She was very good. Impossibly good. She didn’t bug him, didn’t nag, didn’t hassle. Her patience was extraordinary. But finally she had to ask him.

 

If she’d known what he was going to say, she might not have said anything at all.

 

~*~*~*~

 

William jumped when his phone rang, and guiltily closed the game of computer solitaire. Which was ridiculous—even headmasters had the occasional slack period in the day. Very occasional, but still.

 

“Bloodsworth,” he said in greeting.

 

At the other end of the line, Buffy snickered.

 

“Hello sweetheart,” he said softly. “This is a surprise.” Usually he was the one who made the calls—although occasionally she called him, late at night.

 

Buffy hesitated. What was she supposed to say—that she’s waited for weeks to ask him if he had found a way for them to be together after she graduated, and finally broke down, but didn’t have enough guts to ask him in person? “I, uh, was wondering how you were doing on the—the us front.”

 

There was a long silence. “Baby, I’m trying but we—we may have to hold off for a year,” he said gently. “I’m still pursuing options, but at this point everything’s at sixes and sevens, and if things don’t work out…I have another year on my contract with Brighton. I’ve been trying to find a suitable replacement, but nobody seems to be available on such short notice—nobody appropriate, anyway. I may have to wait out my contract.”

 

“A whole year?”

 

“Yes, I’m sorry—”

 

“You’re sorry? What about me?”

 

“Buffy, I have a responsibility to Brighton—”

 

“What about your responsibility to me?” Buffy asked, hating the needy tone in her voice, but unable to stop herself.

 

William…laughed? “Baby, you’re not an obligation.”

 

“Well, I ha—”

 

“You’re a pleasure,” he purred, and she felt her insides melt. When he spoke again, his voice was somber. “Buffy, will you wait for me? I’ll visit you every break—come see you in Philadelphia whenever I can. Will you wait for me—wait until I’ve fulfilled my commitment to the school?”

 

Tears stung her eyes, but she forced them back. “Yeah,” she choked. “Always.”

 

~*~*~*~

 

Alone in his office, William stared at the phone with disgust. God, he really was a selfish, miserable puke. He didn’t deserve Buffy, didn’t deserve to be happy, didn’t deserve anything. How could he ask someone so young to wait for him? You’re asking her to wait a year, not a lifetime, his worse self whispered. She’s young and you’re tying her down, his conscience countered. If you don’t ask her to wait, this will be it, noted his bad side. His good side was silent.

 

It was unfortunate that where Buffy was concerned, his bad side always seemed to win.

 

~*~*~*~

 

“What does it mean when a guy asks you to wait?”

 

Cordelia and Willow looked up from the poster they were decorating at Willow’s behest. It was advertising a performance of her boyfriend’s band—since that’s what that quiet blue-haired boy Cordelia had set her up with now was, her boyfriend. Except that he had red hair now. And sometimes black. And blond. So at least one part of that stupid set-up hadn’t been a flop.

 

“Wait for what?” Willow asked, frowning.

 

Cordelia, of course, got right to the heart of the matter. “Sex? Because if he’s asking you to wait for sex, he plays for the other team. That simple.”

 

“What team? There are teams?” said Willow in surprise. “Wait, this isn’t that guy Angel, is it, the football player? I thought you didn’t like him.”

 

“I don’t like him and it’s not him and that’s not the team Cordelia means, anyway.”

 

“Oh. Oh! What—”

 

“I mean,” Buffy ploughed on, “what happens when a guy says he can’t commit to you right now and asks you to wait until he can?”

 

“It means he wants to keep you on the line until he gets something better lined up,” Cordelia answered succinctly.

 

For a moment Buffy stopped breathing. She doesn’t know what she’s talking about, Buffy reminded herself. She doesn’t even know Will—okay, she doesn’t know the real William. Not like I do. “There are extenuating circumstances,” she said carefully, reminding herself not to say too much.

 

“What kind of circumstances?”

 

Willow gasped. “Oh god, Buffy, he’s not married, is he?”

 

“No! No, nothing like that. More, um…job-related?”

 

“‘Um, job-related’?” mimicked Cordy skeptically. “You don’t sound real sure of that.”

 

“I’m sure! It’s just...well, I was wondering. Because maybe if, say, someone has a responsibility to their job, and someone else said something like, what about your responsibility to me?, then maybe—”

 

Cordelia looked appalled. “Oh my god, did you actually say that?”

 

Willow looked shocked as well. “Buffy, you didn’t—”

 

“It didn’t sound so pathetic in my mind,” Buffy said miserably.

 

~*~*~*~

 

She locked the her dorm room door behind her—thank god he’d gotten her a single—and hit the speed dial on her cell phone. It was that or run down to see him, and she might do something stupid like scream or cry if she did that.

 

“Bloodswor—”

 

“William, am I guilting you into this?”

 

A long pause. “I beg your pardon?”

 

“When we were talking and you said you had a responsibility to the school and I asked, well what about your responsibility to me, and, um…look, I’m not a charity case, okay? You don’t have to stay with me becaues I’m acting all loserish, I mean, we had some good times, right? It doesn’t have to be any more than that. And—”

 

“Actually, I’m just taking care of that now,” he said firmly. “I hadn’t brought it up earlier because I wanted to get things settled first, but I was always working towards it. There’s no need to worry about it—everything’s going to be fine.”

 

“Really? You’re not just humoring me?”

 

“That’s not the kind of thing I take lightly,” William reproved mildly. “I have to go now, but we’ll talk later.” By the time she said goodbye, he was already returning the receiver to its cradle. He could make up for that small sin later. He had larger ones to atone for at the moment.

 

“I apologize for the interruption,” he said formally. The older man didn’t seem to notice.

 

“You’re resigning?” Gordon Westbrook clarified, staring at the paper in his hands.He looked at William, his rheumy blue eyes piercing. It had been Gordon who’d persuaded his colleagues on the school’s board of trustees to take a chance on William. That he wasn’t too young to be headmaster, that he was mature, stable.

 

And now, looking at William’s letter of resignation, he had to be wondering if the board hadn’t been right all along.

 

“After the next school year is over,” agreed William. “I wanted to give you time to find a suitable replacement.”

 

“Of course,” said Gordon. “Of course….” He folded the letter and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “It’s quite a shock, and I can’t say I’m happy about this.”

 

“Some things are beyond my control,” William began. He’d been over his explanation so many times he could have recited it in his sleep. It wasn’t terribly persuasive, admittedly, but it was perfectly unimpeachable.

 

“Nothing is beyond your control, William—not if you really want it,” corrected Gordon sternly.

 

“If you say so.”

 

“Have you lined up another job?”

 

William faltered. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead. He actually had enough money that it wouldn’t be an issue for awhile, but he couldn’t imagine just doing nothing.

 

“Are you interested in becoming headmaster for another school?”

 

“No! No, I’m done with primary schools.” He didn’t think it would be good to reward a new employer by showing up with a former student of his in tow, and he was damned if he was forced to sneak around with Buffy like he was now.

 

“It’ll be difficult to get on at university without a doctorate,” pointed out Gordon.

 

William shook his head. “I think I’ve had it with teaching,” he said finally.

 

Gordon’s look was probing. “So what do you want to do, William?”

 

He thought about it for several moments before shrugging.

 

He hadn’t the faintest idea.

 

Chapter Twenty-Seven
Home