Chapter the Third: She Finds Me Charming
Tara left the school grounds in a haze. She even had a book opened in front of her, as was her usual method of traveling, but she wasn't even looking at it, or anything around her for that matter. In her mind's eye fluttered the delicate image of Willow, smiling and being a wonderful-type person, much more so than Tara had imagined when she read her books.
Ah, books. In reward for a good day's work, Tara decided that she had enough time before her meeting with Willow for a quick book buying run to her favorite bookstore.
Two blocks into downtown—Sunnydale was by no means a booming metropolis and one more step beyond would have meant she was beginning to walk out of downtown—Tara entered a nondescript office building. She entered the elevator and, after entering a code onto the floor number buttons, she slid a card into an extending drawer and the elevator descended into an area that definitely did not have a button.
The doors of the elevator opened into an obvious basement level room, which was filled to the brim with books. There seemed to be no particular order to the shelves, and the entire place held the distinct scent of must and old books. Tara began to smile the particular smile that meant she was in her element. Twitching her fingers in anticipation, she began her search for her next few days' worth of reading.
Towards the back, one particular book, for no apparent reason, caught Tara's attention. It was old, with brown leather binding, and the title was in German. Upon reading the title, Der Geist Hilft, Tara decided that maybe it was a good time to brush up on her German. In fact, the seven other languages she was able to read were all in desperate need of practice, so making up her mind to pick this book and others in German, Tara reached for it.
A hand touched hers on the way up. A woman with obviously fake blonde hair and glasses gave her a stern look, much like an angry librarian. Luckily, Tara had had a few run-ins with those—and of course, many more librarians of the nice variety—so she was unfazed in her determination.
"Um, sorry, I saw this book and…" Tara clutched at it suddenly, as if it were a grabbing race. The other woman looked at her as if she was crazy. Tara thought it best to play that card. "And I must buy it or the next person who owns it will eat my soul, so, um, bye!"
Turning on her heel and heading towards the front counter, Tara wondered where her imagination came from and whether she read too many books. 'Impossible!' she thought, and merrily continued on her way.
On the way to the front counter, which was actually little more than a plank separating her and the store owner, Tara managed to snag 7 books. She heaved her heavy burden onto the plank, and the owner, an old man with a constantly purring cat, didn't even turn around from his television viewing while saying, "$63.75."
Tara pulled her wallet from her voluminous jacket and found to her dismay a lone $20 bill. "Um…" she mumbled. The man raised one finger at her, and she frowned even deeper. The cat in his arms looked over the man's shoulder at her and blinked.
Sighing, Tara picked one book: Der Geist Hilft. She would have to wait for her next paycheck to keep all the others she had hunted and gathered. Getting her change, Tara then headed back out the door. Even before the elevator doors closed in on her, she was already reading the book and was engrossed.
The elevator's chime to remind her of their arrival on the first floor was only noticed enough for Tara to begin to float out of the elevator, her eyes glued to the text in front of her. The pages were yellowed, almost brown with age, and along the margins were little scribbles of letters and numbers that didn't make any sense. The book itself, Tara immediately noticed, was romantic, and she felt herself begin to blush as the words of love were uttered over and over.
Somehow—and indeed Tara didn't know how she always managed to get to where she needed to be without being run over or getting lost—she made it to the her apartment, and picked up Willow's book, her face still buried in the book. She then ended up at the Coffee Bean. She looked up at her surroundings, surprised, and checked her watch. She was a few minutes early still, and decided to sit at a table and wait for Willow. Seating herself distractedly, she locked her eyes on the book again and was lost.
Willow was running a little late. The literature club was holding a bake sale and for reasons unknown they insisted she remain for the entirety of the meeting. Willow had to resist the urge at every meeting to suggest something radical: actually reading or writing literature.
"Yeah, so we can open our books and have our noses stuck in books," said the president (her name was… Skankface? Her dorky outfit and glasses didn't fool Willow for a second). "Please, let's not be stereotypical." Willow would grumble and then sit back down on her couch. She didn't find anything wrong with books and enjoying them, despite what others thought. But then again, that's how she made her money.
Entering the Coffee Bean, Willow spied Ms. Maclay… Tara, rather, tucked away by the wall, her nose stuck in a book. Willow's mouth quirked into a smile. It was kind of cute; well, as cute as Willow thought she could get away with thinking of an older teacher. As Willow walked over, the substitute teacher's glasses fell down her nose, and were absently pushed up with one finger. Willow found herself entranced for no particular reason with the motion. Her feet managed to get her to Tara's table, only bumping into other tables and chairs a couple of times.
She sat herself across from Tara, looking at her with a smile. Tara didn't look up from her reading. Willow cleared her throat, and when that got no attention, slid her chair across the floor, making a screeching noise. Tara might as well have been deaf. Willow took her index finger and hooked it to the top of the book, pulling it down so that she and Tara could lock eyes over the top of the text.
Tara's eyes widened. "Oh, Willow, sorry!" She carefully put the book down, using a stray napkin as a bookmark. "I get kind of… um…" She was blushing and looked down at the table, looking up only once at Willow, which only caused her to blush deeper.
Willow smiled. "It's okay. I'm glad you like reading so much. Don't be shy about getting into it." She plucked a napkin from the dispenser on the table and began to fold it so to have something to do with her hands. "I appreciate, really," she said, looking up at Tara. "I'm a writer, after all."
Tara's blush faded, replaced by another brilliant smile. Willow had to blink first from the gaze. "So," the redhead began, "Want to get in line for coffee?"
"Sure," Tara replied, and together they walked to the line. Tara got a chai tea ("Coffee makes me wacky.") while Willow got herself a double-shot mocha ("Without coffee I'm wacky.")
Sitting again at the table, they weren't sure what to do next. Neither was sure whether this counted as a friendly meeting, or maybe a date, so the conversation level remained casual and neutral. They both felt, however, the inklings of a connection between two compatible minds, and after drinking their choice beverages, they began to loosen. As with any conversation with literature buffs, the subject of favorite author was broached.
"Historical or Contemporary?" Tara asked.
Willow thought for a moment. "Historical, I guess."
"Edith Wharton," Tara said without second thought.
Willow's jaw dropped. "For real?"
Tara bit her lip as if unsure. "I think so. I mean, that's the first author to come to mind." She looked at Willow. "How about you?"
Willow shrugged. "I'm still young; I've got a while to go before I can be sure. For now, at the risk of being stereotypical," and she smirked self-consciously, "I'd say Jane Austen."
Tara smiled reassuringly. "Jane Austen is totally a great choice. She's brilliant, really, for portraying the lifestyle of whomever she was writing about so realistically." Tara blushed. "Sorry, I could go on forever on the merits of great authors."
Willow shook her head. "No, that's fine. Please, babble on. You may not know this about me, but I happen to be the babble queen. You haven't seen it yet, but oh yes, the queen inside will reveal herself in time." Willow smiled deeper, spellbound by Tara's charmed smile. She finds me charming!
Willow was struck by a sudden, brilliant thought. "Would you like to see the new Pride and Prejudice movie with me?" She almost immediately regretted asking. Teachers would definitely not agree to seeing a movie with just one student, even if only platonically (which Willow found herself really hoping was not the case here). Backtracking, she said, "I mean, so we could compare notes on the interpretation and say how much it sucks because nothing could ever compare to the book of course or at the very least not to the Colin Firth version though that was a miniseries so it could go into detail while this is just a two hour movie but Kiera Knightley's in it and she kicks butt though not literally in this particular…" Willow thought she would die from asphyxiation because she couldn't stop babbling because Tara was staring at her.
"That sounds great," Tara interjected, saving Willow's life. She smiled gently. "When is a good time for you?"
Willow took a moment to catch her breath. I can't believe she said yes! Go me! "I'm free tonight," she replied.
Willow's heart stopped as Tara thought about it. "I'm free, too," Tara finally said. She pulled a pen out of one of the pockets of her huge brown leather jacket—Willow didn't notice it until just now: it was warm outside, how was she wearing a knee length coat?—and Tara then grabbed a napkin. She wrote on it, and then turned it to Willow, revealing a phone number. "Call me later tonight?" To Willow, Tara seemed to be slightly blushing, but it could have been her imagination. No doubt Tara thought of her as a cute kid or writer, and thought little of this.
Willow thought it best to give her an out, in case. "Sure thing. Plus, you'll have time to invite a friend if you want."
Tara's eyes widened. "Oh, I should invite a friend?"
Willow panicked. "I mean, if you have a friend you'd like to bring, I mean, that's okay."
Tara looked confused. "I wasn't going to… I mean, unless you have a friend…"
Willow's eyes widened and she held her hands in front of her emphatically. "Oh, no, I'm friendless!"
Tara nodded slowly. "Yeah. I mean, not that I don't have friends…" That was the truth, if the old man at the bookstore counted.
"Right, friends, I have those, too," Willow said, feeling absurdly goofy but at the same time she felt as if she and Tara had just communicated something. This was made especially certain by the way Tara was smiling goofily back her. Was Willow starting to really like her? Why did it seem as if light was playing about Tara's face? Oh crap, were angels going to sing now? Should Willow denounce her distaste for Romantic poetry?
Willow came to her senses and realized that the light was not of her own mind's making, but actually coming from behind her. Tara's eyes unfocused off of her as well and Willow turned around in her seat to see what was making the inside of the Coffee Bean light up like a disco.
Through the front of the store, which was made up completely of glass windows, was visible what appeared to be a prowling animal. And it was on fire. Willow's eyes widened as the animal, after pacing restlessly for about two seconds, seemed to look directly at her—it was a tiger, she realized—and without preamble, roared.
It was as if a bomb went off, and the glass at the front of the store exploded in, hurtling towards them as if chased by the thunderous roar. Willow froze, unable to move from shock. Tigers don't roar. Then the world went black as if a shade had been drawn in front of her eyes.
Author's Notes: I apologize for the time since the last chapter: I'm hurtling towards graduation (Bachelor of Arts? Me?) and thus I have to be productive in other aspects of my life. Crazy! Expect the next chapter within a week! Although, if you know how "college-time" works, a week can be stretched pretty far…