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Chapter Six

William was thinking he really needed to think before he spoke. It was as if he didn't have any lease on his brain anymore. He just didn't want to part from her company, from her very presence. He'd thought about her all night, tossing and turning, dreaming of her. He felt like a schoolboy again, unable to wait to see his object of affection the next day.

Why don't you just have Angel pass her a note in the hall you bloody
wanker, he scolded himself.

And then, THEN he didn't even ASK her like a normal person, instead
it'd come out as this demand laced with desperation and fear of rejection.

Simply pathetic.

Now they sat across from each other and he was fighting the urge to
reach across the table and take her hand in his.

It'd be easy to dismiss if he could chalk it up to not having had sex in a
long time and just finding her attractive in a purely physical sense. If he
could chalk it up to just wanting to get laid, he'd be able to control himself so
much better. Especially since she was Hank's daughter and if Hank found
out, he'd have his head on a platter.

Not that he'd blame him.

Yet, it was not just purely physical with Buffy. It had started out that
way, yes, but now it was turning into something more. He enjoyed being in
her company. It was as if the world melted away when he was with her and
all he cared about was learning more about her, talking to her, getting her
thoughts and opinions on things. She was bright, vibrant, passionate, witty
and sweet. She had a dark side too, from what he could tell, and he wanted
to learn more. He wanted to crawl inside her head and learn every part of
her. And, of course, he wanted to know her body just as well. He wanted to
know if her lips were as soft as they looked and how they would feel under
his lips. He wanted to know if her body was firm or soft, he wanted to bury
his nose in her hair and smell her shampoo. When had he ever wanted to do
that with a woman?

Never, as far as he could remember.

He loved the way her nose wrinkled in disgust at something or the way her
eyes twinkled when she teased him. He loved watching her shift from
playful banter to serious conversation.

He felt free. Simply free. And it was all because of her.

Now he watched her as she gazed out at the dance floor, a wistful look on
beautiful face while she watched couple sway to the soft, melodious music.

"Would you like to dance, Buffy?" he asked huskily.

She jerked her head to him, blushing prettily and he felt hope take bloom.
Was she shy about dancing with him?

"I have two left feet," she told him.

He shook his head, dismissing the idea. "I doubt that. Come on," he stood
and held out his hand.

She looked fearful and doubtful and frowned slightly as she looked at his
hand.

"Please?" he asked.

"I could cripple you. I'm not much of a ‘slow dancer," she warned him and
slid her soft, warm hand in his. He wanted to close his eyes and savor just
that.

Straighten up, mate! He barked at himself. Then she smiled and all was
lost.

His heart was hammering in his chest at the thought of having her body
pressed against his filled him with bittersweet anticipation.

Hi, Buffy, maybe you didn't know, but I'm really seventeen bloody years
old, he chastised himself. And then he gathered her close and his mind
processed: soft, warm, Buffy.

Apparently, he was also turning caveman.

He cleared his throat nervously and when she placed her hand on his
shoulder and looked up at him, he smiled and relaxed. "Hi."

She smiled back, "Hi."

One arm around her waist and her hand in his, William felt bold enough to
lean in and sniff her shampoo. Fragrant and light and Buffy.

She stepped on his foot and he chuckled. She looked up at him, red-faced.
"I'm sorry. I warned you that might happen. Do you want to stop?" and she
started to pull away.

He held on tighter, "No, I don't want to stop, Buffy."

Their eyes locked and William was lost. "Buffy—"

"Did you see my father today at all?" she blurted out.

William blinked, switching gears in his mind, going from wanting to be
honest about his attraction to her to Hank. That was like cold water.

A cold reminder of the dangerous ground he was treading.

"I—No, I didn't."

She bit her lip and nodded.

"Buffy, can you tell me yet what's going on?"

Looking up at him, she studied him for a long moment before speaking.
"Can I trust you?"

He nodded, "Buffy, your secrets are safe with me. We're friends now,
yeah?"

She nodded and looked down, blushing again.

"Then you can tell me anything."

She looked back up at him, "I think my father is cheating on my mother."

He stared at her, disbelief being his first reaction. "What?"

She stopped and stepped away from him then. "Sorry, I just—I just don't
feel like dancing anymore."

"Ok, then we won't dance," he said gallantly and took her hand back in his.
"Instead, we'll go and talk," and he started for their table.

"Will—" she started and tugged on his hand.

"I want to help, Buffy, please let me," he said stopping and turning to her.

"Look, you don't have to get involved in this."

"Buffy, all I want to do is talk to you."

Sighing heavily, she nodded her consent.


******************************************************************
"So, tell me why you think your father is cheating on your mother," William implored after he'd shuttled them into what Buffy was beginning to think of as ‘their bookstore'. Which was funny considering this was only the second time they'd been there. It was funny how she was starting to latch on to each and every little thing they did. She supposed that's what happened when you had a crush—little things meant everything; words, gentle touches, romantic dances . . .

It also made you do stupid things when your feelings became intense and nerves took reign over reason. For example: Telling your father's best friend you believe he's having an affair.

Smooth move, Ex-lax, Buffy thought as she sipped her mocha iced latte.

William was waiting patiently, watching her and she felt as if she were being
examined under a microscope. She decided to resort to being a child. "Do I
hafta?" she asked on a slight whine. "Can we forget I said anything?"

He shook his head, "Fraid not. Cat's out of the bag, Buffy. It explains a lot
actually."

She looked at him warily, "Pray tell."

"The tight, fake smile you get whenever your father is mentioned, the tone
you take when talking about him, the worry you had over his whereabouts
last night and your watching your mother like a hawk the night I came over
for dinner. Not to mention the comments you made yesterday."

She stared at him, aghast. "You picked up on all that?"

He chuckled, "It wasn't that hard, Buffy."

God, if he could read her that well, then what else could he see? Her cheeks
flamed red. Blush number two hundred for the evening. All time record
folks. Briefly she wondered if The Guiness Book of World Records held a
spot for blushing profusely.

"It's awkward, William."

He titled his head to the side, studying her. He was waiting, a silent nudge.

"I just want to let you know that you suck," she told him resignedly.

He chuckled, "I know."

"The reason why I think my father is having an affair," she began as if
beginning a dissertation, "The clichéd reasons: Home late, no
communication going on between them—"

"You were away at school, Buffy. How can you know if there is no
communication going on?"

"Because my mother talks when she's drunk. Which was another reason.
She's been drinking more than usual lately. She polished off that whole
bottle of wine when you came over for dinner Will. My mother is not much
of a drinker. Well, she never used to be anyway. I noticed towards the end
of the semester that she'd been drinking a lot. And the story was always
the same: Dad was coming home late; Dad was out with a client." She took a
deep breath. "I came home to investigate, maybe put the kibosh on my
mother's drinking and to my father's possible extramarital activities." And
fat lot of help I've been to my poor mother. You say ‘jump' and I say ‘how
high William?'

"Does Hank know?"

"I think he suspects I suspect him. I think that's why he was less than
thrilled about me coming back home."

"Buffy, your father loves you—"

"Spare me. He loved the old Buffy that was his little puppet and did what
she was told and didn't ask questions. He loved that I had chosen to go into
the legal field."

"Don't you like the legal field?"

"I do, actually. But I think he avoids me now because he's afraid I'll start
cross-examining him."

"Do you know where they were last night?"

Buffy shook her head and fiddled with the napkin on the table. "They were
in bed by the time I got home and I was gone before my mom woke up and
my dad had already left for the office."

"I've been keeping you from doing your daughterly duties," Will observed,
sounding slightly—just slightly—guilty.

"Well, last night they were clearly not there," she said to assuage him.
Tonight though, she thought, who knows? I am powerless to resist you
William Madden.

"I wish I could be of more help, Buffy. If your father is having an affair, I
can honestly say I know nothing about it. I'm afraid I haven't been coming
around much lately, being busy on my own with work—"

"And watching crap TV?" she teased.

He grinned, "Exactly."

"It's not like you would think to do that, Will. You and my father are
friends, it's not like you'd think something like that about him."

William sighed. "I know. Do you want me to talk to him?"

"No!" Buffy said forcefully and then looked around, wondering just how
loud that was. People staring at her gave her the answer. "Don't talk to him
about it, please Will," she very nearly begged. "Just let me handle it okay?'

William frowned and nodded, "All right. I'll butt out. For now."

"No, for good."

"Buffy, if he is then it's part of my job as the best mate to tell him he's being
a colossal asshole—"

"By all means, let him know when he's told you or you've caught him. NOT
because I told you."

He sighed, "Fine."

"Thank you."

Silence for a beat, then, "Buffy, can I tell you something?"

"Sure."

"I'm glad you came home, no matter what the reason is."

Her pulse raced, her heart fluttered. "Thank you William."





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