Hey everyone, thanks so much for your reviews, they mean the world to me. ;) Heres the next installment.

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How was it possible that one little sentence, not even a sentence really…just three words strung together, expel both pleasure and a throbbing ache inside him. The latter with out much warning; Just a gut wrenching pain, leaving him equally breathless and reeling. Three words; two nouns, and an ampersand. 'Rory and Tristan'.

Obviously, the fact that he got to work with Rory was music to his ears. But, if Rory being coerced into working, and socializing with his father was the current play list, he was putting on a cd. A very, very different Cd.

For it would be wholly unjustified to believe that the Dugrey fortune was earned on the backs of the fastidious nature of pleasant conversations, and flawless respectability. Yes, they were respected. Minor detail, Tristan mused. Dugrey respect had more semblance akin to fear. He could not, nor, would not, allow his Mary to become just another sycophant running around doing his fathers bidding.

Rory was an enigma, one he was doing his damndest to get to know. She wasn't making things easy on him. Albeit he probably was not doing that either. He knew she thought of herself as a conquest. He could see it in her eye. In her seething anger, that glint of malice he saw today only proved it. It proved something else too though. That despite everything she claimed to the contrary, he was getting to her. He liked that. However sadistic that sounded. He wanted her to think about him, even if only for a fleeting moment.

He walked the seemingly hollowed hallways, swaying his head left and right rhythmically to the reverberating sound of his footsteps permeating the halls; he was on a mission. A mission he was sure better men had both tried, and failed. He was in search of a girl. Not just any girl as one might conclude after hearing his name, and reputation. This was a particular breed of girl; some, including him, might say the perfect girl; He was in search of Rory.

She had been skillfully avoiding him all afternoon, much to his chagrin. The one time he actually had something of substance to offer her in lieu of his usual sexually repressed banter, she decided to turn chameleon and disappear on him. He'd been to the cafeteria twice already expecting her to be their, it almost seemed a given; to no avail though. He also had checked both the library and the newspaper room; he was starting to run out of ideas.

Hearing the sound of another person's footstep, he slowed his pace to that of a turtle stuck in a jar of peanut butter. Turning his body slightly to appease himself with a view of his companion; he chuckled lightly, giddy at the prospect of it being Rory.

His eyes scanned the hall just in time to catch sight of her chestnut hair billowing behind her as she attempted to retreat into the nearest classroom with out him taking notice. Oh, but he saw. Turning on his heels, he languidly made his way towards her proverbial rabbit hole.

"It's too bad my father isn't a Private Eye, your pretty good at being allusive."

"Or your sleuthing skills just aren't what they used to be" she quipped, lowering her shoulders in defeat.

"Touché" She obviously could not contain the smile at his word, because here she was beaming up at him with a thoroughly kissable smile. Wait…what was it he wanted to find her for, he could not quite seem to remember.

"So, did you want something? Or are you just going to stand their gaping like an idiot all afternoon, because frankly, I have far more important things to do then be enrolled in one of your male fantasies."

His mind still a little foggy from her previous action he corrected her with "female fantasies. Wait, what?"

"Tristan" she clucked disapprovingly, simultaneously stamping her foot.

He offered a small smile in return as his mind began to break free of the haze. He did not get like this; he didn't know what was going on. He had never been the kind of person to lose his cool in front of girl, and yet here he was being reduced to nothing more then a jackass.

"I wanted to talk to you about this project," He finally spluttered.

"Ok" she questioned, "what about it?"

The warning bell signaling the end of lunch rang causing Tristan to glare disdainfully at the ceiling. What perfect timing he seemed to have.

"Maybe I can drive you home after school, we could talk about the project then" he questioned imploringly. Maybe it was his pathetic plea, that caused her to nod her head, or maybe it was a last ditch effort to maneuver herself around him and out the door. Either way, he was driving her home after school, and he could not be happier. As the late bell rang, he laughed. On the other hand, maybe he could be.

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School was out, and once again, Rory was nowhere to be found. Sighing, he leaned his back up against the locker next to hers, hoping she would end up here eventually. Almost instantly, she rounded the corner, laughing at something she was reading in her book. He took this moment to study her through have lidded eyes. She truly was a vision. Maybe if he was anyone else she might see something good in him. Hell maybe then he would see something too. He longed for something about himself that did not make his insides turn. He was playing a part, being the person everyone expected him to be, and he hated it.

He could not admit that though, he was a Dugrey, Dugrey men never showed signs of weakness. At least his father would use that word. He however would use compassion.

He frowned at the very idea. He never told anyone this but so much of his life was spent wishing to be someone else, anyone else.

Glancing up she caught his eye, and smiled slightly. Placing her bookmark into its correct place, she closed her newest fascination with an obvious lack of enthusiasm.

Deftly spinning in her combination, she turned to him with a look of annoyance. "Stop."

"Stop what?"

"Starring at me, I can feel your eyes boring into me, and it's kind of creepy."

"Come on, you know you like it. Here, let me take those" he reached out taking the stack of books from her, as her other hand swung back towards her locker grabbing her bag from its hook.

"Thanks" she replied closing her locker and turning herself towards the exit.

Upon reaching the door, she frowned slightly, halting her movements.

"What, what's the matter?" He questioned, slightly worried.

Pushing the doors open, and holding it for him, he instantly seemed to understand, as the sound of rain pelting the pavement rang in his ears.

For some foreign reason, she reached out pulling his hand towards her, interlocking them as she stepped forward. "Let's make a run for it." With that, she was off. He had no choice but to follow. Not that he minded. He loved how willingly she had grabbed his hand. How sure and natural it seemed to come to her.

Reluctantly he dropped her hand and slid himself into the driver seat.

"I know I said I'd take you home, but would a detour kill you?"

"Probably not…but I might."

"What if the detour involved dry clothes…and Coffee?"

"Id say forget the clothes, just get me the coffee."

"Believe me, I have no problem forgetting clothes, I just figured we wouldn't rush it, but hey, whatever you want baby" He smirked salaciously towards her.

"Just drive towards the coffee, Bible Boy."

"Anything you want, Mary."

With a rev of his engine and a quick mirror check he was off.