mood from her date with Max,
and tried to hide her envy at her mother’s joy.
Lorelai practically skipped through the entryway, her whistling echoing
through the room. She listened for a second to the ticking of the clock,
synchronizing her tune to it’s rhythm. She walked around the end of the
couch, placing herself directly behind her studious daughter. Without
stopping her whistling, she gently reached up, placing a solitary finger
under the collar of Rory’s shirt and pulling it away from her neck. Rory
squirmed, flicking her hand over her shoulder to brush Lorelai’s away. She
paused mid tune, then immediately resumed her happy song. Not to be turned
away, she waited another second, and again tugged at the collar of her
daughter’s shirt.
“What are you doing?”, Rory practically growled as she again swatted
Lorelai’s hand away.
“Well someone’s in a cheery mood tonight.” She continued to scrutinize
Rory’s neck.
Rory continued to swat away her hands, picking herself up off of the couch
and moving to the opposite end. “What’s your problem?”
Lorelai was slightly taken aback by her daughter’s tone. Shrugging it off
to pre-finals jitters, she tried to maintain her humorous self. “I was
simply looking for love bites.” She flopped on the edge of the sofa
recently vacated by Rory.
“Well you’re not going to find any.” Rory tried to appear immersed in her
history book.
“From what I hear about that kiss today, I should be thanking my lucky stars
I’m not a grandmother already.”
Rory remained riveted to her lessons..
“So....,” Lorelai began, waiting for her to continue. After a few seconds
of silence, she realized she was going to have to drag it out of her.
“What’s it like to be dating Mr. Popularity? Mr. Suave? Mr. I can walk
into a room and all girls fall at my feet.”
Rory brushed her hair off of her forehead. “I’m not dating Tristan.” She
tried to hide the hurt in her voice, concealing it with disdain for her
mother’s topic of conversation.
Lorelai shifted on the couch, stretching her legs in front of her. She used
her feet to slightly nudge Rory‘s side, watching as she tried to ignore her
pestering. “O.K., so I know you haven’t actually gone on a date yet. So
what’s it called now? Going out? Going steady? Mutual infatuation?”
“None of the above.” Her frustration was getting the best of her. She
usually avoided this tone with her mother, but somehow today, she didn‘t
have the strength to conceal her irritability.
“Tristan and I are nothing but friends, as I’ve told you before. And now
I’m not even sure we’re that.” The last part was mumbled slightly under her
breath.
Lorelai crossed her arms over her stomach and leaned back against the
armrest. “If you two are not an item, do you mind telling me why that boy
left here with half my daughter’s saliva?”
Rory groaned and dropped her book on the couch. She pushed herself up from
her seated position, and crossed the entry way to the kitchen. She grabbed
her favorite mug from the cabinet and approached the steaming coffee pot.
The coffee had been on most of the afternoon, and she poured the little that
had not evaporated into her mug. With her back to the living room, she
didn’t see her mother enter the room with a perplexed look on her face.
Lorelai tried to interject a bit of levity into the ever growing tenseness
of the conversation. “Please tell me you’re not prostituting yourself out
for a bit of cash on the side. I know you’d do anything for me not to have
to spend every Friday night at my parents, but I will not let you sell
yourself to some rich Chilton kid. Though I would have to commend your
creativity in part-time employment.”
Seeing that her humor was falling on deaf ears, she reverted back to her
interrogation. “So what is it with you two?”
“God, Mom. Would you just drop it?” She pushed herself off the counter,
heading in a straight path for her bedroom. She was stopped in her tracks
when her mother reached out and grabbed hold of her arm. Still with her
back to her mother, she felt Lorelai’s grip holding fast.
“What the hell is your problem?” She pulled on Rory’s arm in an attempt to
get her to face her.
Rory sighed and turned towards her. She tucked the strands of her hair
behind her ears, and raised her head to look her mother directly in the
eyes.
For the first time, Lorelai had an unobstructed view of Rory’s face. She
was not prepared for what she saw. Her eyes were red and poofy and her
cheeks were still damp from the hours of crying. Lorelai took a step
backward, releasing her hold on Rory’s arm.
Lorelai raised her hand laying it gently on Rory’s cheek. “You’ve been
crying,” she whispered softly.
“No shit Sherlock.” Her voice was mixed with a little defiance, and a lot
of hurt.
In the back of her mind, she couldn’t believe she was saying that out loud.
She never cursed, especially around her mother. And that statement made it
twice today. She wasn’t certain what had gotten into her, and she felt a
twinge of guilt to take it back.
But she was fed up.
She was tired of playing the role of the good little girl. The perfect
daughter, who made the perfect grades, and was always courteous to everyone
around her. No one ever expected her to act like a normal teenager. For
once in her life, she wanted to scrap it all and start over.
The two Gilmores stood for a second staring at each other over the few
meters that separated them. Though symbolically, the distance seemed like
miles.
Still not breaking their eye contact, Lorelai was the first to speak.
“O.K., who are you and what have you done with my daughter?”
Rory‘s shoulders sagged a bit and her next statement was a bit softer. “I’m
still your daughter, I’ve just had a really bad day.”
“Well that’s good, cause if this was a really good day, I’d say we need to
work a bit on your enthusiasm.”
Rory turned and headed into her bedroom.
“I take it you’re not in the mood to talk about it?” Lorelai slouched
against the doorframe as Rory walked around her room getting things ready
for bed.
“Not particularly.”
“Do you have any idea when you’ll be ready to talk about it?”
Rory paused in turning the covers down on her bed. “Never works for me.”
“What is it with this kid that has turned my normally chatty daughter into a
barely audible creature who manages to grunt out one or two words at the
most?” She switched off the light as Rory pulled herself into bed. She
turned and pulled the door shut behind her.
“Hey Mom.”
She turned and cracked the door enough to peek her head into the room.
“I love you,” Rory quietly stated.
Rory couldn’t see the slight smile on her face as she silently breathed a
sigh of relief. “I love you too, honey,” she returned, quietly pulling the
door closed.
The next few days were a blur as Rory went about her normal school routine.
Finals were a few short days away and she tried feverishly to keep her mind
on studying. That proved to be a more difficult task than expected as much
of her effort was devoted to avoiding Tristan.
Which shouldn’t have been a difficult feat considering the perfection with
which he was performing the very same task.
In the few classes they shared together, he managed to sit as far from her
as possible, not once casting a glance in her direction. He made an art out
of arriving to class seconds before the bell rang, and knew precisely when
to dart from his chair at the end of class.
Their avoidance dance didn’t go unnoticed by the biggest gossips in the
Chilton circle. And one in particular couldn’t help but stick her nose in.
“Are we having a bit of a lover’s spat?” Paris approached, opening her own
locker.
Rory continued exchanging books in her locker, hoping that the voice would
just go away.
When Rory didn’t respond, Paris turned to face her “Do you hear me talking
or has your blinding love taken over your hearing as well?”
“I hear you Paris. And what you’re saying sounds like English, but I‘m too
tired to translate the hostility you‘re interjecting.” She continued the
monotonous task of putting her books into her bag.
“Well, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.” Paris
turned to face her own locker and copied Rory’s movements. “So tell me.
Exactly which side of the bed does Tristan sleep on?”
Rory turned her head slightly, glaring at Paris’ profile. “For someone so
smart you really can be dense. There is nothing going on between Tristan
and I.”
Paris gave her a doubting look. “Don’t play dumb. It doesn’t suit you.”
Rory returned the stare. “Don’t act like you care. It doesn’t suit
you.”
Paris shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly. “I don’t care. If you
want to parade yourself around here as Tristan’s latest conquest, be my
guest. Who am I to stop true love?” She emphasized the last two words with
disgust.
Rory looked at her indignantly. “Do you even hear yourself?”
“I hear the echo, but I‘m too busy translating your lies to listen .”
Shutting her locker with a bit of force, Rory slung her bookbag over her
shoulder and turned to fully face her adversary. “I’m surprised you of all
people wouldn’t remember the first rule of journalism. A statement isn’t
fact until it is supported by two sources. So just go on believing whatever
you want to believe. It just proves how daft you really are.”
Paris shut her locker, squaring her shoulders to face her. With a haughty
tilt of her head, she proved her point. “I’ll do you one better. I have
three. One: the kiss at Madeline’s party.” She paused to let the shock
register. “I know you think I don’t know about that, but you’re forgetting
the first rule of adolescence. Nothing is ever a secret when more than one
party is involved. Two: the picture of the two of you from the wedding.
You can deny it all you want, but a picture is worth a thousand words. And
three: you spent the night together in a hotel. Information which you so
graciously provided to the entire school. 3 strikes, Gilmore’s out. Thanks
for playing.”
Paris was the first to walk away, leaving a speechless Rory standing in the
hallway. It was so unlike her not to be prepared for anything Paris could
say. She crossed her arms over her chest and lowered her head to stare at
the floor. She tried to process the gravity of what just happened. If
Paris knew about the kiss at the party, she was certain the rumors were
circulating at record speed.
She took a deep breath, and started down the hall.
She took a few steps, realizing that staring at the floor was a certain way
to run into something. She raised her gaze to the emptying hall in front
of her, her eyes landing on a solitary form a few yards in front of her.
She stopped suddenly in her tracks, staring at the tall boy as he shut his
locker and turned toward her.
He took a few steps, his gaze focused on the books in his hand. She stood
frozen in her tracks, her feet seemingly weighted to the floor. He
continued on his path, finally raising his eyes. Immediately they
registered two stunning blue eyes as his feet halted his progress.
Tristan took a couple of steps backward, widening the distance between them.
His eyes never left hers as he willed himself to look away.
She shifted on her weight on her feet, unsure of what to do. Her eyes bore
into his, gauging his reaction at that moment. She was somewhat
disappointed that she couldn’t ascertain his mood. He long ago perfected
the ability to hide his emotions, and the barrier was stronger now than
ever.
He watched her falter and her nervousness take over. She opened her mouth
to speak, and immediately closed it. Her actions drew his eyes to her
mouth, and his stomach twisted with regret. She repeated the action again,
trying to find the words to say. Before she had the chance, he turned on
his heel and walked away.
She watched his retreating form, a little upset at the abruptness of his
actions. She had thought about the first post-kiss interaction, but had
never considered the awkwardness of the moment to result in this. She knew
better than to expect him to return to his usual smirking self, but turning
his back on her was not a scenario she had in mind.
Adjusting the strap on her shoulder, she continued down the hall, thankful
that another day at Chilton was gone.
Tristan wandered through the store, occasionally stopping to flip through
the CDs. He picked one out and slipped on the headphones to get a feel for
the taste of the music. He listened for a couple of minutes, skimming the
first few seconds of each song. He slid the headphones off and hung them
over the bracket along the wall. Careful to put it back in the exact
alphabetical order, he didn’t notice the girl standing behind him.
“You just don’t get it do you?”
He whirled around, startled at the voice a few feet from him. “Excuse me?”
“Do you have any idea what you’ve gotten yourself into?” she firmly
questioned.
Tristan cocked his head slightly in puzzlement. “Do I know you?”
The girl’s confidence wavered slightly as she momentarily broke eye contact.
He could not see the nails digging into the palm of her hand to give her
strength for this conversation. Nor did he notice her follow him into the
store and hover behind him a few steps, mentally preparing herself to
approach him.
“No, but you should make a point to get to know me.” She was discouraged to
hear the shaking in her voice, certain that her nerves would take away from
point of this conversation. This was something she never dreamed she would
gain the audacity to do. Yet here she stood. Facing this boy of mysteries.
This boy who was undoubtedly the most attractive creature she had ever laid
eyes on. This boy who held such a grasp over Rory’s emotions. And she was
willing to bet he was as oblivious to that power as she had been to his
feelings.
Tristan’s confusion persisted. He looked at the strange girl in front of
him, trying to place her among the snooty kids of his parents’ friends. But
that didn’t fit. She didn’t appear haughty, and in fact, seemed a little
out of her league. He noticed her timidity, not at all characteristic of
someone accustomed to accosting him at the mall. She reminded him of
someone, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.
She waited for him to respond, and when he did nothing but look over her
cooly, she debated fleeing from the store before he found out who she was.
His very presence was making her a nervous wreck. But if things worked the
way she assumed they eventually would, she had a feeling she would be seeing
him regularly over the course of her friendship with Rory. And there was
no better time to get over her shyness than now.
“Lane Kim. Best friend to the object of your infatuation.” Her voice again
betrayed what little confidence remained. She watched his reaction for some
sign of acknowledgement, and barely caught the low, whispered utterance.
“Rory,” he sighed to himself. That’s who she reminded him of. The word was
spoken in no more than a whisper, and to the passerby, it was likely
unintelligible. But to the two of them, there was no denying what he had
said. He watched the girl in front of him with curiosity, and then turned
back to the row of CD’s.
“I didn’t realize Miss Ice Queen had a messenger service.” His arrogance
returned in an attempt to mask his true feelings. “So, what? Did she send
you to tell me that she never wants to see me again? Because she seems to
be doing a pretty good job of that herself. Or did she send you to inform
me of what a jerk I am and why I should be lucky to ever have been in her
presence?”
Lane was taken aback by his harsh tone. She remembered the Tristan Rory
used to complain about and had a good idea she was getting a glimpse of him
now. But he didn’t even compare with the Tristan Rory had fallen for. She
reminded herself that the sweet Tristan was hiding in there somewhere.
Though it was difficult to believe at the moment.
“She didn’t send me. She doesn’t even know I’m here.” She stared at his
back, expecting for him to turn around. When he didn’t, she realized what
she was about to do was probably best done to his back anyway.
“Oh, so the good Samaritan in you has taken it upon herself to defend her
best friend to the big bad bully?” He glanced over his shoulder at her, and
then back to the CD’s.
Lane glared at his back. “You don’t deserve her.”
Tristan stiffened at the statement, knowing fully that she was right. He
closed his eyes as her words stung. Choosing to drop the act, he uttered
his first cordial words. “I know.”
Lane could hear his voice soften and his shoulders slouch, resigning himself
to the truth.
“She’s not used to your way of life. She doesn’t hop from boyfriend to
boyfriend and she can’t run with the popular crowd.” She watched his back.
“She’s different. And you’re moving too fast.”
He slowly turned around. “She’d prefer if I didn’t move at all.” He
brushed by her to another rack of discs.
“That’s not true.”
He again glanced over his shoulder at her. “Please,” he mocked. “Rory
Gilmore would like nothing more than for me to just disappear.”
She pondered whether or not she should continue. If Rory knew what she was
doing, she would string her up and plot a fate worse than death. But
ultimately, this was for her own good. “She likes you.”
Tristan scoffed. “She has a funny way of showing it.”
“She does. She told me.”
Tristan turned around. “She actually said that she likes me?”
Lane looked at her feet for a moment. “Well... Not in so many words.” She
quickly tried to cover. “But she doesn’t have to. I’ve been her best
friend for 15 years Some things go without saying.”
He looked her in the eye. “I’ll believe it when I see the press release.”
“Do you know she talks about you all the time? At first she would tell me
about the asinine stunts that you pulled. But gradually, the stories began
to center around something witty you said, or the way you checked her out in
the hall.” She paused for her words to set in. “You should know that
before your kiss on her porch, she had only kissed one guy. And that guy
broke her heart.”
Tristan was a bit miffed.
“You’ve got to give her some time. She only broke up with Dean about a
month and a half ago. She’s not the type of person to run out kiss someone
else when she‘s still hurting.” She noticed his confused look.
Any credibility he had given her disappeared with her last few statements.
She didn’t know about the kiss at the party. If she knew Rory as well as
she claimed she did, she would have known something as vital as that. He
looked her directly in the eye. “Who put you up to this?”
Lane cast him a perplexed look. She noticed the change in his demeanor and
feared he was returning to his hostile ways. Looking her directly in the
eyes caught her off guard. She stammered a moment before she was able to
form a coherent sentence. “What do you mean?”
He put back the CDs he’d been rummaging through. “Was it Tom? He’s been
pissed at me ever since his girl dumped him.”
Lane continued to stare at him. “What are you talking about?”
He mistakenly assumed that her faltering was due to being caught at her
game. “Drop the act, I know what you’re doing.” His voice was sharp and
pointed. “One of my friends sent you here to trick me into thinking that
Rory had feelings for me, so they could watch as I make a fool of myself
pawning after her. It’s not going to happen because I’m not falling for
that.”
Lane crossed her arms over her stomach. “I... Um... I don’t know any of
your friends, and I certainly wouldn’t do anything to hurt Rory. She’s my
best friend.”
He took a few steps closer to her, watching her eyes dart from his in
anxiety. “You blew your cover. You’re not Rory’s best friend. Because if
you were, you would know that what you just said was a lie.” He began
walking out of the store.
Lane took a few steps and called after him. “I don’t know what she sees in
you.”
He stopped for a moment, slowly turning to face her. Deciding to play off
of her shyness, he walked back to where she was standing and leaned into
her. He waited as she did everything to avoid looking at him. When she
finally looked back at him he spoke. “If you are her best friend, then I’ve
got news for you. That kiss on her porch was not her first non-Dean kiss.”
He emphasized the name with his snide tone. “I suggest you check your
sources.”
And with that he walked out of the store, leaving a stunned Lane in his
wake.
Rory walked through the door to her home, softly shutting it behind her.
The squeaking of the hinges echoed through the unusually quiet home. She
leaned her back against the hard surface, bracing herself with it’s sturdy
structure. She’d practiced the movement many times, a tired gesture from
the pains of one long day. And she had had many while attending her school,
which she lovingly referred to as hell. Her bag slid off her shoulder,
landing with a thump on the ground. She released an exhausted sigh as her
shoulders slouched in defeat.
Making her way into the kitchen, she stumbled across the tiled floor,
collapsing in the first chair. With much drama, she leaned forward, placing
her forehead on the table. She slightly raised her head from the table,
only to return it with a little tap. She repeated the motion, and before
she knew it, her incessant head thumping was casting a hollow, rhythmic
noise through the kitchen.
She vaguely heard Lorelai enter the room, her head thumping drowning out the
footsteps on the linoleum.
“I’m sorry, I need a refresher course on head Morse code. Was that ‘I want
pizza for dinner‘, or ‘the neighbor’s cat is on fire’?”
Rory let out a little moan in response.
“Chilton really that bad today?” As she had done many times before, she
attempted to console her gloomy daughter.
“Worse.” The word came out a mixture of a sigh, a whine, and for dramatic
effect, a cry.
Lorelai paused, expecting Rory to at least lift her head from the table.
But she didn’t move. She stared at the brown tresses of her daughter’s
hair, splayed over her arms and across the table.
“I can’t believe they actually did it?” Her voice was muffled by the fact
that she was speaking into the wood of the table.
“Did what?”, Lorelai inquired. Sensing she was in for a long discussion,
she grabbed a half eaten package of skittles from the counter and took a
seat across from a distraught Rory.
Rory sighed, realizing any attempt to hide her frustration would be futile.
She raised her head slightly from the table, making sure what she was about
to say would be clear. She didn‘t think she could repeat the words a second
time. “They nominated me.”
Lorelai waited for her to continue. “For...”, she prodded.
“For the worst thing I can possibly think of.”
“They nominated you to be the person that wipes up all the sweat from the
gym floor? Those boys look cute in their skimpy uniforms, but boy can they
sweat.”
“Worse.” She was whining like a five year old.
“Ooh. Worse?” Lorelai perked up.
She raised an eyebrow at her mother‘s enthusiasm. “Much.”
“As much as I adore your one word answers, can you please elaborate on the
issue? We‘re paying good money for you to be educated and I expect to be
forced to dig out the thesaurus at least once during this conversation.”
Letting out one final sigh to relay the gravity of the moment, she confessed
her worst fear that was now reality. “They nominated me for Founder’s
Queen?”
“They did what?” Lorelai choked.
Rory flipped her hand in a girlie fashion. “That’s right. You’re looking
at one of the five lucky girls to be in the running for the coveted position
of Chilton bimbo.”
Lorelai stifled a giggle.
“Mom, if you even laugh at me, I’m going to hide the coffee pot.”
“Now that’s just cruel,” she gasped in response. “What exactly is Founder’s
Queen?”
She took a deep breath. “Every year the founders of the great institution
get together to pat themselves on the back and marvel at what an excellent
school they’ve formed. And as part of that tradition, five girls are
selected to be part of the Founder’s Court, with one being ultimately
crowned Queen to reign over the festivities.”
Rory’s head returned to the table.
“They only did it to spite me. I’ve gone to that school for six months, and
barely half the students even know my name. They just want to humiliate
me.”
“Maybe that’s not true. Maybe they saw your winning personality and
thought, she’s got queen written all over her.”
Rory glared at her.
“Well, just remove yourself from the running.” It was a viable option. In
theory.
“Can’t,“ she huffed. “Chilton students are not quitters.”
“Oh, right. I forgot you went to the only place on the planet with 100%
success rates at everything they do.” She had never tried very hard to
conceal her disdain for Rory’s school.
“And you want to know the worst part?” She couldn’t even believe it got
worse.
“They have a plaid formal gown for you to wear?”
Rory banged her head once on the table. “They make you attend all these
pre-crowning festivities with winners of years past. And they make you take
an escort.”
“I’m sure there are plenty of guys who would be willing to take you. I‘m
sure they‘d be honored to escort the prettiest girl in the whole school.”
Rory rolled her eyes at her mother‘s naivety. “He has to be an athlete.”
Lorelai contemplated for a moment. “You know athletes that go there,
right?”
She looked her mother in the eye. “I know one.”
“So ask him.” Rory glanced at her mother. She really did think it was that
simple.
“Can’t” She dropped her head on the table dramatically.
“Can’t never did anything.”
She took a deep breath, raising her head and staring off into space. She
was not looking at her mother as she said the next horrid thing. “It’s
Tristan”
Lorelai let the confession sink in before needling her further. “That‘s
right. He‘s lettered in tonsil hockey at least 2 years running.”
“Mom,“ Rory pleaded for her not to continue. She was not in the mood.
“And as I recall, my beautiful daughter played his all-star receiver a few
times.”
She glared at her mother. “It was twice. Two times, Mother. And I’m
beginning to regret that I ever told you about the first one.” She sighed.
“I haven’t spoken to him in about a month.”
Lorelai pondered for a moment. “Maybe he orchestrated this whole deal,
knowing you’d have to ask him, therefore, making certain you would have to
speak to him again. Just so that you and he could get back on speaking
terms. His peace offering.”
Rory rolled her eyes. “You give him too much credit.”
Lorelai stood and rested a comforting hand on her shoulder. “Aw. My baby’s
going to be royalty.”
Rory sighed. “I’m royal all right. Royally screwed.”
To be continued...