Part 11

Two weeks later—after Angel had endured Hell for the sake of his manly pride—he had successfully dumped Darla. There had been crying and clinging and hateful (and ineffective) punching of the upper arms, but it was pure glory on his part. After all she had put him through—helping her mother puke onto the next door neighbours' vegetable patch, having to wait for her while she was paying her dues in detention, her insufferable conversation skills (and nauseating voice) and her numerous bad habits; too many to mention.

When he had gotten home that day, he was practically bouncing off the walls. Spike had looked at him like he had gone crazy—not that he minded. He was just happy to have finally completed his dare. He had never failed to complete a dare in his life and he wasn't about to start now. Not to mention his mother's pleasure on hearing the news.

During the two weeks, he had tried to stay as distant from Buffy as possible, always keeping at an arm's length with her. She'd also seemed to keep away from him, as if a little bump or accidental brushing of hands were the worst crime she could ever commit. He had even begun to wonder what kind of person she really was if she seemed to be so outgoing and not-shy in the public eye, but so...conserved and meek when you got to know her a bit more. Still, it had only been two weeks—two fairly short weeks at that.

Angel wanted nothing more to confront her with it, but was afraid it would seem too much like an interrogation or as if he were forcing her into something. That wasn't the kind of foot he wanted to get off with her. He just wasn't that kind of guy. He was one of the most popular guys at school, but he tried not to make a habit of being a "campus stud" as many liked to call it. Pfft, like the atmosphere could handle any more testosterone gun-slinging...

*****

A week after the glorious dumping of Darla was to be the first game of his team's season. They'd been training non-stop ever since the summer break and were psyched about finally being able to play a real game. The feeling rubbed off on all the newbies as well, even though they'd only been a part of the team for a few short weeks.

It was all ducky with Angel; the more of that good old "team spirit", the better.

"So, Angel, ready for tonight's game?" Cordelia asked out of nowhere. He had not even seen her approaching, his thoughts mellowing him into a trance-like state. He hadn't even had the chance to run. All his friends surrounded him, punching on the arm or laughing knowingly.

"As ready as I'll ever be. Besides, aren't we playing that really crappy team from two counties over?" Angel shrugged. To him, Cordelia was and had always been the so-called "village bicycle", just not in such a crude, Austin Powers kind of way.

"So...do you have anything planned afterward?" Cordelia asked hopefully. She'd been chasing him for, like, ever, but he never seemed to get the idea.

But in reality, he *did* know. And he was eager to shake it off. "Actually? I do have something. Sorry Cordy. I guess you're just gonna have to have fun without me," he said, trying not to let out the sarcasm imbedded deep in his need to get rid of the girl.

"Oh," Cordelia was disappointed. She knew he'd probably turn her down, but she had still hoped that...oh well. "Okay, well...I'll see you at the game then. Bye."

After she left, Angel let out a sigh of relief and laughed along with the guys on his team about what had transpired between himself and Cordelia. She was being made a mockery of, but frankly, Angel couldn't care less. He had thought she'd learnt her lesson when she had once tried to bully Faith, but he'd been wrong. Her persistence was driving him insane—not *quite* literally, fortunately.

Angel let his mind wander—as well as his eyes—finally settling on the one and only Miss Buffy Summers. The embodiment of the girl of his dreams (and the dreams of countless other young men...and hopefully not older men). It was unbearable for him to keep at a distance; at the moment he was only sure of two things about her—other than her name, age, address and all that other general stuff—1) she was a mystery, and 2) she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen OR met.

He also knew that she was nice, funny, smart, charming, amicable, pleasant, charismatic, and a whole long list of other adjectives that could easily have been part of his vocab study for his SAT's but currently couldn't think of. The only adjective he could think of was 'dubious', which he certainly couldn't use to describe Buffy. **Okay, then damn my 'dubious'...ness.**

He was also dubious about whether or not that black guy she was always around was really her boyfriend. Even his mother complained that always seemed to just *assume* things. Things like getting a baby brother (instead he got Spike, the ever-annoying stepbrother), having pizza for dinner (instead they went to Italy) and that he was in trouble every time he was sent to the principal's office (which was he actually usually right about). It was all part of the growing up process—he'd always assumed—and old habits die hard.

*****

After hard work and intensive practising, the cheerleading team had become the best they could be in the three weeks they had been preparing. With perseverance and the menace of Queen C, they had somehow put together a routine for halftime and had even gotten around to learning a few cheers off by heart.

Buffy had spilled her guts to her voice-trainer-slash-quasi-therapist about everything. Jenny had been rash as usual and suggested that she go for it and make the first move. Buffy had turned pale at the thought. She was an old-fashioned sort of girl who liked having doors opened for her, her chairs pulled out and being walked to her door, not to mention, waiting for the guy to make the first move. It might very well have had something to do with being assigned to reading too many Jane Austen novels by her tutor over the years.

When Jenny offered to visit more often, Buffy jumped at the chance to have her around. Although her friendship with Willow was becoming stronger by the day, she still felt that the red head was still a bit wigged out about her fame; like she expected to wake up at any moment or that she had regressed into a different mental state and had left behind her real world where she was in a coma. The girl *was* rather colourful, after all. She had jumped at the chance for Jenny to be around more often as a close friend, Buffy had an inkling that the stuffy and proper Giles had developed a thing for her 30-something and still lively voice trainer.

But right now she had more to worry about than a possible romance between her manager and voice trainer.

"What?" Buffy exclaimed. 'Shouted' would've been more precise, but there's no need to go into to details...

"Some, uh, information leaked out into the press recently," her mother said gently from the other end of the line. "Nothing to worry about though, honey, we'll set them straight as soon as we can."

"They know where I am," Buffy stated with a sigh. **Great, just great. Lemme guess who leaked. Could it be my good friend Jennifer? The one who stole my boyfriend in freshman year and returned some weeks ago with a lopsided case?** "Tell them I'm in Bermuda or something, I don't know. Do whatever you have to. This town is one in a million. I don't want to have to move." **Not when I still haven't taken up Jenny's advice. The other Jenny, I mean.**

"We're working on it, sweetie. Have fun at school. Say hello to Mr Giles for me," Joyce said pleasantly.

"Yeah, sure. Bye mom," Buffy said, hanging up her mobile. Sunnydale really was one in a million. Hearing all of Xander, Willow and Oz's tales of their brushes with fame, Buffy realised that THIS tiny town had had its fair share of Hollywood road-trippers.

Buffy had heard about Angel's break-up with his girlfriend. **What's her name again? Something that starts with 'D'?** Buffy had noticed the way he had been trying to avoid eye contact with her, but checked her out when he thought she didn't know. She should've been used to the attention, but it was...flattering, coming from him. There was no denying that she thought he was HOT. He still hadn't asked her for coffee or anything like that. She just hoped he wasn't being an ass and not realising that she liked him. A lot. She'd tried staying away because of his so-called girlfriend already, but what's-her-name was no longer an obstacle, leaving an opening for her to jump in and...**Make the first move?**

It was then and there that she decided that she would do exactly that—tonight—and ask him to the afterparty that was going to be held at the Bronze. Heck, if she didn't ask him soon, then she'd never get to. Not if she had to relocate. **I just *knew* Jen was up to something... If I ever see her again...well let's just say it won't be pretty.**

At that moment, she heard the faint beat of a song coming from the radio of the chauffeur's compartment. She pressed the button to lower the partition of black tinted glass between the two sections of the limo and asked him to turn the volume up in the back.

//I been living down the road
You've been up the street
I think it's about time
You come talking to me//

Buffy paused. **Okay. That's scary. Who's this song by and why does the lyrics sound so close to home? Scary, scary, scary as. Fuck!**

//I see the way you look at me
You see I don't mind
I know that you've been thinking about
The perfect opening line//

**Okay, shit me now. It's getting scarier and scarier. He lives on my street, across the road, he checks me out when he doesn't know that I know and I just *know* that there's something he wants to say. Hopefully, to ask me out.** Buffy smiled at the thought and concentrated on the rest of the lyrics. No such thing as coincidence and leprechauns, she always said whenever she had a similar experience, or whenever she had déjà vu.

//It's a shame you
Keep playing your game
I don't wanna wait no more//

**Damn straight. And that's why I'm going to stop being stupid and doing...whatever it is that my both crazy *and* insane mind convinced me to do a minute ago that included the words "make the first move".**

//You can be my hottie, hottie
Not just anybody, body
Everybody knows how the story goes
We can have a party, party
You, me, and nobody, body
Everybody knows how the story goes//

**Angel sure is hot. Hotter than hot. And I've seen a LOT of hot guys in my lifetime. I'm like a cat; lots of lives, lots of guys...not many dates, however.** Buffy listened until the end of the song for the name of the artist, that way she could borrow it, buy it, download it—anything to get her hands on a copy. She was a bit weird when it came to music; she liked anything and everything. Heck, she even liked classical music.

*****

Buffy breathed deeply and concentrated. It was crunch time. She was going to go over there along with Cordelia and talk to Angel. The game had been won easily, 40 to nothing, and had passed Buffy like a blink of the eye.

"...his name is Gunn," Buffy overheard Cordelia saying to Angel.

"Who's name is Gunn?" Buffy asked, joining into the conversation.

"Your hunk of a bodyguard, duh," Cordelia said none-too-pleasantly before stalking off and dragging Harmony away from a small pack of chatty, air-headed girls.

"Oh, yeah, that one," Buffy muttered under her breath as she watched Harmony give Cordy a mirror to check her hair and makeup in. **And I thought that girl would've carried a mirror in her undies if need be.**

"Okay..." Angel raised his eyebrows from the rather bracing experience of having talked to Cordelia. His gaze tracked the brunette across to the other side of the car park where a tall, dark, African American guy—**Oh God. That guy isn't Buffy's boyfriend.**

"What's up? You like you just saw a ghost," Buffy joked. "What is it?" She turned to see what it was that had held Angel's attention. Gunn flirting with Cordy. **Like that's an unfamiliar thing for Gunn to do. Why is he staring?**

"That guy—is he really your bodyguard?"

"Last time I checked," Buffy replied, puzzled as to why Angel would stare at Gunn for so long. **Oh God, scary thought. He's not gay, he can't be gay, Larry's already gay...oh God.** "Angel, your scaring me."

Angel turned his line of vision back to the familiar face of Buffy, finally realising what an idiot he'd been all this time. "I'm such a fucking idiot," he said, mouth still agape after having said it.

"You're not, uh, you're not gay are you?"

Angel snapped out of it at *that* comment. "What?! No way. All this time I thought he was your boyfriend, that's all."

"Oh." Buffy paused, "Oh..."

"Yeah, 'oh'," he nodded. "I was so attracted to you and I had to keep myself from telling you or letting anything on to anyone because I thought you were involved with him," Angell babbled. "I'm smart, aren't I?" He laughed at the sarcasm. "I can just see you saying 'why' right about now."

"Why?"

"I kept seeing you two together; him helping with your books, you kissing him on the cheek, the both of spending so much time together, and I saw you slow dancing once when I was coming over to your house to, well, actually I can't remember. Not to mention, he's a pretty good looking guy."

"Gunn? He's like my brother. So there's nothing to worry about in that department. If I'd known you thought he was my honey...well then we'd be at the Bronze already," Buffy hinted.

"That'd be nice," Angel smiled at the thought. He took one of her hands in his and said, "Be my date?" With a hopeful smile, of course.

"Of course," Buffy said, clasping the hand that held her own. "And now that I can slow dance, we can go to the Bronze...and, well, slow dance." At that moment, Buffy's mind chose to remember the lyrics to the bridge of the song. She'd downloaded it that afternoon and had been listening to it the whole time on repeat. It was strange how it just fitted so well.

//Finally you come talking to me
I want you in my life
You will see that
Once upon a time
Not long ago there was a guy
Who was a show
And now you realise
Don't wanna wait anymore//

**Okay, except for the 'other guy' stuff. The last time I had a proper boyfriend was absolutely *ages* ago. How sad is that? Oh well, now I have Angel as my date to the afterparty, I'm happy. Blissfully, actually.**

"You smell like sweat," Buffy said, wrinkling her nose. "In a very manly way."

"Thanks for telling me that. Now I have something else to puzzle over about women."

"Funny."

"I'm a funny guy."

**Woah, déjà vu.**

AN: The song is "Hottie" by Ashley Ballard.