Sunnydale, California
Buffy chewed on her thumbnail as she stared at the brunette who’d captivated her attention for the last three weeks. She became suddenly aware of two things: her friends had stopped talking and three pairs of eyes were glued on her. She looked at them guiltily and a sheepish smile crossed her lips. She tried to ward off the pink that was rapidly threatening to stain her cheeks.
The trio followed her previous path of sight and several brows arched in astonishment. Xander seemed to be putting two and two together and a boyish frown stole over his features. The light bulb popped on in his head and he asked in a flabbergasted tone, much louder than she would have liked, “CORDELIA?!?”
Buffy shot daggers at him with her eyes and nearly growled, “Do you mind? I would like my personal life staying just that. Personal. I don’t want to advertise it.”
He cowed slightly and his eyes darted around nervously. There was no telling what this little brunette spitfire would do when she was pissed off. He’d already witnessed more than one guy getting a slap to the face after making a derogatory pass at her.
Her angry resolve melted a little when she saw his nervous stance. He looked like he was ready to run. She fought off a giggle and touched his arm gently. “Don’t worry, Xan. I’m not going to hit you. Just try and keep it on the DL in the future?” She pleaded with her eyes and he was eager to agree with her.
While he may have started a relationship with her friend Anya, it was clear to anyone that he still fancied her. She thought it was cute at times, and annoying at others. She’d made it abundantly clear to him that she was very, very gay.
Willow cut off any further interaction between them as she spoke up. “So, Buffy… if you’re done staring at the queen B-I-T-C-H, we could maybe make some plans for this weekend?” The redhead looked hopeful as she leaned further into Oz’s embrace. The guitarist had his arm wrapped around her in a rare public display of affection.
Buffy’s lips quirked up in amusement at her friend’s antics; it was just like Willow to spell out a bad word. She clasped her hands in front of her on the table and shrugged. “I’m game. What are you up for?”
It was quickly established that they would all meet at the Bronze on Friday at eight. Buffy wasn’t too excited about walking there, but her mother still wouldn’t let her anywhere near the car keys. She winced as she remembered the last time she’d driven. She’d nearly wrecked her mother’s brand new SUV, backing up toward a telephone pole when she meant to go forward. She now firmly believed that cars and Buffy were unmixy things.
Buffy chatted boredly on her cell phone as she perused rack after rack of designer clothes. She really wasn’t jonesing to be caught within a fifty-mile radius of Neiman Marcus, but her mother had adamantly insisted that she purchase at least two formal outfits; the gallery showings were coming up in less than a month and mother dearest had made it mandatory that she attend. Pure torture.
A familiar face entered the store and Buffy’s eyes widened cartoonishly. She whispered hurriedly into her phone, “Sorry, Anya, but I’ve got to go. Call you later.” She hung up and ducked behind a rack of clothes. “Shit.” She bit her lip and glanced through the clothes.
The last person she wanted to see her here was very likely to do just that. She weighed her options and figured the situation was grim either way. She could sacrifice her anti-prep reputation by making her presence known, or she could make a mad dash for the exit and hope she wasn’t seen. She groaned as she reluctantly made her decision.
She popped up from her hiding place and began thumbing through the clothes on display. She tried to appear as nonchalant as possible, knowing she wouldn’t have to go out of her way to start a conversation. As soon as the cheerleader saw her there was sure to be metaphorical fireworks.
No later had she thought it than she heard a surprised gasp to her left. She glanced up quickly and came eye-to-eye with the brunette she’d secretly been lusting after.
“Buffy?” Cordelia’s voice held a note of disbelief and she crossed her arms across her chest, momentarily diverting Buffy’s attention to the cleavage on display.
She caught herself quickly and asked in her best irritated tone, “Last I checked. Can I help you?”
Cordelia seemed at a loss for words and Buffy had to admit it was a glorious moment; normally the girl wouldn’t shut up unless you duck-taped her mouth. Finally she regained her composure and said snootily, “You’re just the last person I ever expected to see in here. What are you doing here anyway? I know you don’t wear these clothes.”
Buffy’s shoulders slumped in defeat and she sighed, resigned to telling the truth even though it would surely spread like wildfire. “You’re right, I don’t dress like this. In fact, I can’t stand preppy clothing.” She forced a tight smile and said, “My mother owns an art gallery. She expects me to get dolled up for the premiere showing at the end of the month.”
The cheerleader contemplated her statement before deciding to take it at face value. “Oh.” Buffy raised her brows and prepared herself to take another plunge into social disgrace.
“Would you, um… I mean… Could you help me? I have no idea what I’m doing here.”
To her credit, Cordelia didn’t laugh… much. She stopped after a short giggle and put her hand over her mouth, a slightly apologetic look on her face. Buffy didn’t know which action she should be more shocked by.
Choosing to ignore the brunette’s reaction all together, she turned her focus back to the clothes in front of her. She frowned as she sorted through the various garments, not finding anything she would be comfortable wearing. Everything was so… showy. The fabrics were all silky or lacy, intricate stitching making them more than Buffy could’ve afforded without her mother’s credit card.
She felt a gentle touch on her shoulder and she looked up sharply, surprised to find a genuine smile directed her way, and by her sort-of-nemesis no less. “I’ll help, but only because you look so pathetic and clueless.”
Buffy knew not to take the insult to heart, mostly because Cordelia was rude to everyone she didn’t consider “on her level”; so it wasn’t just her. She snorted derisively and replied, “Right. Well lead the way.” She waved her arm with a flourish, imitating every cheesy game show host in history.
Cordelia led her over to a display of short black dresses and her throat constricted in nervousness. She hated formal wear. Detested it even. She had a feeling she was going to be sick by the end of this.
“No. Absolutely not. I refuse to come out like this.”
Cordelia rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated huff. “Come on, Buffy. It can’t be that bad. I’m sure you look fine.”
As surprising as it was, they’d actually been civil with each other for almost an hour now. They’d bickered frequently over the clothes the cheerleader picked out, but they’d kept the insults to a minimum.
When she wasn’t leading her flock of sheep around Sunnydale High, Cordelia had actually proven to be a semi-decent person to be around. She still lacked in the ‘nice’ department, but it was vast improvement.
The sound of the dressing room curtain being pulled aside drew the brunette’s attention away from inspecting her manicured nails. Her jaw slacked a little and she was rendered temporarily speechless.
Buffy fidgeted uncomfortably and clenched her toes against the coarse department store carpet. She wrung her hands together and waited for Cordelia to say something… anything.
When she couldn’t take the silence anymore, she exhaled sharply and asked, a little more harshly than she intended, “What? Do you need to take a picture or something?”
That snapped the brunette out of her stupor and she glared. She pursed her lips thoughtfully then replied, “You look amazing, actually. I’m surprised.” She stood up, stretching slightly and abandoning the cushioned seat in the waiting area. She shouldered her purse and tossed a fake smile in Buffy’s direction.
“Well I should really be going now. I have shopping to do and I so can’t afford to be seen with you.” She turned and left swiftly, leaving Buffy stunned and a little miffed. Apparently the old Cordelia had already reemerged and jumped back on the ‘humiliate Buffy’ train.
She changed quickly into her regular clothes and took the dress to the check-out station. She knew her mother had said she wanted two different outfits, but there was no way she was spending another minute in this store.
Buffy was sufficiently surprised that no gossip had been spread about her the following day. No one looked at her any stranger than they usually did, and she didn’t hear any conspiratorial whispers behind her back. She was grateful that Cordelia had decided to keep her mouth shut, and to return the favor she didn’t say anything either.
Friday came in the blink of an eye and Buffy entered the Bronze wearing a red halter top and dangerously short shorts. Her hair flowed in loose chocolate waves around her shoulders and spilled down her bare back. Her make-up was lighter than usual with only a touch of lip gloss and a hint of eyeliner.
She met up with her friends at a table near the stage. Oz was already setting up with his band and Willow was staring like a smitten kitten. Buffy chatted idly with Xander after she realized the redhead wasn’t listening, but their conversation died off as the first chords of music filled the club.
Several songs later she excused herself from the table to get a drink. She was on her way to the bar when she spotted Cordelia heading toward the restroom. If you had asked her at that moment, she wouldn’t have been able to tell you what compelled her to follow the brunette. Some invisible force inside her tugged at her will and her feet moved of their own volition.
Just as she couldn’t explain why she’d followed the cheerleader, she also couldn’t explain how she’d ended up in a heavy make-out session with her. One minute she’d been standing by the door, waiting to talk to the brunette when she emerged, and the next she’d had the girl pressed up against the wall.
Her fingers eagerly wove through silky brown locks and she moaned. The taste of chocolate lip gloss caressed her tongue and she moved to deepen the kiss. Cordelia had stiffened immediately when Buffy had kissed her, but mere seconds passed before she was actively participating. She would later deny any such involvement, of course.
Buffy felt her entire body tingling as arousal flared fervently between her thighs. Her skin flushed pink and her skilled tongue twined with that of her prey. A whimper escaped her strawberry-coated lips and she broke away gasping for air.
Green eyes flew open to meet brown, filled with equal expressions of confusion and fear. Buffy released Cordelia and backed away a step, not sure what to say. She had no regrets or qualms about kissing the busty brunette, but she was sure the feeling wasn’t mutual.
Cordelia was the first to speak, albeit in a slightly breathless voice. “You can’t tell anyone about this. This was just… a mistake. I’m straight.”
Some of Buffy’s confidence returned and she closed the gap between them. “Yeah? So’s spaghetti until you heat it up.” She let out a low chuckle then pressed a firm kiss to the taller girl’s lips. In a flash she turned on her heel, throwing Cordelia a quick wink over her shoulder, and she left without giving her a chance to respond.
The weekend gave Buffy ample time to ponder her Friday night debacle. By Sunday evening she’d procured a new mission, one which probably wouldn’t be easy. She was determined to seduce Cordelia Chase.
She’d been driven nuts for weeks by the short skirts and the shampoo commercial hair. Now that she’d had a taste there was no going back. She was going after what she wanted, damn it.