Yeah, so I lied about the whole next-day update thing. I'm so sorry. Anway, here is the next part. Although it's a bit cliff-hangery.
Thanks for all the lovely feedback, I appreciate it so much. I'll respond individually to it soon.
And so it began: the reconnection of old lovers. Soft sighs and hesitant fluctuations. Awkward silences and sudden bursts of breath. They were getting to know each other again, through their sentences, through their voices. Through the things said and not said. It was as simple and as difficult as a phone call.
At the end of it, a date emerged, although they had both been careful not to call it that. What was it that Willow said? A coincidental arrangement. They were meeting by chance on purpose. Tara didn’t care as much about the naming of the thing as she did that everything would turn out okay. Since hanging up the phone she had slowly been working herself up into what was now a full-blown panic attack. About what to wear, about what they would say, about how she would behave. She had this terrible image in her head of walking up to Willow and Willow running away at her inadequacy.
It was ridiculous. She’d seen Willow not a day before. She’d held her in her arms. And yet, this felt like the first time. In a way, it was. Yesterday was the shock of reappearance. Today? Well today would be about discovery. She knew Willow was going to be there on a banner of truce and a chance for a rekindled friendship.
Tara? Tara was going for redemption. Redemption for her perceived harms against the tiny redhead. For the guilt that she felt toward her abandonment. And, if she were honest with herself, she was also going to see if something else was still alive. To see if, despite everything she put the other girl through, it was still possible to be loved.
She looked down at the pile of clothes on her bed and fought the urge to scream. Instead she walked toward the phone and dialed Jessica’s number, intent on getting her friend’s help through this ordeal.
Willow sat at the coffee shop nervously shaking her leg. She looked down at her empty cup of coffee and contemplated getting another cup. She had gotten their a little early. Well, about forty minutes. And now, after her second cup of coffee, she was also a little jittery. She tried to talk herself out of a third, but looking at the clock and seeing that she still had a good fifteen minutes left, she decided to go for broke.
After procuring the caffeinated beverage she once again set to the task of mentally preparing topics of conversation. She would let Tara dictate, she told herself firmly, but if any silences began to emerge she’d be ready. She had in her head a variety of things to discuss ranging from the lighthearted to the heavy. She didn’t know what kind of talk this was to be, if it was meant to be a full-on heart-to-heart wherein each witch talked in length about their experiences since they’d both been in Sunnydale or if it was more about testing the waters. Either way she was ready.
She was also nervous. She looked down at her hands and mentally gave them the lecture about behavior. They were not permitted to touch Tara, she told them firmly. They were not permitted to do anything that might endanger her tenuous position as Tara’s maybe-friend. She closed her eyes and gave them a firm talking-to as well. Reminding them that they were keep their gaze fixed to Tara’s face. Preferably her eyes. They were not to roam down her body nor were they allowed to fixate on her mouth or ears. They were to convey interest, yes. But not lechery. In fact, it might be prudent if they found a spot directly behind Tara to look at instead. One that was still within Tara’s line of sight, but one that could distract them from getting lost in the look of the other girl.
It was while trying to find the perfect spot that she saw her. Her breath hitched and she unconsciously licked her lips—damn, she forgot to talk to them. Tara looked…radiant. She looked beautiful, ethereal, and perfect. She clenched her hands on the coffee cup and prayed to whatever deity was listening to make her body and her emotions behave. To just let her get through this meeting without making Tara uncomfortable or herself embarrassed.
She took a deep breath and made to get out of her chair. The woman enfolding Tara in a hug made her stop mid-movement. She was attractive, about Tara’s age and, from the comfortable way that Tara hugged her back, the luckiest woman on earth.
Willow sat down with a flop, tears momentarily fighting to break free. She tried to push them back. If Tara was happy with that woman, then she was happy, she told herself, albeit non-convincingly. She looked down uninterestedly at her coffee cup, feeling the mending flesh of her heart tearing once more. It seemed that she had lost the battle for Tara’s renewed affections before she’d even begun.
She felt a hand on her arm and looked up with tear-filled eyes.
Tara stared back at her, her expression confused. “Willow? What’s wrong?”