"Bonjour, class! We have two new students today! This is Angel Cormac and Sven Jurgen," Mrs. Donnelly introduced. "They're part of our foreign exchange program and I want you to make them feel right at home here."
Sixth period is French for me, and usually I spend the entire fifty-two minutes contemplating the many ways to kill myself with a ball-point pen. But now that Angel is in my class, I suddenly have a newfound appreciation for those wacky French people and their many vowel sounds.
"Why don't you two gentlemen find somewhere to sit and we'll begin," Mrs. Donnelly instructed cheerily. "We have ten new vocabulary words for you to memorize today!"
Oh JOY!
If there's one thing I love, it's memorizing vocabulary words. That and uncurable flesh-eating diseases.
I waved subtly to Angel as he was making his way down the aisles, and he stopped at the desk next to mine. "Est-ce que cela vous dérange si je m'assieds ici?"
Um... what?
"Gezundheit?"
He set his bag down on the floor and slid into the desk in such a way that made me really, REALLY want to be a desk. And yes, I AM a giant freak, thank you for asking. "I just wanted to know if you minded if I sit here."
"Oh! See, I thought you were maybe choking on something, but that makes much more sense."
"Isn't this French 102?"
"Yes. And you would think that after two years of studying the language I might be able to understand some of it. But no. In America, everyone takes French but no one actually learns anything. And that's the beauty of it!" I explain.
"Vous ne parlez pas français du tout?" he asked.
"Oh, hey! I understood that!"
"... Really?"
"Nope."
Angel quirked the corner of his lips up and turned his head to look directly in my eyes. Nobody has EVER looked at me so intensely and I found myself staring back in such a daze that my eyes started to water from not blinking. He leaned forward ever so slightly and I thought for sure he was going to kiss me, but that's only because I'm pathetic and sad and am going to die a virgin.
But I won't be alone on my deathbed of chastity, because I'll have my sixty-seven cats there to wish me goodbye!
When I return to reality from 'Buffy is a Crazy-Person Land', Angel is still staring at me, and I'm about two seconds away from standing up and yelling at him to put his tongue in my mouth already.
My impulse is quelled, though, when he smiles suddenly and whispers, "Je pense que vous êtes belle."
... WHAT DOES THAT MEAN?
Did he make a joke about my poor French skills? Did he ask if I want to make out with him later? Or what if he said I've got something in my teeth? Oh God, I've got spinach in my teeth, don't I?!
Wait-- I didn't have any spinach today. Or ever. Because... ew. Who wants to eat that crap?
Gah. Why isn't there ever a convenient 'Hottie to English' translation manual lying around when you really need one?
"Alright, class. You need to open your textbooks to page fifty-four," Mrs. Donnelly interrupted. "I want you to read the dialog there to yourselves and pay special attention for the words 'cuisine', which means 'kitchen', and 'vite', which means 'quick' or 'fast'."
I shake myself out of my stupor and open up my textbook. I flip to the assigned page to find the same stupid 'where's the cheese?' dialog between the poorly-dressed cartoon French people that they've used for every vocabulary review since the beginning of TIME.
'Where IS the cheese?'.
'Where has the cheese GONE?'.
'Is the cheese in the kitchen?'.
'I have found the cheese! It is in my PANTS! Har har har!'.
Where is my ballpoint pen?
Where has my ballpoint pen GONE? Is my ballpoint pen in the kitchen?
Ah ha! I have found my ballpoint pen! And now I will STAB MYSELF TO DEATH
WITH IT.
"So, what did you think of your first day?"
Angel glanced up at me from where he was sitting on the stairs. "It was very decent, actually. I was a little nervous about coming here but everyone has been very friendly."
Yes, the legions of girls that want to lick you like a postage stamp certainly qualify as 'friendly'. "I thought you'd like it."
I was sitting behind him two steps up, and he turned his shoulders to look at me. "I wanted to tell you that I really appreciate what your family is doing for me. Having a complete stranger in your house... not many people would be willing to do that," he remarked. "And I'm sure you had better things to do than lead me around all day like a puppy. So... thank you. You've got a kind heart, Buffy."
It was so sweet, I wanted to cry. But I also felt sort of guilty, because I wasn't exactly dying with anticipation over having him here originally. Of course, my opinion changed when I actually MET him, but still. "Thanks," I managed to croak out.
"You're welcome."
"Um, so what do you want to do for the rest of the day?" I asked, changing the subject.
"I'm not sure. What's fun around here?"
"Fun? In Sunnydale? They must not have given you the brochure before you arrived," I said sarcastically.
"It's not THAT bad, is it?"
"It really is. We've got one club and there's a beach a few miles from town. And I think we have bingo on Thursday nights at the senior citizen's center. That's about it."
"Sounds pretty wild."
"On the crazy-bingo-excitment-index, I hear it rates pretty high."
"So that's it?"
"Well, we have a mall, too. It's kind of tiny, but they have a food court now. It's quite thrilling," I mutter. "And there's always the perennial 'Sunnydale Time-Wasting Favorite', which is walking around aimlessly and babbling to yourself."
"Sadly, that's probably more interesting than anything in Galway. We have fishing, which I hate, and also drinking yourself to an early grave. That second one is very popular."
"Then you must feel right at home here!" Suddenly, I'm struck with an ingenious plan and I have to fight the grin that's trying to split my face. "You know, I think there's a dance tomorrow..."
PLEASE take the bait! Please, please, please--
"What dance?"
YES!
"Oh, nothing special," I say casually. "It's just this stupid thing for cultural month where everyone dresses up in costumes and has a good time. Sounds like a major drag, huh?"
"It sounds more exciting than bingo, honestly."
I raise my eyebrows in a poor attempt at acting surprised. "You think so? Well, I guess we could go together. You know, if you really want to..."
"I'd like that," Angel says, offering me a small smile. "Thank you."
My God, I can't believe that actually WORKED! If I had known that tricking people into dating you was so fun and rewarding, I would have tried it years ago...
We both turned our gaze back to the street in front of us when my mother's dark green SUV pulled up to the curb. She leapt out of the driver's seat and jogged over to us looking alarmingly panicked. "I'm so sorry I'm late, you two! I got held up at the gallery but I drove as fast as I could and--"
"Mom, calm down! It's fine. Really."
"I know, honey, but I didn't want to be late picking you up on Angel's first day. It's not a good impression to make..."
"It's alright, Mrs. Summers," Angel assured her. "I don't think we even realized you were late."
And it's true. School's been out for over half an hour, but I've been having such a good time just sitting and talking to Angel that I didn't even notice.
Mom smiled warmly at him. "Well, nonetheless, I promise I won't be late picking you up again. At least not this week."
"That's comforting," I say teasingly.
She smiled at me patiently and gestured towards the car. "Let's just get you two home, okay? And I want to hear all about your first day, Angel."
We walked to the Jeep and I smiled at Angel's manners when he held the passenger door open for me. This is another thing that I really like about him. See, usually when you ask a guy what 'chivalry' is, he replies "Rarrhanrahaharahaharrrargr!" and then stares at your breasts.
"So what did you think of the school, Angel?" my Mom asked, glancing back at him in the rearview mirror. "Did you have any trouble making friends?"
Pfft. Because you know how hard it is for hot, beautiful men with charming accents to meet people...
"I thought it was great. You have a lot more freedom here than you do at my school. It's much less strict," he explained. "And your daughter introduced me to her friends Willow and Xander."
Mom smiled. "That's wonderful! Buffy, why don't you invite them over for dinner this weekend? We could rent a few videos and the four of you could spend some time together."
"That sounds great," I say, and mean it. It's just too bad that we have such a small couch and that trying to fit four people on it will necessitate squishing.
I mean, REALLY. Who wants to be completely pressed up against Angel? What with all that perfect, hard muscle and so much potential for rubbing? It sounds just AWFUL.
"Good. We'll plan on that, then," Mom replied, sending me a grateful smile. "Now, where do you guys want to go to dinner tonight? I just don't feel like cooking."
"Anywhere but Stuckie's," I blurt.
Stuckie's is one of those 50's theme restaurants, which really means 'no one under the age of 50 would be caught dead in here'. I highly recommend going for the 'great service', especially if you like being waited on by people wearing super-cool ankle bracelets given to them by their parole officers.
"Oh, Stuckie's wasn't THAT bad," Mom interjects.
"PLEASE. You could tell everyone just loved eating there from the sounds of sheer joy that were emanating through the bathroom door."
Mom shot me a look. "Okay, I admit the food was a little--"
"Disgusting and left to soak for days in it's own grease?"
"I was going to say 'fattening', but if you want to be over-dramatic about the whole thing..." Mom said flatly.
"Actually, would it be alright if we ate at the mall?" I ask nervously. "Angel and I decided to go to the dance tomorrow night and we need to get costumes. There's a store right near the food court, I think."
Mom is giving me her 'concerned mother look'. Which is never good. "Oh? You're going to the dance? Together?"
She has a way of saying 'You're going to the dance together?' in such a way that it sounds like 'You're going to become a single, teenage mother and then drop out of school and throw the rest of your life away?'.
"I understand if you don't feel comfortable letting your daughter attend a dance with someone you barely know--" Angel began from his place in the back seat.
"No," Mom interrupted him, surprising both of us. "You seem like a very nice young man, and I have no objections to you taking my daughter to a dance. I'm sure you two will have a wonderful time."
There's a minute of awkward silence and I pretend to smooth imaginary wrinkles from my skirt. Mom turns her head to look at me and asks, "Is this-- will this be a date?"
YES.
"No!" I bite my lip to keep from saying anything stupid. "It's just a 'We'd both like to go to the dance, so we're going together' thing."
Mom looks at me skeptically and I attempt an innocent look that says 'I'm not having pleasant, lusty thoughts about our live-in foreign exchange student! Really!'.
After a beat, a
strange, sly smile appears on her face. It's starting to creep me out, honestly.
"The mall it is, then!"
