Rory hopped off the bus looking as though she'd just jogged two miles in
the rain.in reality, she just had a really crappy day in Hell (with a
nickname like that, who'd be surprised?). Desperate to regain that elusive
miracle called energy, she set off in the direction of Luke's. If she was
lucky, her mom would be there to make her feel better.maybe she'd even make
her fries talk or have the salt shaker sing.
"LUCY!" Lorelai whirled around in her seat as she heard the door to the
diner open and held out her arms.
"Lucy, be a dear and drag me home. I'm gonna fall off this chair if you
don't!"
"Sorry, Ricky. I had an infinitely more awful day than you." "I tried to say hello to a bunch of Bulgarians and wound up telling them to
stick their goat in my ear." "Tristan made 73 sexual innuendos in the four minutes he talked to me while
walking to third period." "Michel made me answer the phones all day cause it's his birthday, and four
people yelled at me for not having rooms available." "Paris assigned me a piece on the dangers of school uniform lint for the
paper."
"Lint?"
"Yeah."
"You win. Grab some coffee so we can blow this popsicle stand."
"Kay. Luke?" Rory leaned on the counter and held out a dollar when he
turned around.
"One cup of heart-stopping, caffeine-ridden brown sludge, please."
"Coming right up. You're actually paying this time?"
"Eh, thought I'd try something new." Rory shrugged as Luke turned to pour
the coffee.
"Here ya go, Ror. You look like you've been run over. Had a bad day?"
"The worst. Getting better." She gratefully accepted the cup and took a
sip.
"Ah, bliss."
"You and Lorelai are gonna die from that stuff one day."
"At least we'll die happy."
"Estatic." Lorelai piped up. "Luke, what's a spree?"
"Excuse me?"
"Like, shopping spree. What is a spree? Can you go on an eating spree? Or a movie spree? Or is it limited to shopping because of the alliteration? Of course, you've never heard of soap opera sprees and that has an s, too."
Luke stared blankly at her. Lorelai looked at him expectantly. "Or, you know, if you can't inflict some of your wisdom on me, how bout a
Danish?"
"Comin' right up."
"Thanks Lukey."
Rory plopped down on the stool next to her mom.
"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you torture him for
amusement."
"Not amusement, hon. Sheer, unadulterated pleasure."
"You're twisted."
"One of my more endearing qualities."
"So, movie night?"
"Ooo fun. Any theme?"
"How about we just randomly grab movies off the shelves?"
"Ok. Can we randomly grab 'Ocean's 11'? I'm in the mood for some Brad
Pitt."
"I suppose."
"Here's your Danish." Luke held the bag out to Lorelai who squealed and
snatched it.
"Thank you, Luke! Ok, we're off. Think about that spree thing, though."
"It will consume my every waking thought." Luke deadpanned.
"That's my boy. C'mon, babe." Lorelai and Rory looped arms and left the diner, both their days getting
increasingly better.
"Alright then, Mini Me, you call Luigi and I'll make a junk food run-"
"Oh no!"
"What? Is there no money under the rabbi? Sneaky little thing."
"Mom! It's Friday!"
"What?-NO!"
"YES!"
"NO!" "Mom, as entertaining as an interminable yes/no battle is, it won't make
Friday night dinner go away!"
"But.but.man! I was all ready for Brad Pitt and everything."
"Yes, yes I know. But right now we have to get ready."
"Psh, no. This is time for wallowing over the impending doom our poor Friday night is going to! I mean, this is just the not-so-yummy icing on the proverbial cake of weekdays! This is the time of sorrow and sadness and endless amounts of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey with extra primate fudge.
This-"
"-is time to get ready. Come on, you can borrow my blue sweater."
"The one with the fuzzy cuffs?"
"No, the one with the sparkles. I want the one with the fuzzy cuffs."
"I'm going to continue with the ranting unless I get the sweater with the
fuzzy cuffs."
"Fine. But I get your clogs."
"Fine."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
"Okay, we should get dressed."
"But this is fun!"
"Hush. We need to be there in two hours." "Two hours?? Are you crazy? We'll be dork early! And for a boring, prissy
dinner no less."
"Mom." Rory pointed exasperatedly towards the message machine. Lorelai
looked at it curiously, then back at Rory who waved her hand at it
impatiently once more. Lorelai leaned over and pushed the button.
"Hey there, stud-muffin. You've reached the home of Porn Star and Bambi
McBimbo. We're not here right now; you're best bet is that we're out gallivanting in the streets or spending loads of money or skimpy clothing and hair bleach. Either way-' 'Mom! Say something normal!' 'Fine. This is
Lorelai and that other Lorelai. Leave us a message, and you'll get a
cookie." BEEP.
"Ok, we need a new message. I can't believe you interrupted my Bambi
McBimbo speech.."
"Mom! Listen!"
"Fine." Lorelai turned back to the machine.
"For God's sake, Lorelai! You must change that message! It's terribly
vulgar. Now, on Friday I want you girls to come at four o'clock sharp instead of seven, because we're having some guests over, one of Richard's new business partners and his family. Anyway, dress nicely and we'll see
you then. Ciao."
Lorelai turned to Rory.
"You have GOT to be kidding me."
"Sorry, Bambi. Looks like an extra three hours of hellish chit chat for
us."
"We're doomed!" Lorelai groaned, and flopped down on the couch.
"Mom, we have got to get ready! We'll be late, and Grandma will have a
seizure and then all hell will break loose. So, c'mon." "Ugh, fine." Lorelai grumbled and got off the couch. "Hey, have you seen my
new suede boots?"
"Yeah, second silverware drawer to the right."
"Thanks babe."
---------
"That's it. I am so not ringing the doorbell."
"It'll all be over in a few seconds." "But then we have to go in there, and pretend to like these people, and my
suede boots are hurting my feet and these pants are riding up my butt."
"There's an image I needed before dinner." "Oh please. As if you aren't immune to too-much-information after living
with me for 17 years."
"True."
"Alright, now ring it so we can get this over with."
"How about we both ring it at the same time?"
"Works for me. On the count of 12."
"4."
"6."
"3."
"12!"
Both poked the doorbell, and stepped back.
"Well, no turning back now."
"We could run."
"In boots?"
"Never mind." Suddenly the door was opened by a maid who looked as if she'd sucked the
juice from a dozen lemons.
"Good evening. Can I help you?"
"Yep. I'm somebody, and this is nobody."
"And nobody's perfect." Rory piped up. The maid looked between the two of
them, then, without moving her eyes from them, called to the adjoining
room,
"Mrs. Gilmore! You're daughter and grand daughter are here."
"Let them in, Mildred." Emily hurried into the foyer, looking slightly
flustered. "Oh, Lorelai. Rory. Thank goodness you're here; I was beginning to wonder
whether you didn't get the message."
"Nope. We got it. So, who's the mystery guest? Is he hot?"
"Lorelai! He is married with a child!"
".I'm guessing he's not hot." "Oh, for God's sake.anyway, he and his wife are in the drawing room. Their
son is in the study. Rory, you can go talk to him. He's your age, I
believe. Goes to Chilton too, so you might know him."
"What's his name?"
"Tristan DuGrey. Anyway-" But Rory tuned the rest of that out. Tristan? In her grandparent's house?
In the study? Three hours with Tristan DuGrey.ain't life a kick in the
head.
Tristan was bored. He'd been sitting in the study for at least half an hour. His parents were busy chatting up the.Gordons or Gilberts or whoever
they were. He had learned early on how to completely ignore what these ridiculous society pricks were saying, and if you just smiled and nodded and kissed their wrinkly, ancient hands they'd be instantly charmed. Same with those idiot girls he went out with.a compliment, a leer, and a kiss on the neck and they were hooked. For a week or so, at least.then they would find him making out with their best friend or study partner or something
and they knew they were old news. Well, at least that's how it usually worked. Then Rory came into the picture. Gorgeous, clever, witty Rory with an endless supply of witty retorts to match his every leer and smirk. God, he loved her. She was like no one he'd ever met or seen or even heard of. She was absolutely perfect. And, she detested him. Loathed him. Most likely had a dartboard set up in her room with his picture on it. The only girl who'd ever stolen his heart (which, up until now, he hadn't even realized existed), and damn if she hadn't kept it. But what irritated him the most was that she didn't have a clue. She thought he teased her for the sake of teasing. He teased her with that old 3rd grade mentality that the one you love deserves to have their hair pulled and their stuff snatched up when they weren't looking. It infuriated him, the way he acted around her. It
was as if, when he got within three feet of her, he went into dumb-ass
mode. Just had to be a jerk about everything. Call her Mary, push her
buttons. Jesus, if only- But that was when his thought process pretty much ended. Because there she was. Mary. Standing in the doorway, looking at him nervously. Man, she was beautiful. And she looked especially gorgeous tonight; her hair was falling down her back in ringlets, a few pieces framing her face. Her cerulean eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks were pink from the cold. She was dressed in
a little white dress, coming to her knees and flaring out slightly with
long sleeves. Beautiful, he thought again, and smiled slightly at her.
"Hey there, Mary." Oh for the love of God. Can't I get her name right once? Tristan thought,
annoyed with himself. Five seconds in a room with her and he'd already completely screwed up the evening. But for some reason, unknown even to her, she wasn't as annoyed with the name. Maybe it was because he looked so innocent, just sitting in that big leather chair, bored and messing up his hair with his fidgeting hands for lack of anything better to do. Whatever
it was, it made her feel a little less irritated. "Evening, Satan. I see they let you out of the fiery pits of hell to attend
a dinner with the Gilmores."
"I'll forever be grateful to my little pitch-fork-wielding minions. I
couldn't very well miss out on a night of fun with my favorite little Mary." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and she almost laughed. What's
wrong with me? She thought nervously. Why do I think this is funny? She
decided to blame it on the cold. "If you decide to describe this agonizing evening as a 'night of fun' to any of your twisted little cronies, several key body parts will be missing
the following afternoon."
"So I guess I'll have to take the 'Magdalene' out of the picture."
"Just stick with Mary. No Magdalene. Or, if you're feeling especially
generous, the name Rory is also appreciated."
"Hmm."Tristan pretended to think while tapping his chin. ".nah. I prefer
Mary. Suits you."
"I don't know whether that's a compliment or an insult."
"Just use your eternal optimism."
"You called me a prude. What's optimistic about that?"
"I didn't call you a prude. I called you Mary."
"Same thing." "Nope. Paris is a prude. That girl in 5th period with the misshapen ear is
a prude. You're a Mary."
"Her ear isn't misshapen!"
"Oh please. It's pointy! She looks like a Keebler elf."
"You're blind."
"You're pretty."
"Again, I say, you're blind."
"Why? Cause I think you're pretty? Look around, Ror. Every guy at Chilton
thinks you're hot. But, since you're a Mary, they stick with the sluts.
Plus, you're already taken."
"Yes, I am taken. Dean would have a fit if you let any of those Chiltonites
think I was single."
"I mean taken by a Chiltonite."
".Who?"
"Me, obviously."
"Run that by me again."
"Well, you're pretty much pegged as mine. I like you, so guys are smart enough to know that it's only a matter of time before you fall into my arms
like you know you want to."
"Again, back up; I'm pegged? You.pegged me?"
"You realize I could twist those three words into a plethora of raunchy
sexual innuendos."
"Plethora. Looks like somebody's been using their word-of-the-day
calendar." "Caught me. Anyway, you've been standing in that doorway for the past ten
minutes. Why don't you, I dunno, come into the room?" "Oh.okay." Rory blushed; she hadn't realized she'd just been standing there while they went through their banter. She crossed the room and sat down on a chair opposite of him; she curled her legs under her, ducking the skirt
daintily around her legs. "Alright, now that we're through with the customary witty repartee, we need to return to the 'pegging' comment. First of all, you don't have me pegged, I already have a boyfriend. Secondly, you don't even really like me. You just have this strange little obsession with getting me to fall madly in
love with you. You're failing miserably at that, by the way."
"Give it time. So how is Boy Scout? Still helping little old ladies
crossing the street?"
"As opposed to pushing them into oncoming traffic, like a certain someone I
know?"
"You wound me, Mary."
"That's becoming awfully cliché."
"Alright.you're breakin' my heart, Mar."
"Hm.that has a definite ring to it."
"I agree. Alright, back to original topic; how is the ol' bean pole?"
"Dean is fine."
"You sound practically giddy when his name is mentioned."
"Better than going through two girls a week."
"You're breakin' my heart, Mar."
"I like how that just slides into the conversation. But when that gets too
cliché, you can switch back to the whole wound-me-Mary thing."
"Sounds like a plan. So why no googly-eyes or dreamy smiles when
Frankenstein is mentioned? All not sugary in Lollipop Land? Is a ride
broken in Disneyland? Field of daisies not as much fun to frolic in
anymore? Is-"
"That's enough of that."
"Sorry. Are my droll quips too much for you to keep up with?"
"Yes. That must be why I was trying to shut you up." "You know." Tristan leered and leaned towards her chair, ".there are better
ways to keep my mouth occupied."
"Oh, for the love of coffee beans, do you have a sexual insinuation for
every sentence that comes out of my mouth?" Tristan tapped his chin in mock contemplation. "Yes, I do believe all your
innocent words can be twisted to my own raunchy amusement."
"My words aren't the only thing that's twisted." Rory muttered, and glanced up to catch a flash of a genuine grin before that insufferable smirk was
back in place.
"So, three hours of banter? Think you're up for it?"
"I live in the same town as Kirk. I have long since been immune to annoyances." She grinned and curled up in the chair. This was going to be
quite a night.
"LUCY!" Lorelai whirled around in her seat as she heard the door to the
diner open and held out her arms.
"Lucy, be a dear and drag me home. I'm gonna fall off this chair if you
don't!"
"Sorry, Ricky. I had an infinitely more awful day than you." "I tried to say hello to a bunch of Bulgarians and wound up telling them to
stick their goat in my ear." "Tristan made 73 sexual innuendos in the four minutes he talked to me while
walking to third period." "Michel made me answer the phones all day cause it's his birthday, and four
people yelled at me for not having rooms available." "Paris assigned me a piece on the dangers of school uniform lint for the
paper."
"Lint?"
"Yeah."
"You win. Grab some coffee so we can blow this popsicle stand."
"Kay. Luke?" Rory leaned on the counter and held out a dollar when he
turned around.
"One cup of heart-stopping, caffeine-ridden brown sludge, please."
"Coming right up. You're actually paying this time?"
"Eh, thought I'd try something new." Rory shrugged as Luke turned to pour
the coffee.
"Here ya go, Ror. You look like you've been run over. Had a bad day?"
"The worst. Getting better." She gratefully accepted the cup and took a
sip.
"Ah, bliss."
"You and Lorelai are gonna die from that stuff one day."
"At least we'll die happy."
"Estatic." Lorelai piped up. "Luke, what's a spree?"
"Excuse me?"
"Like, shopping spree. What is a spree? Can you go on an eating spree? Or a movie spree? Or is it limited to shopping because of the alliteration? Of course, you've never heard of soap opera sprees and that has an s, too."
Luke stared blankly at her. Lorelai looked at him expectantly. "Or, you know, if you can't inflict some of your wisdom on me, how bout a
Danish?"
"Comin' right up."
"Thanks Lukey."
Rory plopped down on the stool next to her mom.
"You know, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you torture him for
amusement."
"Not amusement, hon. Sheer, unadulterated pleasure."
"You're twisted."
"One of my more endearing qualities."
"So, movie night?"
"Ooo fun. Any theme?"
"How about we just randomly grab movies off the shelves?"
"Ok. Can we randomly grab 'Ocean's 11'? I'm in the mood for some Brad
Pitt."
"I suppose."
"Here's your Danish." Luke held the bag out to Lorelai who squealed and
snatched it.
"Thank you, Luke! Ok, we're off. Think about that spree thing, though."
"It will consume my every waking thought." Luke deadpanned.
"That's my boy. C'mon, babe." Lorelai and Rory looped arms and left the diner, both their days getting
increasingly better.
"Alright then, Mini Me, you call Luigi and I'll make a junk food run-"
"Oh no!"
"What? Is there no money under the rabbi? Sneaky little thing."
"Mom! It's Friday!"
"What?-NO!"
"YES!"
"NO!" "Mom, as entertaining as an interminable yes/no battle is, it won't make
Friday night dinner go away!"
"But.but.man! I was all ready for Brad Pitt and everything."
"Yes, yes I know. But right now we have to get ready."
"Psh, no. This is time for wallowing over the impending doom our poor Friday night is going to! I mean, this is just the not-so-yummy icing on the proverbial cake of weekdays! This is the time of sorrow and sadness and endless amounts of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey with extra primate fudge.
This-"
"-is time to get ready. Come on, you can borrow my blue sweater."
"The one with the fuzzy cuffs?"
"No, the one with the sparkles. I want the one with the fuzzy cuffs."
"I'm going to continue with the ranting unless I get the sweater with the
fuzzy cuffs."
"Fine. But I get your clogs."
"Fine."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
"Okay, we should get dressed."
"But this is fun!"
"Hush. We need to be there in two hours." "Two hours?? Are you crazy? We'll be dork early! And for a boring, prissy
dinner no less."
"Mom." Rory pointed exasperatedly towards the message machine. Lorelai
looked at it curiously, then back at Rory who waved her hand at it
impatiently once more. Lorelai leaned over and pushed the button.
"Hey there, stud-muffin. You've reached the home of Porn Star and Bambi
McBimbo. We're not here right now; you're best bet is that we're out gallivanting in the streets or spending loads of money or skimpy clothing and hair bleach. Either way-' 'Mom! Say something normal!' 'Fine. This is
Lorelai and that other Lorelai. Leave us a message, and you'll get a
cookie." BEEP.
"Ok, we need a new message. I can't believe you interrupted my Bambi
McBimbo speech.."
"Mom! Listen!"
"Fine." Lorelai turned back to the machine.
"For God's sake, Lorelai! You must change that message! It's terribly
vulgar. Now, on Friday I want you girls to come at four o'clock sharp instead of seven, because we're having some guests over, one of Richard's new business partners and his family. Anyway, dress nicely and we'll see
you then. Ciao."
Lorelai turned to Rory.
"You have GOT to be kidding me."
"Sorry, Bambi. Looks like an extra three hours of hellish chit chat for
us."
"We're doomed!" Lorelai groaned, and flopped down on the couch.
"Mom, we have got to get ready! We'll be late, and Grandma will have a
seizure and then all hell will break loose. So, c'mon." "Ugh, fine." Lorelai grumbled and got off the couch. "Hey, have you seen my
new suede boots?"
"Yeah, second silverware drawer to the right."
"Thanks babe."
---------
"That's it. I am so not ringing the doorbell."
"It'll all be over in a few seconds." "But then we have to go in there, and pretend to like these people, and my
suede boots are hurting my feet and these pants are riding up my butt."
"There's an image I needed before dinner." "Oh please. As if you aren't immune to too-much-information after living
with me for 17 years."
"True."
"Alright, now ring it so we can get this over with."
"How about we both ring it at the same time?"
"Works for me. On the count of 12."
"4."
"6."
"3."
"12!"
Both poked the doorbell, and stepped back.
"Well, no turning back now."
"We could run."
"In boots?"
"Never mind." Suddenly the door was opened by a maid who looked as if she'd sucked the
juice from a dozen lemons.
"Good evening. Can I help you?"
"Yep. I'm somebody, and this is nobody."
"And nobody's perfect." Rory piped up. The maid looked between the two of
them, then, without moving her eyes from them, called to the adjoining
room,
"Mrs. Gilmore! You're daughter and grand daughter are here."
"Let them in, Mildred." Emily hurried into the foyer, looking slightly
flustered. "Oh, Lorelai. Rory. Thank goodness you're here; I was beginning to wonder
whether you didn't get the message."
"Nope. We got it. So, who's the mystery guest? Is he hot?"
"Lorelai! He is married with a child!"
".I'm guessing he's not hot." "Oh, for God's sake.anyway, he and his wife are in the drawing room. Their
son is in the study. Rory, you can go talk to him. He's your age, I
believe. Goes to Chilton too, so you might know him."
"What's his name?"
"Tristan DuGrey. Anyway-" But Rory tuned the rest of that out. Tristan? In her grandparent's house?
In the study? Three hours with Tristan DuGrey.ain't life a kick in the
head.
Tristan was bored. He'd been sitting in the study for at least half an hour. His parents were busy chatting up the.Gordons or Gilberts or whoever
they were. He had learned early on how to completely ignore what these ridiculous society pricks were saying, and if you just smiled and nodded and kissed their wrinkly, ancient hands they'd be instantly charmed. Same with those idiot girls he went out with.a compliment, a leer, and a kiss on the neck and they were hooked. For a week or so, at least.then they would find him making out with their best friend or study partner or something
and they knew they were old news. Well, at least that's how it usually worked. Then Rory came into the picture. Gorgeous, clever, witty Rory with an endless supply of witty retorts to match his every leer and smirk. God, he loved her. She was like no one he'd ever met or seen or even heard of. She was absolutely perfect. And, she detested him. Loathed him. Most likely had a dartboard set up in her room with his picture on it. The only girl who'd ever stolen his heart (which, up until now, he hadn't even realized existed), and damn if she hadn't kept it. But what irritated him the most was that she didn't have a clue. She thought he teased her for the sake of teasing. He teased her with that old 3rd grade mentality that the one you love deserves to have their hair pulled and their stuff snatched up when they weren't looking. It infuriated him, the way he acted around her. It
was as if, when he got within three feet of her, he went into dumb-ass
mode. Just had to be a jerk about everything. Call her Mary, push her
buttons. Jesus, if only- But that was when his thought process pretty much ended. Because there she was. Mary. Standing in the doorway, looking at him nervously. Man, she was beautiful. And she looked especially gorgeous tonight; her hair was falling down her back in ringlets, a few pieces framing her face. Her cerulean eyes were sparkling, and her cheeks were pink from the cold. She was dressed in
a little white dress, coming to her knees and flaring out slightly with
long sleeves. Beautiful, he thought again, and smiled slightly at her.
"Hey there, Mary." Oh for the love of God. Can't I get her name right once? Tristan thought,
annoyed with himself. Five seconds in a room with her and he'd already completely screwed up the evening. But for some reason, unknown even to her, she wasn't as annoyed with the name. Maybe it was because he looked so innocent, just sitting in that big leather chair, bored and messing up his hair with his fidgeting hands for lack of anything better to do. Whatever
it was, it made her feel a little less irritated. "Evening, Satan. I see they let you out of the fiery pits of hell to attend
a dinner with the Gilmores."
"I'll forever be grateful to my little pitch-fork-wielding minions. I
couldn't very well miss out on a night of fun with my favorite little Mary." He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively and she almost laughed. What's
wrong with me? She thought nervously. Why do I think this is funny? She
decided to blame it on the cold. "If you decide to describe this agonizing evening as a 'night of fun' to any of your twisted little cronies, several key body parts will be missing
the following afternoon."
"So I guess I'll have to take the 'Magdalene' out of the picture."
"Just stick with Mary. No Magdalene. Or, if you're feeling especially
generous, the name Rory is also appreciated."
"Hmm."Tristan pretended to think while tapping his chin. ".nah. I prefer
Mary. Suits you."
"I don't know whether that's a compliment or an insult."
"Just use your eternal optimism."
"You called me a prude. What's optimistic about that?"
"I didn't call you a prude. I called you Mary."
"Same thing." "Nope. Paris is a prude. That girl in 5th period with the misshapen ear is
a prude. You're a Mary."
"Her ear isn't misshapen!"
"Oh please. It's pointy! She looks like a Keebler elf."
"You're blind."
"You're pretty."
"Again, I say, you're blind."
"Why? Cause I think you're pretty? Look around, Ror. Every guy at Chilton
thinks you're hot. But, since you're a Mary, they stick with the sluts.
Plus, you're already taken."
"Yes, I am taken. Dean would have a fit if you let any of those Chiltonites
think I was single."
"I mean taken by a Chiltonite."
".Who?"
"Me, obviously."
"Run that by me again."
"Well, you're pretty much pegged as mine. I like you, so guys are smart enough to know that it's only a matter of time before you fall into my arms
like you know you want to."
"Again, back up; I'm pegged? You.pegged me?"
"You realize I could twist those three words into a plethora of raunchy
sexual innuendos."
"Plethora. Looks like somebody's been using their word-of-the-day
calendar." "Caught me. Anyway, you've been standing in that doorway for the past ten
minutes. Why don't you, I dunno, come into the room?" "Oh.okay." Rory blushed; she hadn't realized she'd just been standing there while they went through their banter. She crossed the room and sat down on a chair opposite of him; she curled her legs under her, ducking the skirt
daintily around her legs. "Alright, now that we're through with the customary witty repartee, we need to return to the 'pegging' comment. First of all, you don't have me pegged, I already have a boyfriend. Secondly, you don't even really like me. You just have this strange little obsession with getting me to fall madly in
love with you. You're failing miserably at that, by the way."
"Give it time. So how is Boy Scout? Still helping little old ladies
crossing the street?"
"As opposed to pushing them into oncoming traffic, like a certain someone I
know?"
"You wound me, Mary."
"That's becoming awfully cliché."
"Alright.you're breakin' my heart, Mar."
"Hm.that has a definite ring to it."
"I agree. Alright, back to original topic; how is the ol' bean pole?"
"Dean is fine."
"You sound practically giddy when his name is mentioned."
"Better than going through two girls a week."
"You're breakin' my heart, Mar."
"I like how that just slides into the conversation. But when that gets too
cliché, you can switch back to the whole wound-me-Mary thing."
"Sounds like a plan. So why no googly-eyes or dreamy smiles when
Frankenstein is mentioned? All not sugary in Lollipop Land? Is a ride
broken in Disneyland? Field of daisies not as much fun to frolic in
anymore? Is-"
"That's enough of that."
"Sorry. Are my droll quips too much for you to keep up with?"
"Yes. That must be why I was trying to shut you up." "You know." Tristan leered and leaned towards her chair, ".there are better
ways to keep my mouth occupied."
"Oh, for the love of coffee beans, do you have a sexual insinuation for
every sentence that comes out of my mouth?" Tristan tapped his chin in mock contemplation. "Yes, I do believe all your
innocent words can be twisted to my own raunchy amusement."
"My words aren't the only thing that's twisted." Rory muttered, and glanced up to catch a flash of a genuine grin before that insufferable smirk was
back in place.
"So, three hours of banter? Think you're up for it?"
"I live in the same town as Kirk. I have long since been immune to annoyances." She grinned and curled up in the chair. This was going to be
quite a night.