Note: This story is untitled and unfinished. I started this story about a year ago and wanted to post some of what I currently have to help get me back into the swing of writing. Will also attempt to have another update for CA very soon. Possible NC17 but it’s currently R for language.
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I pull my coat tighter around myself and listen as Xander rambles on about some girl he has been trying to sleep with… the poor idiot. Although his loyalty has kept him around longer than most others, it was times like these that I want to reach over and tape his mouth shut.
It is my second day back in town and we are on our way to some new club downtown. I was quite content to stay at home but alas the lure of scantily clad women burnt an interest in me that I haven’t felt in a long time. So, here I am, walking down Main Street, Gumby at my side, and dressed in a tight, red get-up. I sigh as the huge neon sign comes into view. Why are the signs always neon? The music isn’t loud enough, so you have to have a giant bug light to attract a crowd. Sorry if I sound a bit pessimistic, it’s just one of those nights.
So we pay our door fee and enter the dimly lit building. The thump-thump of the music starts to brighten my mood. Xander quickly becomes lost in the crowd as I make my way to the bar.
I order two shots. Gotta save one for later, you know. I down the first shot and swing around to lean back against the bar. The liquor burns down into my stomach and I suddenly feel a lot warmer. I take off my coat and lay it over the barstool… and then I see her. You knew it was coming, didn’t you? Four paragraphs in and I’ve already met the love of my life? No, it wasn’t like that. Well, not the love part anyway.
She is at the far end of the bar and she isn’t alone. A friend? A lover? Whoever she is, she is the least of my concerns. The redhead though, well, she is something of interest. How can I describe her? I see her wet her lips and take a drink. A vodka girl. She is hot. No, reverse that, she is fucking hot. A dozen obscene images float in my head. That is until Xander decides he is made of glass and blocks my view.
“Tara, where’d you disappear to?” Xander asks, not catching on when I don’t say a word. He keeps talking but my attention goes back to the redhead seated at the end of the bar.
I want her. Hey, a girl’s gotta have needs, right?
“Hello…Tara…anyone in there?” A buzz at my ear and Xander’s hand waving in front of my face makes me lose focus.
“Xander, aren’t you supposed to be buying some poor, attractive girl a drink?” I nod toward a brunette sitting alone behind him.
He looks over his shoulder to the woman I am pointing at and grins, “Oh, yeah.” I can almost see the bright light bulb atop his head. I shake my own head while he focuses all of his attention elsewhere. The power of women. With that said and done… my eyes are free to continue staring.
She must feel my eyes burning into her skin because she wipes her brow and begins looking around the room. Apparently, her little friend isn’t keeping her interest. What a shame.
Suddenly, the most ridiculous, and possibly useful, idea pops into my head.
“Xander,” I grab his arm and shoot him a glance when he jerks; “I think I’ve found the perfect girl for you.” I tell him, my eyes trained on the redhead.
He quickly follows my train of sight, “Who?” The eagerness in his voice makes the girl next to him frown.
Now I am normally not the type to need backup when it comes to women but if I am wrong about her, and I don’t think I am, Xander’s babbling would cover my embarrassment. “C’mon,” I start to pull him forward.
“Which one?” He asks as we get closer to the two women.
“Not the redhead,” I answer quietly but curtly. We’re closer and I release Xander’s sleeve, leaving the material in a crumpled mess. He doesn’t seem to notice or care. “Act cool.” Just as soon as I say the words, I regret them. Xander plasters the cheesiest grin on his face and begins to smooth back his hair.
Seeing this, I grab his arm again and stop us both before we get any closer. What the hell is wrong with me? Suddenly thinking that my plan is a complete disaster, I veer toward the bar, pulling Xander along.
“Uh,” he says and mumbles something that I can’t hear.
“We’re going to play it cool, okay?” I say and nod as if to convince myself. Xander is giving me this look… “What is that?”
“What is what?” He shrugs and motions the bartender.
“That?”
“What?” He shrugs again. “I’ve just never seen you like this before. Not even with that French girl last summer,” his smile irritates me more. Mind you, I’m not mad at him; just annoyed that he can see my anxiety.
Eager for a distraction, I gladly accept the drink Xander pushes in my direction and slump into a barstool. We sit in silence and sip our drinks. This wasn’t exactly what I had in mind when I was standing across the room, salivating, but a girl has to start somewhere.
I chance a glance toward the redhead. Her eyes are green. No, I’m not a psychic; she was looking in our direction. For a brief moment, those eyes bore into me. Not quite annoyed, but not completely enthrall either. Curious. Now imagine my embarrassment when I suddenly realize that my glass is empty and that I have been sucking on the rim.
This is definitely one of those times where I wish I had a devil on my shoulder to tell me what to do. I take coy glances in the redhead’s direction. If my brain is the deciding factor on whether or not I get up and go talk to her, I know I’ll be sitting in this stool all night. And that is something I have no intention of doing.
Without another thought, I make a beeline toward the end of the bar. I am almost giddy enough to click my heels when the blonde gets up and starts toward the bathroom.
She is twisting her straw around her in drink and obviously bored. And I don’t have a clue as to what to say to her. I mean, I’ll admit that I don’t have a problem with women but I’m not exactly smooth-operator material when it comes to getting the ball rolling.
I slide into a stool two seats down from her and motion for the bartender. I need something with vodka, not a lot but enough to calm the fluttering in my stomach. When I feel the straw from the drink poke my cheek, I know she is looking at me. The tiny piece of plastic finally finds my lips and I take a sip long enough for my eyes to meet hers. Exquisite.
“Hi,” I was not sure she had heard me mumble but she had.
“Hey,” she nods a greeting and continues to fiddle with her straw. My mind told me to keep up the conversation; otherwise, I would continue sipping my drink until Xander rescued me with some inane story.
“I’m Tara,” I extend my hand like we’ve just completed some business deal. The touch of her fingers is cool against my damp hand; moist from my glass.
“Will.” It was obviously a nickname because I wasn’t dumb enough to think she’d recently had some serious surgical adjustments. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“You too,” just keep the dialogue going, Tara. “Can I buy you a drink?” I count my lucky stars that her glass is actually empty now… and curse my timing when her blonde friend returns with two beers.
The blonde pours herself into a stool; her movement clearly shows the early signs of tomorrow morning’s hangover. “Thanks anyway,” Will says, reaching for the frosty bottle.
“Who’s your new friend?” Will’s friend asks. She gives me that sizing up look that women love to give other women, particularly when they are checking out their… lover? Friend?
“Tara, this is Buffy. Buffy, this is Tara. We’ve just met.” Buffy? ‘Yeah, she is so Xander’s type’ is my first thought.
“Nice to meet you,” I extend my hand yet again. Unlike Will’s, Buffy’s hand is a little rough below the fingers. Like the hands of those who don’t wear gloves when they work out.
“Likewise,” Buffy says, smiling. “So, are you here alone, Tara?” Here is a girl that does not like to waste time. “Do you come here a lot? How come I’ve never seen you around?”
“Buffy, this is not an interview,” Will smiles in apology, “I’m sorry; she talks a lot even when she hasn’t had a drink.” I watch as her eyes look behind and around me, “So, are you here alone?”
“No, I, um, I came with my friend. He’s around here somewhere,” I don’t bother to turn around to find out where, “And no, my first time.” Is that color I feel rising in my cheeks? I tell myself to get a grip.
“Are you from around here?” Will continues to probe.
Suddenly, I do feel like I am being interviewed. Mind you, I’m not complaining; I’ll answer just about anything to get the job. “I’ve been away for awhile,” is my only answer.
We keep the conversation going for close to an hour, discussing common interests and random chit-chat. I finally learn that her full name is Willow and that she and Buffy are undergrads at the University. I have yet to clearly determine the relationship between the two women and whether it is platonic or serious, so I keep my mouth shut about requesting a date. The last thing I need is: one, Willow to turn me down without a second thought and two, Buffy to kick me out on my ass before I can finish my drink. I had switched to water 20 minutes ago.
A dark shadow hangs over me and I know without turning that Xander has a huge smile on his face. “Hey, Tara,” he slips into the stool next to mine. I feel a twinge of guilt for forgetting he was here.
Introductions are made. I keep glancing at Willow as Xander starts the story about how we first met. My glances are partly because I cannot keep my eyes off of her and also because I hope of seeing something there that I know is clearly visible in my own eyes. What I will give to know what she is thinking.
Our eyes meet several times and hold. Fireworks? No, something hotter. I admit that my attraction to her is strongly sexual so why am I reminding myself that I never fall fast or hard.
My brain is in the middle of talking to itself when I look up and see a line of moisture make a path down her neck from behind her ear. I control my envy and finish my drink.
“We should be going,” Buffy’s voice causes us to blink and focus on our surroundings. Xander’s focus is on the band on stage and Buffy’s sleepiness is evident. I briefly wonder how much time has passed.
Willow blinks a few times and nods, “Yeah.” A blush creeps into her cheeks and I know that my face is just as warm. She and Buffy slowly rise from their chairs. “It was nice meeting you, Tara. And you too, Xander.”
I fumble for a way to ask her out when Xander, bless his little heart, asks what their plans are for tomorrow. We learn that there is a rally tomorrow at the university that they plan to attend. The first of many before winter classes start in a week.
“You’re welcome to come,” Willow says, “It’s not the biggest social event of the year, but the rallies are usually fun and very informative.” There is a silver glint in her eyes that shows her excitement and I cannot help but wonder how they look during other forms of emotion.
“Around two o’clock?” Buffy suggests as Xander and I start to follow them out. “I need enough time to sleep this off.”
She leans a little on Willow, who shakes her head and smiles, “You had two beers and a virgin Long Island… which is really just ice and tea.”
Five minutes after squeezing our way through the crowd and toward the exit, we say our ‘goodbyes’ and head in separate directions.
RC 
