❝JUST WANT TO HAVE FUN❞
▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹ chapter seventeen,
Gilmore Girls — Season One

December 8th, 2000

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

[ LUCY'S POV ]

I INTEND TO TELL MY DAD TODAY. After the successful date me and Tristan had a month ago, and the constant phone calls I have with him in secret, I knew I needed to come clean to my dad soon. He's started to notice the shift in my attitude, the smile on my face, and the odd skip in my step. He knows there's something going on with me but he hasn't asked, and I've not told.

I intended to tell him on my birthday— I didn't— but the intention was there, I promise. Nobody knew, other than Addy, that me and Tristan were, well, I don't know what we are, if I'm being completely honest. We've had one date, several conversations at Addy's dance classes, and one— two— perfect kisses.

I want to tell my dad. I promised I'd tell him if anything occurs between me and any guy, and now I'm currently lying. I feel horrible, and I want to tell him because tonight I'll be seeing him again, and on Sunday, I'm hoping to have a real second date with him.

However, as I sit across from my dad who is currently on the phone, I fear the worst in telling him the truth. Dad cannot, under any circumstances, know that a guy is involved in my life romantically. He'll kill him, kill me, then himself probably. I don't need that to happen.

Oh, God. I feel sick.

"Lucy?" I snap my head upwards, finding that he's moved away from the phone, and he holds a plate of food in his hand. "You okay?"

I nod, my throat dry as I can't, for some reason, say the word "yes" to my own dad. Dad just nods, obviously a little unsure if I'm sane, but he moves around the counter to present the plate of food to the woman who sits by the window.

Just tell him, Luce. Tell him.

No, I'm not telling him. I'm going to leave. Yes, I'm going to leave, go to Addy's and tell him later tonight... maybe tomorrow because I won't be home till late seeing as Addy's class will run late. It won't, but I'll make it.

I rise from my seat abruptly. "I'm going!" I declare, planting my hands on the counter, and Dad looks at me with concern. I don't blame him. "I'm going to Addy's. I love you."

"What time will you be home?" he asks, and I freeze for a good second, unsure on when I'll be home.

"Uh," I look to the clock, seeing that it's close to five and Addy is leaving at six. Nathan is coming this week, meaning I'll have to sit with him and Tristan. Lucky me, right? "I'll be home late. Addy has her class, you know?"

"Yes, I know, Luce." Of course he knows, he's been to Addy's classes a hundred times in the past. "Are you sure you're okay?"

I nod frantically. "Yes, I..." I suck in a sharp breath. "I'm great! I'll see you tonight."

I rush behind the counter, push a kiss to my dad's cheek, and then I rush out of the diner, leaving my very confused father behind. Soon, he'll understand my frantic and confusing behaviour, I'm sure, but until I tell him, I need to leave and see Addy. I need her assistance.

I open the door to Addy's house when I see that her mother's car isn't sitting outside. I only knock on the door when Ms. Sloane is in, and thankfully she isn't, so I barge in and call out for my best friend.

Addy comes barreling down the stairs, nearly tripping over her own feet as she finds me, panicked and sweating. "Oh, my God. Are you okay? What—"

"I can't tell my dad," I say, a hand against my chest as I try to catch my breath. "I can't tell my dad. It's been a month, Addy and I can't tell my dad. I have to tell my dad but I can't."

Addy's eyes widen. "You haven't told your dad?" She sounds surprised, probably because I've never lied to my dad before in my life. Hell, when I was a kid, I used to ground myself before he could.

"No, Adelaide, I haven't told my dad."

The thought of saying the words, "Dad, there's a guy I like" terrifies me more than anything else in the world right now. Thinking about his reaction, the way his face would shift, and the way he'd erupt... God, it's terrifying to imagine. A few months ago, I was telling him that there would be no guy until I'm old and grey, and now there's Tristan, and I really, really like him.

And he's been so patient with me, waiting for me to be ready, and I appreciate him so, so much, he has no idea.

If Dad finds out that I've been lying to him this past month, he'll be even disappointed. I just need to rip off the bandaid, even if it will sting, and come clean to him. For heaven's sake, he's my dad, I can tell him.

I had called Tristan on my birthday, and I even called him yesterday. He wants me to get my own cellphone, and I honestly can't agree more with him. I need my own cellphone, but asking my dad for one would then lead to the unpleasant conversation of Tristan.

I need to tell my dad.

"Honey, you've just gotta rip off the bandaid," Addy says, walking back up the stairs towards her room and I follow pursuit.

She moves towards her wardrobe where she pulls out her leotard and tights. I sit down on her chair, groaning in response while she yanks her dressing gown off. "I can't, Addy. You don't get it, he'll be furious with me. I've lied to him for the past month, and two months ago, I told him there was nobody."

"Well, circumstances change, Luce." Addy begins to pull her tights on, and I cross my legs on her seat. "You can't help who you like."

I nod. "I know. It's just scary."

"Believe me, I know." Addy chuckles, and I watch her pull the horribly tight material onto her body. "Don't you remember when I told my mom about Nathan? She grounded me for a month, and I wasn't allowed to set foot in the diner. It was like prison."

Oh, I remember. At first, I thought Ms. Sloane would move Addy out of school and never let her see anyone again. I thought she would die in her home, but thankfully, after a month, her mother calmed down and allowed the relationship to continue. Sure, she doesn't like Nathan— which isn't surprising— but she allows them to date.

Addy steps over to me. "Rip the bandaid off."

"I'll tell him tonight," I promise, and Addy nods.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

WE ARRIVE AT THE DANCE SCHOOL, and me and Nathan take our seats beside Tristan, far away from any parents. Me and Tristan said an awkward hello, and now I'm watching Addy while Nathan and Tristan discuss hockey and other sporting endeavours— something I am definitely not interested in.

As I sit and watch Addy dance around with the kids, I try to think a way to tell my dad tonight. I will be definitely telling dad tonight.

I should just be brutally honest. I should be informative and snappy, and whatever Dad says or does, I'll take it. If he grounds me, I'll understand, and if he approves, I won't really understand but I'll be happy.

I hear somebody clear their throat next to me, bringing me out of my head to look at the person next to me. "Hey, I have to show you something," Tristan whispers, and then he's on his feet.

I look over at Nathan who has his eyes glued to Addy, and I admire their relationship a ridiculous amount. He's crazy in love with her and the way she dances so elegantly with the kids. She's an admirable woman, and I wish I could stay and watch her but I really want to know what Tristan wants to show me.

I lift myself off the chair and follow after Tristan who heads towards the exit. He looks over his shoulder at me, a grin on his face as I continue to follow him down the hall.

     Just before we leave through the front door, Tristan steps back and he reaches his hand forward to gently cup my face, and he leans forward to press his lips to mine. The movement catches me off guard, but I reciprocate and I move my mouth against his.

     His lips move against mine with a gentle urgency, and he deepens the kiss. There was something about this kiss that was warm, electrifying and passionate, something more meaningful. We separate for a brief moment and I wish to speak but I'm entirely lost for words. A grin brightens Tristan's face and I barely draw in another breath before he's pulling me into him once again and crashing our mouths together.

     I'm still in shock, but the shock that makes my entire body feel like electricity. He's exciting in the way he kisses me and I'm afraid I'll get electrocuted. He kisses me with ferocity, with roughness, with a powerful passion, and I try to match his pace. The warmth in my stomach explodes, erupting into a volcanic sensation and my heart pounds in my chest with the same force.

     Tristan's hand curls around the back of my neck, holding me captive as he plunders my mouth. I subconsciously fist his shirt in my hand and draw him closer to me, desperate and aching for more. Our lips open and ravage at each other's mouths while Tristan's palms roam down my sides. They travel down before they stop at my waist. I press my hands against his chest and sigh softly.

     I pull back from the feeling of his hands squeezing my hips, and I'm completely out of breath. "Wow," I chuckle. "Is that what you wanted to show me?"

     He shrugs. "Part of it, I guess."

     I raise an eyebrow, and I allow him to slip his hand into mine so he can pull me out of the school. I follow him without any hesitation, and we walk towards his car.

     The sun has set, and the sky above us is dark. I see the beautiful starts illuminating the sky, and everything seems so peaceful, even when he removes his hand from mine to open the car door.

     I look to him, and he leans into the car to pick something off the passenger seat. He closes the door behind him, and he turns back to me with a bag in hand.

     My smile widens, and I look to the gift bag he has in his hands. "You bought me a present?"

     "Yes, I did." He places the bag into my hands.

"Tristan, you didn't have to—"

"Shush." He places a finger against my lips, and I scoff. "Open the gift."

I open the bag hesitantly, and I reach into the bag and pull out a book. "To Have and Have Not," I read the title, and then I look back to Tristan who grins proudly. "Ernest Hemingway." I flick through the pages quickly, and I notice the ink annotations inside. "You..."

"I annotated it for you," he says, shrugging like this isn't the sweetest thing one can do. "I know you mentioned you like Hemingway. I'm not sure if you've read this but..."

I shake my head. "I have," I say, and he sighs. "But this is quite possibly the sweetest somebody can do for me."

We smile at one another, and then I reach into my bag to pull out the next present. I lift it up and read, "Our Guilty Pleasure" scrawled on a mixtape in Tristan's squiggly handwriting.

I scoff, a grin on my lips. "Our Guilty Pleasure?" I question, and he hums.

"Mixtape of Billy Joel, Whitney Houston, Fleetwood Mac, Cyndi Lauper—" My guilty pleasures— "And then there's ABBA, Madonna, The Police, Prince—" His guilty pleasures.

     He chuckles, and I snatch the final present which is a small black box. I open it, and I find the most beautiful silver bracelet sitting in a bed of velvet. The bracelet is decorated in small blue gems, and my eyes quite literally sparkle. "Same colour of your eyes," Tristan says, and my cheeks brighten. Oh, he is something.

     I love jewellery as much as the next girl, but I've never seen something so beautiful in my entire life, and I've laid my eyes on a lot of jewellery.

     Tristan handles the bracelet carefully, reaching his fingers in to remove it from the box. I place the box back into the bag, and I hold my wrist out for him to meticulously place the jewel upon my wrist. I hold my breath, and I look at him as he joins the buckle of the bracelet, smiling as he finds the bracelet to be the perfect size.

     He holds my wrist, his fingers gently running across my skin, and his eyes move up to find me already looking back at him.

I step forward, and I push my lips to his. The bag dangles from my arm, and I place both my hands against his cheeks, deepening the kiss for a quick second before I pull back and sigh. Our foreheads rest together, and he runs his hands down my arms.

"Thank you," I whisper. "It's very sweet of you. This is the..." I shake my head, still in disbelief. "This is the nicest gift anyone has ever given me."

"You deserve it."

Is it bad for me to say that all this— whatever me and Tristan are— seems all too good to be true. "What's going on in that pretty head?" he asks, obviously noticing the shift.

"Things feel really good right now," I reply.

He chuckles awkwardly. "And that's a bad thing?"

I sigh, clasping my mouth shut for a second. "No, it's not." I shake my head. "It feels too good to be true, I guess. God, I don't know." Why am I still talking? "I'm sorry, I—"

"Hey, it's okay," he assures, placing his hands against my shoulders to steady me. "You're allowed to feel however you want, okay? Things between us are really good, I know, and we barely know each other but I feel like I've known you forever."

"I don't trust myself around you," I admit shamefully, and he reaches his hand up to brush his knuckles against my cheek. "I just... I haven't told my dad about you, just in case you want to leave or stop dating me, I guess. Nobody— and I mean nobody— has ever been interested in me. I just find it hard to believe sometimes that you do like me..."

I hate that my insecurities are impacting this perfect moment. I don't want to question this, or second guess our relationship— whatever it is— because I really do like him. I just can't believe that he likes me, I guess. He's been so attentive, so gentle and kind to me, and I've been making him wait because I'm insecure.

Tristan reaches for my hand, and I let him move his fingers across my knuckle. I look down at our intertwined hands, and the bag slides down my arm. I let it drop to the floor carefully as he takes my other hand, holding them both.

His touch is delicate enough to make my stomach ache in a strange way, and I find his eyes again. He's already smiling at me when I look to him, and his eyes shift from my eyes to my lips. I squeeze his hand, and I feel his thumb swipe across my knuckles.

I take one step forward, and we raise our intertwined hands carefully, allowing me to take another step forward.

Tristan is the one who leans down first, and his mouth finds mine. I grip onto his hands tightly in response to the eager kiss, and I try to respond with the same enthusiasm he does. He's kissing me, I'm kissing him, and he's signalling to me that I don't have to worry my head about anything. I don't have to worry about us.

I remove my hands from his, and I reach them up to cup his cheeks, deepening the already passionate kiss. Our mouths move carefully and freely, pushing and pressing for each other desperately. This kiss feels out of this world, like I'm trapped in a world that ceases to exist. It feels heavenly, extraordinary.

I pull away first, my head falling forward and hitting his shoulder. In the heat of the moment, we ended up leaning against his car, and we find our hands linked again.

     I look to the bracelet and I lean my body into his, allowing him to place his arm around my torso. "I really do like you, Luciana. I don't want you to ever think that I don't. You're more than capable of being appreciated, of being liked, of being loved, I promise."

     I look up at him, and my mouth tips up in a smile. "Yeah?"

     "Yes," he whispers, pushing his lips upon mine one final time.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

     I ARRIVE BACK AT HOME AFTER NATHAN DROPS ME OFF.

I'm ready to tell my dad. I'm prepared to come clean and tell my dad, and when I see that he's awake, I don't even hesitate. I won't back down.

He turns to look at me, and he smiles. "Hey, kid. You have a good time?"

I clutch the bag Tristan gave me in my hands, and I step forward to place it down on the table. Dad watches me sit down at the table across from him, and I clasp my hands together, my jacket sleeve riding up.

His eyes catch onto the bracelet that covers my wrist. "Who gave you that?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you about," I say, taking a deep breath, and Dad raises his eyebrow at me.

"Okay..." He leans forward, clasping his own hands together as he looks at me. "What's wrong?"

No hesitation. No backing down.

Rip the freaking bandaid off, Lucy.

"There's a boy," I announce, and Dad's eyes widen for a quick second but I continue to talk, "He's called Tristan. He's from Hartford and he goes to Chilton with Rory. Addy teaches his little sister every Friday at the classes, and we met in October..."

I clear my throat. "I didn't want to tell you about him until there was something. At first, we were just friendly, and then last month we went on a date and I..." I pause, a little afraid for what I now have to admit. "I lied to you and told you I was staying at Addy's. I'm sorry I lied, and if you want to ground me, you definitely can, but now I'm telling you..."

Dad remains emotionless, cold and expressionless, and I power through. "I really like him, okay? He's really nice and he bought me a present for my birthday. We've been talking on pay phones in town, and we talk every week at Addy's classes. He's a great guy, Dad, I promise."

Okay, I need Dad to speak soon. God, if he yells at me, I might feel a little better.

"I'm sorry I lied, and I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner but now I think that me and Tristan might be getting closer and..." I pause, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I really like him, Dad, and I'd like you to meet him."

Dad remains silent, and I stare at him as he looks from me to his hands that rest on the table. I shift in my seat uncomfortably, suddenly feeling warm and overwhelmed. This is a worse reaction to how I thought he would react. I expected yelling and disappointment, but now he's just silent, and it's terrifying.

I cough awkwardly. "Uh, Dad?"

He rises from his chair, and I watch him move across the floor. He's shaking his head, his lips sown together as he tries to process this. I think he's processing the information I told him, but I honestly don't know what he's doing.

     This is the worst reaction possible.

     "Dad, can you please just talk—"

     "I need to meet him," is what he says, and I clamp my mouth shut as Dad turns to face me. "There will be no more seeing him until I meet him. I don't care when, I don't care how, I need to meet him, okay?"

     I nod, keeping silent. "I don't care if there's a guy, Luciana, I care that you felt like you couldn't tell me."

     "I know, Dad, I'm—"

     "I know you're sorry, kid." He steps over to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. "But we tell each other everything, Luce. You used to ground yourself as a kid if you ever did anything wrong, and now you're lying to me?"

     I hate myself for lying to him. I used to tell my dad everything, and I mean everything. We're best friends first, father and daughter second, meaning we tell each other absolutely everything, and now I've lied to him.

     I stand up, and Dad squeezes my shoulder. "Look, you're getting older, and there's gonna be a guy eventually, right? Sure, this is faster than I would've liked but..." He pauses, shrugging. "You're a teenage, Luce, you're bound to fall in love a million times over."

     I scoff, shaking my head because I would rather not fall in love a million times over.

     "I'm not mad, okay?" I nod, smiling appreciatively. "Just tell me these things, kid, especially things like this. I want to know if there's a guy. I want to know when you go on dates. And I want to meet the guy, okay? I have to see if he's good enough to even be near you."

     I roll my eyes, and I step forward into my dad's arms. He wraps his arms around me, and I smile because this is the reaction I wanted. "He's good enough to be near me," I assure, and Dad pats my back.

     "I was hoping you'd fall in love with a prince or a..." He shrugs, and I look up at him. "I don't know, I just didn't expect you to be interested in a private school guy..."

"A prince is a little extravagant, Dad."

"I want the best possible for you," he says, and I hum softly.

"Thanks, Dad."

     "Anything else you gotta tell me?"

     "We kissed," I say, cringing the second I say it because he's my dad, and we still need boundaries. "Sorry, you just wanted me to mention it if I—"

     He shrugs it off. "It's fine," he assures. "But I really don't need every detail, okay?"

     I laugh. "Okay."

     I rest my head against my dad again. "I'm not upset but I'm not happy about the idea of my little girl dating someone. In my head, you're still eight years old, walking the town's dogs to raise some money."

I laugh again, and Dad ruffles my hair. "Yeah, I know, Dad."

     "Now, I've gotta meet him." Dad grimaces, and I chuckle, smacking my hand against his arm. "Any chance I'll scare him away and you'll never date again?"

     I pull myself away. "Hmm... Unlikely."

"Great," he utters.

"Also, I kinda need my own cellphone."

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

authors note:

tristan is sweet in this story, sue me x