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She has to corner him at his locker because Paris moved the Romeo and Juliet rehearsal to Stars Hollow and Rory needs to be sure he’s not going to tell Dean about the kiss.
The kiss at the party that meant absolutely, positively nothing.
She tells him that Dean’s coming to rehearsal while he takes a couple of books out. “I want you to promise that you won’t tell him about what happened,” she says.
“What happened?” He asks, feigning confusion.
“At the party?”
“What party?” For a moment, she’d actually believed he’d forgotten.
“Tristan! At Madeline’s party?”
He scratches his head.
“We kissed!” she exclaims hastily.
“That was you?” He smirks.
Rory sighs and turns away. “Forget it.” She doesn’t know why she even bothered to try.
He pauses a moment, then follows her with long, smooth strides. “You don’t want me to tell Dean we kissed,” He repeats.
She stops and looks at him. “By George, I think he got it,” She remarks. He teases her some more, throws a little one-sided flirting her way, until Rory shuts him down.
“Look. Things are really good between me and Dean right now, and I don’t want anything to mess that up, especially not something that meant nothing at all to me and I wish has never happened in the first place!” Her chest is nearly heaving, and she realizes her tone may have been a bit harsh.
Tristan’s smirk falls. He tries to hide it, but Rory sees. She doesn’t get it, but she’s never really gotten Tristan. He’s a player, he goes through girls like candy, but for some reason, he’s acting so strange over a little kiss. It’s not that he likes her, like, actually has feelings for her, because then why would he have teased her so mercilessly all through last year?
“So, things are going good for you two, huh?” He asks, and if Rory didn’t know better, she’d say he almost sounded defeated.
“Yeah,” She replies softly. “They are,”
“Good. That’s good,” He replies, tone clipped.
He walks back to his locker, and now she’s the one following him. He puts the books he just took out back and then slams the door.
“You just took those out,” Rory points out.
“I changed my mind.” He snaps.
Rory doesn’t know why, but she feels bad for him. “Are you alright?” she asks earnestly.
“Yeah,” He sighs. “I think somehow I’ll recover from the romance between you and the Beav,” She doesn’t find his sarcasm amusing.
“A lotta stuff’s been going on lately, huh?”
He just looks at her.
...
When his dad told him that his punishment was military school in North Carolina, his first thought was jesus christ. His second thought was Rory.
His father wanted to take him straight to the airport. “Pack your things,” he’d said.
But Tristan had begged. Begged and pleaded and argued. And in the end, on the premise of ‘it’s a school project’, his father let him say goodbye.
He flies out the car door the second they pull up, barely registering the “Five minutes!” that his father calls out after him.
He straightens out his jacket before he steps in. It takes too long to find her, and when he does, she’s with Paris.
“Where have you been? You have to get dressed. We’re on in ten minutes!” Paris exclaims as soon as he sees her.
“Can’t. My dad had me pulled out of school, he-” Paris walks away before he can finish, but Rory’s still staring at him, and that’s who matters. That’s who he’s here for.
“What do you mean he had you pulled out of school? What for?” She asks, and he hates the part of him that notices she cares.
Because she doesn’t. At least not the way he wants her to.
“Nothing,” he says. He doesn’t want to tell her. It’s stupid.
“Tell me, Tristan, come on!”
So he tells her.
“Stupid,” She comments.
“Yes.” he replies.
“Why would you do this?”
He doesn’t know. He doesn’t know why he smokes either, or why he hangs out with Duncan and Bowman now, or why he’s dated anyone other than her. To fill the void, maybe? To distract him from the ache? From his life?
“I don’t know, I guess I can ponder over it at military school,” he says, finally dropping the bomb.
“Military school?” She repeats. He explains.
“I don’t know what to say,” Her lips are formed into a pout, her eyebrows furrowed.
“Well, I imagine you’re overwhelmed with the relief that I’ll be gone,”
She blinks. “I’m so sorry.”
He shrugs. “Well, I’m a big boy. I can handle it.”
Let me kiss you goodbye, his subconscious begs — one last time.
“There’s nothing you can-”
His father cuts her off. “Tristan! Come on,” He’s standing at the end of the hall, waiting.
Tristan looks back at her. At those big blue eyes. He glances at Dean, who’s watching from a distance.
“I’d kiss you goodbye but, uh, your boyfriend’s watching,” he says, looking at Dean again. Rory doesn’t look at him, she just stares at Tristan, like if she blinks, he’ll disappear. Like she’s memorizing his every feature.
“Take care of yourself,” he says. Then, he adds, “ Mary,”
It’s been months since he’s called her that, since before their first kiss at the party.
It makes her smile, and that makes him smile.