An Author's Very Rambly, Very Inecusably Late Ramblings- So, I know that I suck for keeping this to myself for the past… (looks at watch) year. I'm aware. And I do feel guilty. Not the kind of guilt that will keep me from functioning day to day in my very hectic, very crazy, very busy life, but it's guilt nonetheless. Anyway. Here it is, I've been told by Ames that it's good, and I like it, finally, so I am deeming it worthy of the masses, finally, after writing this for one year. And sadly, this isn't even the piece that has taken me the longest to write. Something much harder and way closer to my heart currently holds that place, and maybe someday I'll win my battle with it and be able to post it.

Thank You- A huge thank you goes out to my beta Ames, who is the best beta and an even better friend than a girl like me, with all my moodiness and rants deserves. She's fabulous, and we all worship at her feet. Or at least we all should. And to Jackie and M, who both stick it out with me and put up with my crankiness and my nutty little tangents because they love me so much. And that love is returned, as is the willingness to put up with crankiness and moodiness and nutty tangents and rants, because Lord knows I deserve the payback for my HB rants alone.

So, here you go, Chapter Twelve, and let me just give you a warning, the title doesn't lie. The last one is a doozy. Don't say you weren't told to stay away, my faint of heart readers!

Chapter Twelve- The Last One's a Doozy

Hurry, hurry, hurry, Mollie thought to herself, quickly turning down the street and making a turn that was only slightly illegal, and sped dangerously past the large estates with imposing edifices and perfectly manicured lawns and made an insanely quick left; the tires of the Lexus sending a shower of gravel from the driveway onto the impossibly green grass before squealing to a stop.

"CASSIE!" Mollie screeched, bursting in through the front door of Orchard Hill. "HELP ME!"

In seconds, the usually calm and collected Cassie Sullivan all but ran from the drawing room, heels clicking and clacking like mad on the mahogany floors. "Mollie! Honey, what's wrong?" She asked breathlessly, leaning against the wall for support as she breathed heavily.

"Everything!" Mollie wailed, as she dumped the armload of expensive dresses she had been holding onto a teak sideboard. "I don't know what to wear. Everything makes me look fat or flat, hippy or like a hippy."

"You--," Cassie could barely get enough air to yell at the girl. "You scared the living daylights out of me because you didn't know what to wear! I thought it was an emergency!"

"Hello?" Mollie rolled her eyes. "Fashion emergency? Ever heard of them?"

"I mean a real emergency." Cassie said, clearly straddling the line between annoyed and amused by Mollie's antics. "You know, like death. A broken limb. Severe head trauma, with lots of gore and blood. Something that requires a visit to the nearest hospital."

"Ew!" Mollie wrinkled her nose in distaste. "Blood? Do you really and truly think that if I, or anyone else, was bleeding severely from the head or anywhere else that I would be able to stop panicking long enough to drive a car two miles?"

"Well, no, but--," She started to protest, but thought better of it. It would be a lot easier to just give up now than to go on debating what constituted an emergency worthy of raising her terror level the way Mollie just had. "What exactly is this for?" Cassie wondered, looking at the wide variety of styles in the pile of clothing.

"A party." Mollie answered, plopping dramatically onto the staircase, putting her head in her hands. "The Whitman's party, to be exact."

"Well, that explains the mass of white fabric." She commented, extracting two pieces from the jumble and tossing them to Mollie. "Wear these. They're fun, flirty, and completely you without being you."

"How'd you know what I was going for?" Mollie looked at Cassie, a look of slight wonderment in her eyes. It was the perfect outfit. How had she missed that combination?

"Babe, you only come to me for fashion advice when you decide to do an overhaul on your style." She smiled, sitting down next to her on the stairs. "Which also means that you've done something very, very naughty."

Blushing slightly, Mollie looked away. "Let's just chalk it up to the fact that I'm an idiot, and leave it at that, okay?"

Cassie put an arm around her, pulling her in for a hug. "Come on, you can tell me all about it while I do you hair."

"Can you do that curly thing you do so well? With the cute little clippies?" Mollie asked, perking up slightly, taking the hand that was offered to her for assistance in getting up.

Laughing, Cassie led her up the sweeping staircase. "I'll even let you borrow something shiny."

--&--

"… And then I saw Graham in the bushes, and I couldn't help myself." Cassie listened intently to Mollie's tale, letting the last strand of golden hair loose. The spiral fell down, joining the thick mass of curls cascading down Mollie's back.

"Mollie…."

"I know, I know!" Mollie moaned dramatically. "I suck."

"You don't suck." Cassie assured her, holding back a smile while she worked a bit of shine product into Mollie's hair. "Well, Tristan might think you do, but you don't suck."

"I'll fix this though, just you wait." Mollie declared. "Then, he won't be mad at me."

"So he's mad?" Cassie asked, twisting a few locks together and fastening them in place with a diamond-studded clip.

"I'm not exactly sure." Mollie bit the inside of her cheek. "Graham went after him. I guess I'll find out tonight at the party. Graham's in charge of getting him there. Well, Tristan's driving, so I guess that he's responsible for getting Graham there, but Graham has to get Tristan to go before that can happen. You know how he gets after stuff like this."

"That I do." Cassie gave her hair one last fluff and adjusted the clip. "Mollie, did you ever think that maybe this afternoon was God's way of telling you to stop meddling in the boys' lives?"

"Please, they're both useless when it comes to this stuff." Mollie scoffed at the suggestion. "Tristan has been waiting around for years for Rory, and so far has not made a move."

"He told her he wanted her." Cassie reminded her as she walked over to a glossy wooden chest and stood a few yards away from the dressing table where Mollie was seated. Mollie's eyes followed the Cassie's fingers as they rummaged through the contents.

"Yeah, but what has he done since then?" Mollie asked, still watching, trying to figure out what Cassie was looking for. "He hasn't done anything, that's what."

"Maybe he's waiting for Rory to come to him, and not for you to force them together."

"Rory's worse than he is. She wants him, you can totally tell, but she keeps going on and on about not wanting to make any more mistakes." Mollie made a face. "She doesn't seem to grasp that if she lets Tristan go for too long, she'll be making the biggest mistake of all. Which is what Rory will be learning tonight, at the party."

"Mollie, I don't think that it's such a good idea to start another plan so soon after the last one went south. When are you going to learn that meddling always turns out bad for you?"

"It's not really meddling, technically." Mollie said, picking at a tiny bit of dirt at the edge of her French manicure. "I'm just going to a party with a friend. And if said friend looks drop dead gorgeous and the boy she's crushing on just happens to be there… well, that's just a lucky coincidence. Purely happenstance. Serendipity, if you will."

"Mollie…." Cassie trailed off, knowing it was useless to try and dissuade the girl. "Just don't cross the line from kind-of-but-not-really meddling into full-blown meddling."

"I promise." Mollie smiled, holding up two fingers. "Scout's honor."

"I know it's been awhile since I was a Girl Scout, but I'm pretty sure that it's three fingers, not two." Cassie laughed, finding what she was looking for in the box at last.

"How would I know?" Mollie said sheepishly, fixing her fingers. "I didn't even make it through the first year of Daisies. I didn't have any fun without the boys, and that blue smock did nothing for my figure."

"You are too much." Cassie laughed heartily. "Turn around." She said, slipping a delicate string of glittering emeralds around Mollie's neck as she did so. "Perfect."

"I love this necklace." Mollie grinned from ear to ear, lightly touching one of the emerald clusters floating across her collarbone. "Can I keep it?"

"No, you may borrow it. And tomorrow, you will bring it back when you turn back into a pumpkin."

"But emeralds are my favorite!" Mollie pouted. "They match my eyes."

"It's not going to work, Babe, so suck in that bottom lip."

"Can I have it when you die, then?"

"Are you planning on bumping me off for it?" Cassie raised an eyebrow, amused. "It's a family heirloom. It's been passed down for generations."

"So? I highly doubt that Graham would miss it. Sapphires are more his speed. They bring out the brilliance in those baby blues of his. Green would do nothing for him."

"Yes, I'm sure that you're right. But what if I were to have a daughter? The emeralds have to travel with the bloodline. They'd go to her."

"Please, you can't have any more kids." Mollie scoffed, gazing at her reflection in the mirror.

"Why not?" Cassie asked, hands on her hips. "I'm still young. And on more than one occasion, I have heard myself be referred to as a hot mom."

"It's got nothing to do with your age or hotness." Mollie answered, turning to look at her. "You don't have any time or energy for another kid. After all, the three of us are going to be at Yale next year, and you know how much of a handful we are, especially when in close proximity to one another."

"The three of you?"

"Graham didn't tell you? Tristan's transferring."

"Well, yes but--,"

"Of course, Tristan's being a bit pessimistic about the whole thing, but I know that once he and Rory get together, he'll be much happier about it. It'll all be perfect, just perfect."

"Mollie--,"

"Oh! Look at the time." Mollie glanced down at her watch, realizing she had spent more time at Orchard Hill than she anticipated. "I still have to get Rory ready. And convince her to go." Mollie turned back, giving herself a quick once over before walking toward the door.

"Mollie!" Cassie called, hurrying after her. Mollie paused at the top of the stairs, looking at her expectantly. This was her chance. She could tell her, get it over with. But the words were caught in her throat, unmoving. "Have fun tonight." Cassie told her, chickening out.

"Of course. When do I not have fun?" Mollie beamed. "I'll tell you all about it when I come over tomorrow. Bye!"

Cassie cursed under her breath. Once more, she had failed to tell Mollie. Why did she have to be the one, anyway? Why did she have to be the secret keeper for everyone? One of these days, she was going to have to do it, no matter how much she didn't want to.

And her time was running out.

--&--

"Get up!" Mollie said cheerfully when she burst into Rory's room. "We have a lot to do, and very, very little time to do it in."

Rory sat up from the spot she had been lying in all afternoon, watching Mollie disappear into her closet before getting up to follow. "Put this on." Mollie thrust a crisp white linen dress into Rory's hands before looking down to inspect the neat rows of shoes lined up on the floor. "These don't work!" She said, brushing past Rory, who was still a little behind on what was happening.

Quickly getting her bearings back, Rory followed Mollie back out Rory's door and in through her own down the hall. Rory hurried over to the closet, where a steady stream of shoes seemed to be flying out on their own volition.

"What's going on?" Rory asked, ducking to avoid the lime-green espadrille that came straight for her head.

"Why aren't you dressed yet?" Mollie asked, tossing aside a pair of lilac pumps. "I told you, we don't have a lot of time." She picked up a tangerine platform, inspecting it for a few seconds before discarding that too.

"What are you looking for?" Rory asked, staring at the massive collection that Mollie was searching through.

"Aha!" Mollie cried out happily, holding a pair of high-heeled silver sandals in one hand and two beaded, white flip-flops in the other.

"Here." Mollie handed the flip-flops to Rory, who still had the linen dress dangling from her fingers by the halter. "What are you waiting for? Get dressed!"

"I'm waiting for the explanation." Rory crossed her arms over her chest. "What is going on?"

"Tad and Tibby Whitman are having a party. We're going. Enough details for you?" Mollie answered, slipping her feet into the metallic sandals.

"Thanks for asking if I even wanted to go." Rory scowled. "I'm not in a party mood."

"That's your choice, of course. I won't force you to go with me." Mollie shrugged. "But just so you know, it's Gran's bridge night. In about half an hour, this whole place will be crawling with all of her friends. I'll be leaving in twenty minutes if you change your mind." She turned away, adjusting the hem of her strapless top while sneaking a glance at Rory, as she deliberated in the mirror. "You never know, maybe they'll let you join the D.A.R."

That last comment seemed to help Rory to see the light. "I'll be ready in ten!" Rory announced, hurrying out the door and down the hall to get dressed.

Mollie was so happy she nearly cackled with glee. Her plan was working. Rory and Tristan would be together soon, Mollie could feel it in her bones.

All she had to do tonight was get them in the same room. Surely they could take it from there. And then she would work on getting her own love life back on track. Everything was falling into place for Rory and Tristan. It would do the same for Mollie.

Right?

--&--

As soon as her cell phone started to ring, she knew.

Something had gone wrong.

All of her carefully calculated plans were evaporating with each obnoxious beep of the phone, while she stood in the middle of the cobblestone driveway of Maison de la Glace, glaring at an unfortunate shrub. If looks could kill, the glossy green leaves would have shriveled up, wilting into a pile on the blades of grass. Mollie sent Rory ahead, promising to rejoin her in a few minutes. She couldn't let her hear this call and know that it was all a setup.

"We have a problem." Graham greeted her when she finally answered the phone.

"What did you do, Graham?" Mollie snipped, panic setting in.

"I lost him."

"You what?" Mollie screeched, drawing the attention of a few nearby partygoers chatting on the front lawn. "You had one job. One job." Did she have to do everything by herself? Because there were only so many hours in each day, she couldn't possibly do every single thing in every single one of her plans. "You were supposed to get him here and keep tabs on him until I got here with Rory. That's it. I didn't think it was going to be that hard."

"I think he guessed what your plan was. He said that he wasn't going to be a party to anything you'd cooked up and that he was done playing nice and that he didn't want to deal with 'all this crap' anymore."

"This is bad."

"That's not the worst of it."

"How could this possibly get any worse? This screws up everything. Now I'm going to have to reconfigure everything. He's not going to see her when she walks in the door. She's not going to see him from across the room, and neither of them will realize that they are being complete and total morons and finally get together. Now I'm going to have to come up with a new plan, and these things don't just fall into my head. They take time and careful plotting."

"Georgia walked in about ten minutes ago."

Mollie gasped. "No!"

"Yes."

"I'm going to kill her." Mollie growled, gripping her cell phone tighter. "What is she doing in Newport? She's supposed to be in Cannes for the summer."

"I don't know." Graham sighed. Mollie could practically see him scrubbing his face with his hand, like he always did when he was frustrated. "All I know is that she's here, and she knows Tristan is, too."

"I'll be in there in two seconds; we have to do some serious damage control."

"Bye."

Mollie stamped her foot against the hard stones beneath her toes and snapped her phone shut. She had to find a way to fix this and fast.

--&--

Swirling masses of white surrounded her as she walked in the front door. The Whitman's Annual White party was in full swing, and there were already at least a hundred people there. Suddenly, she was glad that she had finally acquiesced to Mollie's choice in dresses for this evening. Originally, she had thought that it was a bit odd that Mollie, who seemed to always need to stand out and be the center of everything and everyone's attention, would want to go anywhere in the same color as someone else. But now, standing in the midst of all the others dressed like her, she was glad to have been given a heads up on what was acceptable to wear.

"Rory!" Turning around to see who was calling her name, Rory gasped when she saw that it was none other than Louise Grant weaving through the crowd toward her.

"Louise!" She called back, giving the blonde a hug once she was in front of her. "What are you doing here?"

"This is the place to be. Where else would I be? The better question is what are you doing here?" Louise raised an eyebrow. "I thought you hated these kinds of parties. You only ever came to one that I know of."

"I'm visiting Newport with my grandmother this summer." Rory explained, looking around for moment, trying to spot the raven-haired girl who was never far when Louise was around. "Where's Madeline?"

"Newport."

"I figured that much, but is she here at the party?"

"Rory, she's in Newport."

"I know. So are we!"

"No, she's in Newport, California." Louise clarified. "You know, the land of eternal melodrama and Ryan Atwood?"

"Why?" Rory asked, very confused. She had always known Madeline and Louise as a single entity. Wherever one was, the other was sure to be. To see Louise without her sidekick was disconcerting.

"Last week I said, 'let's go to Newport for the summer.' She had to go to see her mom in Tokyo, so she was going to go there and catch a flight back after while I visited my dad, who's still under house arrest. But for some reason, she thought I meant Newport, California, instead of Newport, Rhode Island. Like I would ever suggest going anywhere near that hole. Much too commercial. Besides, everyone who's anyone in New England comes to Newport. This Newport, not the other one. So Madeline is hopping on the next plane and will be here by noon tomorrow."

"Wow." Rory said, trying not to laugh. It was amusing, but she could see that Louise was looking a little lost, and her laughter would probably not help her withstand the next eighteen hours without her other half.

"So what are you doing here?" Louise asked, raising an eyebrow once more.

"I told you, I'm visiting with my grandmother."

"I meant what are you doing here at this party?" Louise explained more fully. "You aren't exactly the type. You left spring break early, after all."

"Coming here wasn't exactly my idea. I kind of got shanghaied into it." Rory explained. "I didn't really want to spend any more time than I had to with my grandmother and her friends."

"So who'd you come with?" Louise asked. A loud squeal near the bar caught both of their attention. Both girls' gazes went across the room, where they saw a blonde launch herself on something tall, dark, and handsome. "Oh, I am so glad I got here early. Things are about to get very, very interesting."

--&--

"My entire goal in life is to outlive my brother, inherit the family fortune, put all my sisters out on the street and live as frivolously as possible, have numerous wives, thousands of illegitimate children, die completely alone, and leave every cent to a parrot named Polly." Robert recited as he led Mollie from the dance floor to the bar. They had met at the door, both arriving at the same time, and were eager to catch up.

"I love it." Mollie beamed, taking a seat at the bar. After the three songs she'd danced to with Robert, she was in need of some refreshment. "And I agree with your decision to switch from a hamster named Herbert to a parrot named Polly."

"It adds an air of eccentricity that Herbert just couldn't provide, don't you think?" Robert turned toward the bartender. "Scotch on the rocks."

Mollie put in her order of something fruity and pink with at least one umbrella before responding. "You are definitely right about the eccentricity that parrots provide. They're so exotic and unusual, especially as a pet. Everyone has a hamster, but who has a parrot?"

"Plus it's much more practical." Robert took a sip of the scotch placed before him. "I need something with the potential to outlive me. Hamsters have a life expectancy of what? Nine Months? It'll take longer than that for me to find someone with syphilis, much less become infected and go crazy and blind from it."

Mollie laughed, scanning the room. Rory was over by the stairs, chatting away with that relentless social climber Louise Grant. Graham was still searching for Tristan, who was still missing in action, as was Georgia, which was very, very bad. All Georgia ever seemed to want to do was screw Tristan over, and Tristan only had enough fun for that to be worth it less than half the time. Mollie still couldn't believe that she'd ever called that lying, cheating, good-for-nothing, evil temptress a friend. The very thought sent a shiver down her spine. Mollie liked to consider herself a good judge of character, and how that snake in the grass got past her 'Psycho Hose Beast' radar, she still didn't know.

"Have I mentioned that you look breathtakingly beautiful tonight?" Robert's voice broke through her thoughts, pulling Mollie back into their conversation.

"Why no, Robert, you have yet to comment on my breathtaking beauty, or my general fabulousness, as a matter of fact." Mollie flipped a few curls over her shoulder, smiling wide.

"Does that count, or are you expecting me to say it again?" Robert asked her. Mollie raised an eyebrow in answer, and he repeated the line. "Mollie, you look breathtakingly beautiful tonight, and in general, you are always fabulous as well."

"Wow, Robert." Mollie fluttered her eyelashes in an exaggerated manner. "Keep that up, and you may actually make me blush."

"One day, Dear." He patted her hand for a moment. "One more thing to add to my list of life goals. I think I'll put it above reading The Iliad, and below losing an extremity to frostbite."

"I'm flattered, Robert." Mollie twirled a strand of her hair around her fingers, leaning in a little bit. "That's a prime slot in your to-do list."

"There you go, Miss." The bartender said, depositing a tall glass, full of a frothy, frosted concoction, complete with two tiny purple umbrellas, down in front of her, along with a blue raspberry Jell-O shot.

"Excuse me!" Mollie called him back, waving the tiny glass in the air. "I didn't order this."

"A gentleman on the other end of the bar asked me to bring it to you." The young man told her.

"Well, take it back."

"But Miss…." The bartender looked around, unsure of what to do.

"Mollie, just keep it. What's the harm?" Robert asked, not enjoying the disruption of their conversation.

"There is no harm in it. But I don't want it, and I didn't order it, and I shouldn't feel compelled to keep something that I don't want or need or--,"

"Love, would you just take the bloody shot?" Mollie's mouth dropped open at the sound of his voice behind her. "It's enough to make a man feel unappreciated and unloved, the way you carried on about my very special gift."

"Finn!" In an instant, Mollie had left her seat, catapulting herself at him in a flash of white, leaving Robert forgotten, next to her drink. He staggered back a little, not expecting Mollie to launch herself into his arms with such intensity. "What are you doing here? I thought you were still stuck in Indonesia!"

"Mummy had Uncle Henchy call off the Indonesian Coast Guard and ordered me to come straight home." Finn told her, twirling her around a few times. "So naturally, I spent a few weeks in Canberra, then flew to Belize for a few days, and then somehow ended up in Miami for a month. I swear, if I were gone another twenty-four hours, I'd have been disinherited for sure."

"She's always threatening you with that, and she's never gone through with it." Mollie positively glowed at the sight of him. "You have to promise never to go away for this long again without taking me with you. Everything in Hartford is frightfully dull without you."

"Will my word suffice, or am I going to have to pinky promise?" Finn asked with a devilish grin. "I do warn you, that the latter will force me to put you down. I'm not nearly strong enough to hold you with only one arm."

"HEY!"

"I mean, the sheer weight of your personality alone would cripple a lesser man than I." He joked, ducking his head to avoid her swatting hand.

"You are mean." Mollie pouted, quelling the giddy little butterflies dancing around in her stomach. Finn was without a doubt her favorite person in Hartford, and this past year spent without him to make the rounds with at all of the boring parties and charity events had been nearly unbearable. "And to think that I put in at least twenty minutes every day missing you."

"I'm so sorry that you think that." Finn sighed, looking away. "Then I suppose that I'll have to give your very fabulous present to someone else that doesn't think I'm quite so mean." His face lit up, clearly ready to mock her. "I know! Maybe I should mosey on over there, to give it to Louise! I'm sure she'd appreciate it."

"Don't you dare!" Mollie narrowed eyes flashed, green as the emeralds glittering around her neck. "Where is it?" She asked, trying to search his pockets while still pressed against him. "What is it? Do you have it here? Is it smaller than a breadbox? Bigger than a steamer trunk? Did you find it somewhere fabulous? Does it--,"

"Darling, you're going to have to remember that the game only allows twenty questions. Perhaps you should slow down and give me an opportunity to answer them before beating me down with useless ones." He was surprised when she got quiet and waited for him to answer her.

"Well?"

"Well, I can't tell you what it is, Love. It's a surprise." Again he ducked, her hand coming at him once more. "And it's not here, and yes, it's smaller than a breadbox, so obviously, it's also smaller than a steamer trunk, and lastly, would I ever give you a gift that wasn't procured in some exotic, fabulous locale?"

He was right, and Mollie knew it. Whether it was chocolates from Belgium, or her surfboard from Fiji, or even her adorable cuckoo clock from Switzerland; he had never done anything but overwhelm her with his gifts from his travels abroad.

"So, where is it then?" Mollie asked him again. "And why didn't you bring it with you?"

"How was I to know you'd be here?"

"And where else would I be on the night of the Whitman's Annual White Party?"

"Far away from Georgia?"

"Hardly." Mollie scoffed, narrowing her eyes at the mere mention of her one-time friend. "I am not the one who's supposed to be skulking off across the Atlantic. I will not hide in my house like a criminal while she takes over my town."

"Good to know." Finn chuckled, amused. The music changed, and he smiled at her.

You can dance…

"How about a dance, Darling?" He asked, finally setting her down.

… you the eye, let him hold you tight…

Mollie touched her chin, contemplating. "They're playing our song." He coaxed, twirling her body into his.

"You always say that."

"I know." He spun her out again, before pulling her close, winding their way onto the dance floor. "But this time, Love, I really, really mean it."

So Darling save the last dance for me…

--&--

Evil ex-girlfriends. Missing persons. Friendships torn apart for the love of someone unworthy of the affection. Families turned upside down from infidelity. Fathers forgotten for doing the secretary. Mothers forced to marry men with enough money to keep their families from public humiliation.

There was far, far too much drama in her new circle of friends.

Louise had filled her in on the goings on of the people she was now surrounded with. Rory would have never guessed that she would have found so many Shakespearian themes within such a small group of people. But according to Louise, these things seemed to flock to them like moths to a flame.

Tristan's life was so complicated. Maybe even too complicated. He had too many problems to deal with, too many issues to struggle with, and if she added herself into the mix, with her own baggage, she wasn't sure that they'd both come out alive.

And then there was the Evil Ex.

Georgia, according to Louise, was probably the great love of Tristan's young life. They'd dated on and off for two years, and every time they'd parted, it was on a bigger and more grandiose scale, until finally, after their last split, Tristan disappeared without a trace for two months, without contact to anyone. When he resurfaced, Tristan had refused to talk about it, or tell anyone where he'd been. Rumors ran rampant, and the most popular was that he'd spent his time away in a monastery in Eastern Europe making cheese and working with the monks under a cloak of silence.

Weaving her way through the people scattered on the sweeping staircase, Rory found herself in a place of serenity and peace.

The library.

Running her fingers across the old volumes calmed her nerves and brought her back to her center. This was where she belonged, amidst her books, not down stairs, fighting her way through throngs of people she didn't know and didn't care to know. Why had she agreed to come? Even the D.A.R. bridge game couldn't be as bad as this, shut up in a stranger's house, all alone, trying to block out the sounds of laughter and the blare of the bass coming from outside the walls of literature.

"Do you always hide yourself away at parties, Gilmore?" Rory whirled around, startled by the voice behind her. "I mean, the action is down there, with the rest of the crowd." Tristan kept on, leaning against the doorway. "Unless, of course, you were looking for a different kind of action, in which case, I'd be more than happy to help you out."

Rory rolled her eyes. It always had come back to that with Tristan. "Seems like you have a one-track mind, Dugrey." She wanted to turn her back on him, to go back to the books that sat on the shelves behind her, but her feet wouldn't move and her eyes wouldn't break the connection she had with Tristan. "Do you ever think of anything else?"

"Yeah, I do." He finally broke away from the door, walking inside the room to where she was still standing. Rory watched him come toward her, still unable to move, still unable to look away. "I think about a lot of things."

Tristan's eyes were focused on her lips, and she had trouble catching her breath. They were standing very close, but they weren't touching each other. "At night when I'm in bed, and I'm trying to fall asleep, I think about kissing you. I think about how you taste and the way that you feel with your lips pressed against mine, and I can't stop myself even when it's killing me to stay away from you," he whispered into her ear.

She closed her eyes and breathed in his musky scent, trying to stay calm. He was too close, and it was wreaking havoc with her senses. Rory could feel herself losing the hold she had on her self-control. She knew if she asked him to move away he would, but Rory didn't want that either.

"Relax Rory, I'm not going to do anything until you ask me to. I just want you to know I think about you all the time." His tongue flicked out of his mouth, the tip running over the outer shell of her ear, and Rory could feel herself getting turned on.

Rory's eyes opened wide when she felt his index finger caress her cheek softly. "Here. Here. And here." Tristan swept his finger across her cheek and over to her lips, and then trailed it down to the sensitive corner of her neck.

Suddenly, Rory wished she hadn't followed Mollie's fashion advice. The low cut back of her dress made it impossible to wear a bra, and with only the gauzy white material to cover her, she didn't think she could hide her body's reaction to his voice whispering in her ear.

"And when I think about kissing you, my mind starts to wander." he murmured seductively. "I think of all the other things we'll do." Rory gulped hard when Tristan gave her a suggestive smile. "I wonder what you'll feel like when I'm moving inside you. How tight and wet you'll be for me. It drives me up the wall." He continued.

Tristan moved closer, his shirt brushing against her breasts. Her nipples hardened at the slight contact, and she closed her eyes again, letting his words soak into her soul.

"I think about your legs wrapped around me and you screaming my name when I make you come harder than you ever have before. I think about how hot you are and how hard you make me when I think of you." Tristan slid his fingers over her collarbone to the curve of her neck, sending her senses soaring.

"Tristan…"Rory moaned and bit her lower lip hard, fighting to keep her composure. But Tristan was a master of seduction and knew just how to handle her every step of the way. She was at her breaking point, he could feel it.

"Yeah, like that only a little bit louder." He teased, gently biting her earlobe, tugging it between his teeth. Maybe he wasn't still in love with his ex, like Louise had led her to believe only an hour before. Perhaps Rory was an old-fashioned girl, but the intimacy of what he was doing made her think that Georgia was the furthest thing from Tristan's mind.

"I think about what it would be like to go down on you," he whispered next, tilting his head back to watch her reaction. Rory froze when he said this, but Tristan took it as a good sign when she didn't protest his hands sliding down her arms and settling on her hips. "I think about that all the time. How you'll call my name when I make you come over and over again, and I can't get these thoughts out of my head and I can't sleep because every time I close my eyes, all I can see is you," he muttered into her ear, his long fingers stroking small circles into her sides.

"I'm sorry," Rory apologized. It was ridiculous, she knew, to apologize for something that she didn't have control over, but she didn't have anything else to say.

Tristan laughed a deep, throaty laugh. "Don't be. I know I'm not. You're all I think about, and I wouldn't change that for anything in the world."

He took a step closer, and Rory thought he would finally kiss her. Tristan's lips were less than an inch away from her own when he whispered, "Do you know what I fantasize about the most, Rory?" Tristan didn't wait for her to answer as he continued. "The day you'll finally let me in and admit you want all of these things just as much as I do."

Rory knew she was going to have to make the first move. He was right, she did want all of those things. She wanted him just as much as he did her. All he was asking her to do was bridge the inch-wide gap and press her lips to his. Such a tiny chasm had never seemed to be so expansive before this moment.

"It's okay," he assured her in the same tone he had been using the entire time he was leading her through his seduction. "I can wait." He brushed his lips against her temple, and flashed her a smirk. "Just don't make me wait too long. I have a reputation to uphold here."

And with that, he was gone. Tristan turned and walked away from her as quickly as he had joined her only moments prior. But suddenly, the quiet that had seemed so safe before his arrival wasn't as comforting as it had been. She knew what she had to do.

"Wait!" Rory called after him, rushing toward the door, thoughts of uncertainty and insurmountable obstacles long forgotten. The beaded shoes on her feet flipped and flopped, making smacking sounds against the wood floor. She couldn't let him walk away again, not this time. Rory twisted the knob and hurried into the hallway.

Standing there, in front of her, was a very smug-looking Tristan Dugrey, leaning against the wall as if he'd been waiting for hours. "What took you so long?" He asked, his lips curving irritatingly.

Rory was in front of him in three quick strides. There was only one thing in the world that she could think of that would be effective in removing that annoying smirk from his face.

She kissed him.

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