Tara wasn't sure what these weird memory lapses were from, but she was now convinced that they were somehow tied to Willow. After her last afternoon class, as she was walking back to her dorm, she suddenly looked up and realized that she was in a coffee shop, with no recollection of entering it. Once she had gathered her bearings, she had made to leave, when who did she (literally) run into but the same person she had run into last time this had happened.
Still, despite the weirdness, she did get a thrill from seeing Willow again. And the redhead was still friendly and still sweet and still fun to talk to. So here she was again, defying her better instincts, standing in line as Willow tried to convince her to try one of the fancy polysyllabic coffee drinks advertised on the shop's extensive menu.
"Alright, alright, I give. I'll t-try one," she said through a laugh. The smile felt strange on her, almost too wide, too revealing. But it also felt great to laugh again, like some poison was leaving her body and some tension in her chest was loosening, letting her breathe easier. It had been weeks, maybe months since she had really laughed with someone. Especially without wondering if they were laughing at her rather than with her.
Willow clapped her hands in excited victory and gently pushed her forward towards the waiting cashier. When she ordered a small mocha, Willow beamed at her, which she was sure warmed her far more than the coffee ever would. As she fished the little money she had out of her wallet, she briefly worried that she would come up short, before she remembered the graffitied bill in her pocket. She handed it over to the cashier with a handful of coins. He put it in the register without really looking at it and, when she hesitated, pointed her to the side counter, where another customer was picking up his order. She nodded and took a few steps in that direction, peering behind the counter at all the strange grinding, gurgling, hissing, steaming machines the workers used as they made the complicated-sounding drinks. One barista measured something that wouldn't have looked out of place in a chemistry classroom, while another worked a blender in the background.
When she looked back at Willow, the redhead was getting a stack of change back from the cashier. She then skipped to Tara's side to wait with her.
"It'll be good, I promise," she vowed. Tara nodded, unconvinced. Willow made a face at her. "Really, if you hate it, I'll buy you a tea to apologize."
The idea of Willow buying her a drink held a sort of hope to it, even as she tried to convince herself to not get too hopeful.
"I'm s-sure it'll be fine."
"Yeah, but I don't want to be the one responsible for you buying something you hate, and then you just have this drink you hate and end up thinking 'Gee, Willow, thanks for pressuring me into spending good money on this thing I hate, which I didn't want in the first place, and told you I didn't want.' And then you end up hating me forever."
A small smile crept onto Tara's face as she followed Willow's elaborate train of logic.
"I, uh, d-don't think I would get quite that w-worked up over a small coffee," she reassured her. Willow gave her a wry smile, shaking her head.
"You'd be surprised. With the week I've been having, that's exactly the sort of thing that would happen." Her voice was clearly trying to stay casual, but the underlying bitterness was palpable, and the return of the sadness in her eyes suggested that she was still wrestling with some dark emotions.
"Rough week?" Tara asked softly, nudging her arm against Willow's in a small show of support. Willow sighed, nodding.
"The worst. And I've had some doozies before. But this is one for the record books." The pain in her eyes was becoming more and more obvious with each passing second, and without thinking, Tara reached out and put a hand on her arm, squeezing gently.
"I'm sorry," she said, with as much sympathy and sincerity as she could muster. Willow looked up at her and forced a sheepish smile.
"It's not like you have to feel bad about any of it. So far, meeting you has been the funnest part of the day. Or parts. Two parts."
"Thanks. It's… it's been my favorite, too."
The barista signaled that their drinks were ready, and they stepped forward to claim them. Tara noted with some amusement that Willow's cup was at least twice as big as her own. She brought hers to her face and inhaled the steam. It did smell chocolatey. And coffee always smelled good, even if she didn't like the taste.
"Should I w-wait for it to cool off a little? Before trying it?"
"Probably, unless you have a superhuman tongue," Willow said offhandedly, inadvertently making Tara's mind stray into dangerous territory. The blonde tried to hide a blush by bowing her head over the drink, under the guise of carefully prying off the lid. Willow, perhaps realizing the accidental innuendo, rushed into an amendment. "I mean, you could burn off all your taste buds and then you'll never know if you like mochas or not. And that would be a truly terrible end to this outing. A Shakespearean tragedy for the modern age."
"Right. Um…" Tara looked around. She felt a little awkward standing there holding an uncovered coffee cup, and her messenger bag was pulling heavily against her neck. "Do you want to s-sit down for awhile? To let it cool down?" It was a dangerous offer, because Willow could very easily say 'no' and leave her feeling stupid and rejected and—
"Sure. Wanna go outside?" Willow unknowing interrupted her pessimistic spiral. Tara nodded and followed her lead. Willow held the door for her and nodded towards one of the tables that was shaded by a tree. They settled there, and Tara set the uncovered cup on the table, waiting for it to cool.
"S-so why has your week been so t-terrible?" Tara asked, remembering the redhead's comments in the coffee shop. "Unless you'd... r-r-rather not talk about it."
Willow tilted her head slightly as she thought, and seemed like she was going to answer, but finally just shook her head. A deep, regretful frown dominated her face, and it looked out of place there.
"That's really sweet of you to ask, but... it's really complicated, actually. I mean, everybody says that, but it really is this time. Some of it would be really hard to explain. I don't even know where I'd start."
"You d-don't have to. Really," Tara rushed to clarify. "I just thought… s-sometimes venting about it helps."
"Thanks, I'm a big fan of the therapeutic rant. It's just… hard to put into words. Which usually isn't a problem for me. I mean, usually my problem is too many words. And not enough context. And kind of treating conversations like runaway trains."
Willow offered the small joke with a self-deprecating laugh, and Tara gave what she hoped was a reassuring smile.
"I, uh, g-guess I usually have the opposite problem. I spend whole conversations trying to get a word in edgewise, and the second I do, I f-forget what I was going to say and, well… usually end up saying something r-really dumb instead." She glanced down for a second, embarrassed, and when she looked back up, she spent a gratifying moment trying to read the redhead's expression. The shadow of the heartbreaking frown still remained, and Tara's heart gave a small twist at the sight.
"If it helps, I don't think anything you've said to me has been dumb at all," Willow said, offering a weak smile that valiantly fought against the sadder, more solemn expression that kept trying to break through.
"Great. M-maybe I'm making progress." Tara said encouragingly. "Is there… anything I can do to help?"
Willow seemed to rally her emotions through sheer force of will, shaking off the storm clouds. She shook her head at the question, but her smile already looked a little more genuine.
"You can try that mocha and tell me what you think. I'm dying to know." Willow was already drinking hers, so Tara assumed they must have cooled enough by now. She pulled her own cup closer and inhaled the steam. It smelled good. She raised a single eyebrow at Willow.
"You s-seem very invested in how this t-turns out," she observed, gingerly lifting the cup towards her lips.
"A girl's first mocha is a major life event. You're way overdue for the experience. I'm just glad I can be here to witness the occasion." As they joked, Willow's smile was losing its sad edge and was firming up around the edges, softening her expression into something more natural. Smiling back, Tara took a long sip of the drink… and immediately forced herself to not twist her face up against the taste. Willow had been right in that it was sweeter, more flavorful, and less bitter than normal coffee… but it was still coffee. But Willow's eyes were watching her expression, so she put the cup back down with a smile.
"You were right. It's really good," she lied. Willow's smile widened, which made it all worth it.