"Hello, Belle! I know how much you must have missed me, but your waiting is over!" Gaston announced cheerfully, striding into the little house and flopping down on the sofa. Belle was amazed at the way he immediately made himself at home, as though he owned the place. It must be nice to be that over-confident, she thought dryly.

"Good afternoon, Gaston," Belle said. "Do you want to hear the rest of that Hercules book now?"

"Sure," Gaston said. Belle got the book, then started to sit down in the chair.

"Here, sit with me," Gaston said, patting the sofa next to him. Belle looked at him suspiciously. He laughed at her expression. "It's all right, I don't bite."

"Well…all right." She sat down next to him and started to read where they'd left off the day before. She was pleased to see that he was listening, and clearly enjoying the stories. He even laughed at the tale of the Augean stables. Of course, it was crude humor - the idea of a mighty hero being faced with the daunting prospect of mountains of manure - which no doubt was why it appealed to Gaston's unsophisticated tastes. Still, at least it was a start.

She looked at him speculatively. He was so…so physical, his bulging biceps and muscular legs testament to the hours he spent each day hunting and hiking and lifting weights and horseback riding. There was a constant, restless energy about him; even sitting on her sofa, he wasn't lazy and relaxed. His was the repose of a tiger - ever watchful even while perfectly still, ready to spring at a moment's notice. His intense blue eyes were quick to flash with anger, or show merriment at a good joke, or most often, to display smug confidence and supreme self-satisfaction…but they never, ever revealed deep contemplation or philosophical reflection. He was like a magnificent animal - graceful and powerful, but shallow of mind, focused only on his immediate needs and desires. Was she insane, believing she could transform him into a reader and thinker?

But…he did like the Hercules stories. That much she knew. And the idea of a man who could learn to share her interests and love books just as she did was too tempting to pass up. Surely, if Gaston made an effort, he could become the man she wanted him to be…

"What?" Gaston asked, noticing her staring at him. Then a look of realization crossed his face, and he grinned knowingly. "Ah, you finally noticed how gorgeous I am!" He preened, flexing his muscles. "It's all right; you can stare as much as you want. Everyone else does. I know it must be a treat for you."

Belle shook her head. "No, it's not that." Seeing his offended frown, she added quickly, "I mean, of course you're handsome!" Gaston relaxed. Belle went on, "But I was just wondering…"

Gaston smiled to himself. Here it comes, he thought smugly. She was finally going to break down and admit that he was the most gorgeous man alive, that she'd tried to hide her overwhelming attraction to him all this time, but she just couldn't resist him any longer. She was wondering – hoping with all her heart - if there was a chance he might have feelings for her, too. Gaston's grin widened as he savored the anticipation of his long-awaited conquest.

"Go ahead, Belle," he asked innocently. "What were you wondering?"

Belle took a deep breath. "Well…seeing that you've been enjoying listening to the stories, I thought…maybe you could try reading one yourself."

"Well, Belle, I've always thought you were pretty…" Gaston began. Then the meaning of her words sunk in. He stared at her incredulously. "What?"

"I thought you could try reading," Belle repeated hopefully.

Although he was disappointed at the lack of a declaration of love, Gaston couldn't help bursting into laughter at the absurd suggestion. It had to be a joke. "Are you kidding?"

"No," she said, hurt. "I just thought…"

Not paying attention, Gaston was still chuckling. "Me, reading! That's a good one. You're funny, Belle."

"I wasn't joking," she said quietly, upset at his reaction.

"What?" He looked at her in confusion. "Oh, come on, Belle. You can't be serious!"

"Why not?" she said defensively. "You liked the book – you told me so."

"Well, sure, this book is good," he admitted. "It's not stuffy and boring like most books. I like hearing you read it to me. But asking me to read? That's going too far, Belle!" He shook his head in disgust. "God, I hate reading! I'd rather face a pit of poisonous snakes!"

"All right!" she said, stung. "You've made your point! Forget I said anything."

"Good," said Gaston, satisfied that she'd come to her senses and given up such a ridiculous notion. "Now, finish the story." He nodded at the book she held.

"Oh, never mind," said Belle. "I'm not really in the mood anymore." She got up to put the book away.

Gaston looked at her, exasperated. "Oh, for crying out loud…" he muttered, rolling his eyes.

"What?" said Belle.

"Fine - you want me to read, I'll read!" he said ungraciously, jumping up and grabbing the book out of her hands.

"Don't do me any favors!" she snapped.

He glared at her. "Look, Belle, I'm doing what you asked me to do!" he retorted. "So you should be…you should be…" He sputtered, trying to find the right words.

"I should be what?" Belle said challengingly. If he dared say anything condescending about how a woman was "supposed" to act…

"You should be nice about it!" he yelled. "I'm going to do something I hate, just to make you happy! You should say 'Thank you, Gaston!'"

Belle looked at him, and despite herself, couldn't suppress a giggle. In that moment, he seemed not like an irate man, but like a little boy whining "It's not fair!" Her anger faded. "Thank you, Gaston," she said, smiling in amusement.

He looked at her suspiciously. Was she making fun of him?

"Really," she assured him. "It is nice of you to do this for me. I appreciate it."

Mollified, he sat down again. "Good," he said. He looked at the book in his hands and sighed. "You really want me to do this?"

"Please," she said.

Reluctantly, he opened the book and stared intently at the words. But he didn't start reading. Belle was surprised to see that he looked hesitant and unsure of himself – an expression she had never seen on his face before. He was always so confident. He noticed her waiting for him to begin and said defensively, "I haven't done this in 10 years, you know."

She understood immediately. He wanted to impress her with his magnificence, but instead, he was being forced to do something that he was utterly incompetent at, and worse, something that she excelled at. He was afraid of making a fool of himself in front of her, and probably even worried that she would laugh at him.

She smiled reassuringly and put her hand on his. "You know, Gaston, most people who hadn't read a book in 10 years wouldn't even remember how," she lied. "They wouldn't even recognize the letters. So, I don't expect you to be able to read - I just want you to try, and I'll help you."

Emboldened by her words, and pleased by the touch of her hand on his, he looked at the book again. "I know the letters," he said, bragging.

She smiled encouragingly. "Good! That's very impressive."

He took a deep breath and plunged in. "Af…after…Her…Her…"

"Hercules," Belle supplied.

"Right. I knew that," Gaston said. "After Hercules re…re…returned…"

Belle watched him as he struggled through the page. She liked the fact that he was concentrating so hard, focusing on trying to get it right. She admired his determination, if not his literacy. In the past, his stubborn, bullheaded persistence had irritated her: it had made him continue to pursue her despite her blatant lack of interest, refusing to take no for an answer. But now, that very same trait was a major advantage, she thought. When Gaston set his mind on a goal, nothing could stand in his way. If he wanted to master reading, he would master it.

Her hopes began to soar. True, he was stumbling over the words now, but in a few months, maybe a year, he would be a proficient reader, sharing all her favorite books with her. She could hardly wait.

Watching him, she was also surprised to realize that he actually was handsome, when he wasn't wearing the egotistical smirk that had always marred his features in her eyes. Struggling so hard to do something he wasn't good at, he displayed an uncharacteristic vulnerability that appealed to her.

Finally he finished the page, and let out a huge breath of relief. "Whew! Thank God that's over." He looked at Belle. "I hope you're happy, because I am never doing that again."

She was startled. "Oh, no, Gaston!" she protested. "You did so well for your first time. You have to do it again! You can't give up now. You have to practice if you want to become good at it!"

"But I don't want to become good at it!" Gaston exploded. He stood up angrily. "Damn it, Belle, enough is enough!" He slammed the book down on the table.

"What do you mean?" she asked, bewildered by his outburst.

He paced the floor, shaking his head and ranting at her. "You know, Belle, all the other girls in town go out of their way to make me happy. I don't have to do a thing. I just smile at them, and they'll do anything I ask them to! But with you, it's different. I've been bending over backwards to make you happy. I bought you a book, I let you read to me, I even read out loud myself, even though I hate it! But it's never enough for you! Instead of being grateful, you keep wanting more and more!"

He stopped pacing and glared at her, his blue eyes flashing like lightning. "And now, you tell me I have to read more? I don't have to do anything, Belle. NO ONE tells Gaston what to do! Especially not a woman!"

Belle bristled at the "woman" comment, but before she could snap back at him, Gaston interrupted.

"What do you want from me, Belle? It's like you're trying to turn me into some kind of…of bookworm!"

His choice of words stopped her short. You're trying to turn me into…

He was right, she realized, startled. She was trying to turn him into something different: the kind of man she wanted, a reader and lover of books, a deep thinker. And it wasn't fair to him.

She remembered all the times Gaston had criticized her reading, telling her to act more like a woman – his idea of what a woman "should" be. She had resented it bitterly, wishing people would simply accept her for who she was, not try to make her change. But here she was, doing the exact same thing.

As much as she wanted a different kind of man, she couldn't force Gaston to be something he wasn't. It was disappointing, but it was the truth.

"You're right," she said quietly.

Gaston, who had just opened his mouth to rant some more, was thrown off by her words. "I am?"

She nodded. "Yes. I always hate it when people try to force me to conform to their preconceived notions of what's appropriate for a woman. But by forcing you to read, I was doing the same thing, trying to make you fit a certain ideal. It was hypocritical of me. I'm sorry."

Gaston had no clue what she was talking about. "Conform?" "Preconceived notions"? "Hypocritical"? It was like she was speaking a different language. But those last two words – those he understood, and he seized on them. "That's all right," he said, calming down. "Just don't do it again."

"I won't," she said, feeling dejected. It had been a silly dream. With her bubble burst, she felt lonelier than ever.

Sighing, she sat down on the couch. Gaston plopped down next to her, good-natured again since she had apologized. "So," he said cheerfully. "Do you want to finish that story now?"

She shook her head. "No, I'm kind of tired."

He looked at her in surprise, bewildered by the sudden change in her. She looked as though all the life and vitality had drained out of her in an instant.

He put his hand under her chin and tilted her head up, looking into her face. Were those tears in her eyes?

"Hey, cheer up," he said, concerned. "I'm not mad anymore." He hesitated, then added apologetically, "I shouldn't have yelled at you." He should have remembered that women were sensitive, emotional creatures, he thought.

"It's all right," she said. But her expression didn't change.

He frowned. "So what's wrong?" he persisted.

She sighed wearily. "It's too complicated to explain."

Gaston didn't know what to make of that. Belle was so hard to understand! They had been having a good time earlier. Then they'd gotten into the argument, but even when she was angry, she had been full of spirit, ready to snap right back at him. But now, when the argument was over and everything should be fine, suddenly she was quiet and sad.

He looked at her helplessly, not knowing how to bring her back to the happy, friendly Belle she was before.

Then he brightened as an idea came to him. A joke! Most of the ones he knew were risqué, so they wouldn't do. He tried to think of one that was inoffensive to a lady. "Belle," he said, to get her attention.

She looked up. "What?"

"What time is it when the clock strikes 13?" he asked.

She was puzzled. "I don't know."

"Time to get a new clock." In case she didn't get it, he added helpfully, "Because it means it's broken, see?"

She giggled despite herself. Gaston was pleased. "That's my girl! I knew I could cheer you up."

Belle smiled. "Thank you, Gaston," she said sincerely. He was certainly no intellectual, but he could be nice sometimes. She looked at him, reflecting. He was never going to be the man of her dreams; that was obvious. But…he could be a friend. And that was more than she'd had a few days ago.

The sound of footsteps made them both look up. Maurice had just come up the stairs. "Hello!" he said jovially.

"Hello, Papa," Belle said, standing up. "I'll go start dinner now." She looked at Gaston. "I'll see you tomorrow, all right?"

"Why don't you ask Gaston to stay for dinner?" Maurice suggested. He liked the fact that a young man was paying so much attention to Belle. He knew how lonely she had been since they had moved to the village a year earlier.

Belle was surprised. She hadn't thought of that. She looked at Gaston speculatively, hoping it wouldn't give him the wrong idea. Asking a young man to dinner with one's parents was often considered a sign that a betrothal was imminent. But since Maurice had extended the invitation, Belle couldn't rescind it without looking unbelievably rude. "Do you want to?" she asked awkwardly.

"Of course," Gaston replied immediately. He sat down at the table and watched Belle fussing about the kitchen, preparing the food. He pictured her in his own house, making dinner just like this, while six or seven little boys played at her feet. Perfect. Gaston smiled. Soon, very soon, that bright future would be theirs.

Maurice sat down across from Gaston. "So, Gaston, did you go hunting today?" Maurice asked conversationally.

"Naturally," replied Gaston. He launched into the hunting story he'd started to tell Belle earlier. Maurice listened with interest. Hmmm, maybe the old man isn't so bad after all, Gaston thought.

When Gaston got to the part about the 800-pound moose, Maurice looked intrigued. "It must be difficult to bring such a tremendous animal back to the village, isn't it?" he asked.

"Not for me," Gaston said with a shrug. "I just tie a rope around it and drag it back. The other men usually use a cart, though."

"I wonder…" pondered Maurice. "Perhaps it would be possible to invent a device that could lift a heavy animal like that easily and convey it back to one's home."

"You think so?" Gaston asked, interested. "It would come in handy, that's for certain."

"I'll have to think about that," Maurice said, inspired by the thought of a new invention.

As Belle brought the tray of food to the table, she smiled to see her father and Gaston talking. She had to admit, it was pleasant to have company. It occurred to her that her father might have been lonely over the past months, too.

After dinner, Belle walked Gaston to the door. "Come outside, Belle," Gaston said. "I want to tell you something." Curious, she stepped outside with him.

"What is it?" she asked.

"I have some good news for you," he announced importantly. "You know that the annual village dance is coming up. Well, I've decided to pick you to go with me!" He beamed, waiting for her to be overjoyed.

Belle was taken aback. "To the dance? Oh, Gaston…I don't know if that's such a good idea."

He frowned. "Why not?"

"Well, it's just…you know how this village is with gossip," Belle explained. "If we go to the dance together, people will think we're practically engaged."

Aren't we? Gaston thought, but didn't say it. He'd learned a lot about how to handle Belle over the past few days. She was as skittish as a deer. If he came on too strong, she bolted immediately. But if he was patient, and gentle, and didn't push, she warmed up to him and started to trust him. Eventually, he knew, she would admit her true feelings for him and agree to be his wife. But he reminded himself that to win her over, he had to take it slow.

So instead, he just pointed out, "Since when do you care what people think? Everyone always gossips about you walking around reading books, but it doesn't stop you from doing it."

She smiled sheepishly. "Well, that's true," she admitted.

"Come on," he urged. "It will be fun. Have you ever been to a dance before?"

"Well, no," she conceded.

"There you go!" Gaston said triumphantly. "You're the one who complained that the village is too dull, every day the same, and you want to try new and different things. Well, this dance is something new and different, isn't it?"

"Yes, it is," she said slowly, considering it. Maybe he was right. Maybe it would be fun. And it was something different, a break from the same old routine…

Gaston reached out and tweaked her ponytail. "You're so pretty, Belle. You should let everyone see it. Get dressed up, do your hair nice…you'll be the most beautiful girl there. You'll walk into the room, and they'll be stunned at how gorgeous you are. All the girls will be jealous of you." Because you'll be with me, he added mentally.

Belle blushed at the compliment. She'd never really thought much about her looks. She wasn't into vanity or fussing with her appearance – it seemed so shallow and pointless to her, a waste of time. But…just for one night…she had to admit it might be fun to dress up, like a princess in one of her fairy tales.

Gaston saw she was wavering, and grinned, knowing he had won. "So? What do you say?"

"Well…all right," she capitulated. "But Gaston…" She looked up at him, her voice serious. "This is important. I don't want to lead you on. If I go to the dance with you, it's just as a friend, all right? You need to know that. I don't want you to think it's more serious than it is. I like you, but that's all. Don't read anything else into it. Okay?"

"Of course, Belle," Gaston assured her. "Whatever you say." Typical Belle coyness, he thought. He was used to that by now. She always had to play hard to get. But he knew the truth. Two days ago, she wouldn't even have a conversation with him. But yesterday, she had enjoyed his company and voluntarily invited him back to her home the following day. And now, she was freely admitting that she liked him, and had agreed to go with him to the biggest social event of the year. At this rate, we'll be married by next week, he thought complacently.

Belle smiled. "In that case…I accept your invitation," she said. "And thanks for asking."

"No, thank you," Gaston said smoothly. He was tempted to kiss her hand, but held back. Slow and steady now…and soon she'll be mine forever, he reminded himself. He settled for a gentlemanly bow. "Au revoir, Belle," he said, and headed home in a fine mood. His plan was working perfectly. He was going to get exactly what he wanted, just as he always did.