Chapter Twenty-Eight
William came bursting through the door, without knocking, frantically waving a single piece of paper in the air. “They want to read it!” he shouted excitedly.
Looking up from their place on the couch, where they’d been enjoying a quiet evening of TV, Buffy and Rachel both stared at him in bemused shock.
“Huh?” Buffy finally asked.
“Remember the publisher we sent our partial to?”
She nodded, finally getting up off the couch. “With the first three chapters and the whole synopsis thingy? How could I forget? You were agonising over every word for a week.”
William was practically shaking with excitement. “Well it was worth every single minute because they want to read the full.” When she just looked at him blankly he almost burst. “They want to read the book, Buffy.”
A smile appeared on her face as she took in his words. “Wow. That means they might publish it, right?”
“Exactly.”
Catching up to his enthusiasm in little more than a heartbeat, she began to bounce excitedly, clapping her hands. “That’s fantastic.” Unable to contain herself, she launched herself at him, wrapping her legs around his waist as she hugged him eagerly. “I can’t believe it.”
Holding up the hand that wasn’t clutching the letter, William revealed a bottle. “I brought champers to celebrate.”
“Hell, Will,” Rachel exclaimed, taking the bottle from him and beginning to open it. “This calls for a party.”
Less than an hour later the living room was full to bursting as they were joined by Zac, Kate, Abby and Ben.
“Here’s to Will and Buff’s book,” Zac toasted loudly as they all held up their champagne glasses. “May the publisher not only buy the book but pay them oodles and oodles of cash so they can take us all to the Bahamas on a holiday.”
The group consensus of, “Here, here!” rang noisily through the room.
Buffy and William shared a kiss as their glasses clinked together. “Here’s to a bright future, pet. You and me.”
Smiling, Buffy laid her head on his shoulder with a happy sigh. “Sounds perfect.”
**********
Buffy was busy pouring chips into a bowl when Ben joined her in the kitchen. “Can I help?” he asked politely.
“Sure,” Buffy replied with a smile. “Just as soon as I finish this we can take everything into the living room.”
Nodding, Ben stood beside her a little awkwardly before adding, “Congratulations with your book.”
Buffy blushed. “Thanks. Though I still kind of consider it Will’s book. I still feel like I’m tagging along for the ride more than anything.”
“That’s not the way Will tells it. He says your imagination could rival anyone in the business.”
Not sure how to respond to that, she simply shrugged and changed the conversation. “How is your writing going? Will says you’re a really great writer.”
It was Ben’s turn to blush and he scratched his head in embarrassment. “I’m no where near as good as Will. But I’m improving, with the help of the group. I hope someday to be where you guys are now.”
Buffy smiled in what she hoped was a supportive manner. “Don’t worry. It’ll happen.” She marvelled at the fact that she was encouraging a fellow writer, who aspired to be like her no less, when she’d barely written a word of her and Will’s book. She was the storyteller. Will was the writer. But together they’d created a great book, so in the end she had to believe that was the important thing.
When she finally emerged from her own musings, it was to find Ben looking at her intently, an inquisitive twist to his lips. “Buffy can I ask you something?” His voice was quiet, obviously wanting to keep the question private.
Surprised by the question, and by the serious tone in his voice as he asked it, Buffy stopped what she was doing to look at him. “What would you like to know?”
“Are you Dawn?”
Her breathing stopped, even as her heart began to race. “Why would you think that?”
Ben stared self-consciously at his drink. “I just…I’ve noticed things. It’s the way you and Will talk when you’re discussing your book. It’s like he’s asking you if that’s the way things really happened, or sometimes you correct him and say things like ‘he didn’t say it like that, it was more like this’.” He looked at her; part confusion, part certainty. “It’s like you are Dawn somehow.”
Buffy swallowed heavily, wondering how this would affect her new life here. “Does anybody else know about this?”
Ben shook his head. “No. Nobody else has noticed I don’t think. It’s the whole writer thing,” he added. “We tend to take in more of what’s going on around us. You never know when you’ll stumble across your next story idea.”
“Right,” Buffy tried to force a smile. “I’m not Dawn, exactly. But I was the slayer.” She quickly gave Ben the same run-down she’d given Rachel, her anxiety growing with every word. This secret that she’d held for so many months, it wasn’t much of a secret anymore, and she worried how those she’d come to care about would treat her if they knew. Losing their friendship would be bad, but having them treat her differently, watching her to see if she’d do something crazy, would be so much worse. “So umm,” she stammered when she was finished, “what are you going to do now?”
“Do?” he asked in surprise. “Nothing. There’s nothing to do.” He was obviously trying to reassure her and she was grateful. “Buffy, don’t worry. If and when you decide to tell the others, they won’t think any less of you. You went through a really rough time and you came out the other side a stronger woman. There is honour in that.”
“Has anyone ever told you that you writers have quite a way with words?” she asked cheekily, grateful for his acceptance.
Ben smiled. “I hope so. I’m in the wrong profession if I don’t.”
They laughed together as they headed for the living room, bowls of snacks in hand.