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It wasn’t right! Wasn’t fair. But then what in her life to this point had been? Fair was what happened to the Cordelia Chase’s of this world! Not to geeky little red heads whose only claim to fame was straight A’s in every subject—except gym—her entire school life.
So why was it that even though she knew this, it still hurt like hell everytime life felt the need to remind her of her lowly position in the general scheme of things?
She knew it was wrong of her to feel this way; to be jealous of her best friend. Wrong to wish nasty zits or evil bad hair days on someone she loved. But she couldn’t help it. When she saw them together she wanted to scream. Instead all she could do was sit quietly and smile; it wouldn’t do to step out of line, would it?
So here she sat, alone in the darkest corner of the Bronze, staring into a drink she hadn’t touched, rather than joining her friends at the movies. She’d had too much study to do. That had been her excuse, and of course they’d had no trouble buying it because she was nerdy, geeky Willow, after all. Study was expected of her.
She was broken from her reverie by a throat being quietly cleared, the soft, hesitant sound coming to her from the shadows. She turned as he stepped out of the darkness towards her.
“Angel,” she breathed, her heart racing as it always did at the sight of him. “Buffy’s not here. They went to the movies.” She could have kicked herself, less than two seconds in his company and here she was bringing Buffy’s name up.
“I’m not here to see Buffy.” His voice was quiet, barely above a whisper and yet the words rang in her ears like a clarion call. She watched in amazement as he offered his hand.“Would you like to dance? With me that is,” he finished unnecessarily.
His awkward shyness touched her heart, like calling to like, and she gently placed her own small hand on his proffered one.“I would love to, if… um, I mean…”
“Willow,” his voice cut through her mumblings. “It is you I want to be here with.” He deflected her unspoken fears and led her to the dance floor.
With her head resting trustingly on his chest, his arms wrapped securely around her tiny frame, her heart beating against him, the warmth of her body and the sweet, delicious scent of her filling his senses a slow smile stole across his face; he still had it. He still knew the right words to say, the right games to play! He returned his attention to the diminutive red head in his arms. “I know it’s wrong. That I shouldn’t be feeling this way,” he confessed quietly against her ear, sending small shivers of delight running through her exquisitely innocent body. “I’ve tried to fight it. I know Buffy is your friend. But it is you I want, Willow.” He gently tipped her chin until her eyes met his. “There has to be a way for us to be together,” he pleaded.
Her gentle, tentative touch against his cheek, the slight nod of her head signalling her agreement and the warm, musky scent of her arousal permeating the air combined to indicate his success. His eyes drifted closed, hiding the triumphant gleam as he gathered her close, swaying gently in time to the music.