The day hadn't been going particularly well for Rory as it was. She had been embarrassingly unprepared for a pop quiz on Spanish verbs; for the last two hours she had been calculating and recalculating her grade, and it appeared she might slip from her position as the top student in the class. During lunch, she had been reading in the library and lost track of time. She slipped into the back of her Physics class seconds after the bell rang, earning an overly dissatisfied scowl from the teacher and a self-assured smirk from Tristan.

Rory had never been more tempted to throw her book at Tristan's head.

So when the sixth period bell rang, Rory ran straight out to the field behind Chilton, not even bothering to stop by her locker first. Seventh was a free period that day, and she knew just how she wanted to spend it.

Just as she was settling down underneath a shady tree, a shadow came across the pages, as well as her face.

"I'm hurt. Honestly, I thought you could remember a simple thing like your best friend's birthday."

"Leave me alone, Tristan. I'm not in the mood for your crap today." She stood up haughtily, gathering her things and preparing to sit at the bus stop for the next hour.

"Mary, I'm not leaving until you give me a birthday kiss." Tristan said, stepping closer and grinning.

Rory angrily hoisted her backpack strap up on her shoulder. "God, Tristan." she exclaimed. "When are you going to get it through your large, ego-stroked, obviously imperceptible head that I want nothing more than for the stock market to crash and for you to crawl back into your hole?" A scowl had replaced her usually beautiful smile, the corners of her eyes crinkled in frustration and anger.

"Where I come from, money doesn't determine how much you like- or hate- someone, and second grade tactics are abandoned in the second grade. Get your head out of the sandbox, Tristan. I don't like you. Not that you've ever given me the chance to. From day one you've been out to make me miserable, and for God's sake, my name is Rory!"

She exhaled sharply, a strand of dark hair falling limply over her eyes. Tristan lived for this. Their daily banter, her long, coffee induced tirades. He liked seeing her cornered, fighting her battles with her mind. She was just another, more difficult conquest to be put on his long list of sexual accomplishments. Tristan figured she'd give in to his advances by the end of Junior year easily. But then again, he had also thought the battle would have been won long ago, back when they first met. One look at his carefully tousled hair and sparkling blue eyes, and Rory Gilmore'd be at his feet, right? Nearly a year later, they were still playing games.

So here he was, weeks into their Junior year, standing in front of Rory on the soccer field. Playing the game he had begun to hate. It all started with that kiss. Up until then, he had wanted nothing more than Rory's virginity, another trophy on his proverbial wall. The fight with Dean was out of pride; he couldn't have her be seen all cozy with some small-town bag boy while it was public knowledge he was in pursuit. It was humiliating. They should have been together and bitterly apart by then.

All the while, rumors had been circulating that Tristan DuGray had finally abandoned his ways and fallen for a girl. He had vehemently denied it; he was just taking his time with this one.

But sitting at that piano bench, ego stowed safely away, the two had seen a vulnerability in each other's eyes. He had kissed her before he even realized it. Seeing her run away in anguish had torn his heart into pieces. The kiss had been more than he had ever experienced. It was an old practice to keep his emotions on ice, frozen away from his relationships. He had been caught completely off guard by the moment's complete honesty and the sweetness of her kiss.

It was that night that Tristan realized everyone had been right all along- he was in love. It was the second time he had cried, the former beside his grandfather's hospital bed only months before. Ever since then, experiencing a want he had never known, a small smile would play on his lips every time she entered the room. A smile only for her, tinged with sadness and detachment.

Try as he might, he couldn't stop playing their game. Pride ran deep in his blood. Sometimes he just wanted to climb the fountain in front of Chilton and announce to the whole world that he wanted nothing more than to hold Rory Gilmore. But every time he opened his mouth, the old acidic Tristan would be back. He hated himself, his only solace being the spark in her eyes and the knowledge that Rory could never hate anyone, although he suspected he came close.

"So, where's my birthday kiss?" he repeated. "You know, seventeenth birthdays only come once. A year from now, you and I will have to practice some willpower. Don't want us doing anything illegal before you become of the legal age. Better get it all in before we have to wait." He stepped forward, eyes flickering down her body.

Rory bit back the many four-lettered words on her tongue. She and Lane had had many late night discussions about Tristan DuGray. Lane was convinced that he liked Rory, hiding his feelings under the guise of a relentless, oversexed prep school pinup boy. Rory thought he was an asshole. During the summer, it had taken three weeks, four days, seven hours, and twenty-two minutes to get Rory to admit Tristan was attractive. Only 15 minutes longer than Lane had thought. An additional three weeks later, Rory confessed she felt something when they had kissed. "But that doesn't change the fact that he's still an impossible, rude, and overall hateable person." Rory had argued.

"Hateable isn't even a word," Lane had pointed out.

"So?" Rory finished her sixth cup of coffee.

"You don't make up words for just anyone. It's there. You just have to find it. Push him a little. Show him you won't back down."

"Since when are you so wise in the ways of love, Dr. Ruth? Where do you get your wisdom from?"

"Glamour." Lane had said simply, smiling from behind her hot chocolate. She just hoped she was pushing Rory in the right direction.

Tristan's trademark smirk appeared, stepping closer to his target. "The sooner you kiss me, the sooner I'll leave you and The Grapes of Wrath alone. I swear, just one little kiss, and I'll leave you alone. Forever."

Rory tucked the hair behind her ear, thinking back to what Lane had said.

Before Tristan knew it, she had reached out and grabbed his tie, pulling him down towards her. Her lips met his, at first emotionless. She pulled harder, crushing their lips together, gradually easing into the kiss. Rory ran her tongue along Tristan's mouth, her backpack slipping off as her grip faltered, shoulders relaxing, pressing her body against his.

Tristan's finger trailed down her jaw, getting lost in her hair, cradling her head. Their mouths opened wider, deepening the kiss. Rory's hand fell from his tie, running it across his back, pulling him closer. Sooner than she would have liked, even though she refused to admit it, Rory remembered what the purpose of this endeavor was. She drew in one last breath of him, savoring his taste and the feel of him gently searching her mouth, then forcefully pushed him away. His eyes flew open; he blinked, speechless.

Rory bent down, picking up her backpack and trying to regain her composure, hoping she looked unaffected by the kiss.

"I hope you keep your promises." she said simply, walking off the field and towards the building, legs shaking beneath her.

Tristan continued to stand there in shock, attempting to process the last few minutes. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw something sitting in the grass where Rory had been only moments before. The Grapes of Wrath. He bent down and picked it up, holding it tightly against his chest and wondering exactly how things had changed so much in such a short time.

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