“You mean funny ha-ha, or buried-his-predecessor-in-the-basement funny?” asked Cordelia, squinting at Buffy as she pushed the remnants of her dinner around her plate.

 

Buffy ground her teeth. “I mean more like, umm…funny as in really likes to spend time with young girls just a little too much,” she suggested.

 

To her chagrin, her roommate burst out laughing. “I wish—me and about half the girls here,” Cordelia giggled.

 

Buffy glared at her. What, did the girls around her just go around checking out the headmaster? Staring at his ass, giving him flirty looks? What a bunch of skanks! “So the students like him but he doesn’t like them?” Buffy specified impatiently.

 

Cordelia rolled her eyes. The new girl had seemed cool at first, but she was seeming kind of spastic now. “Yeah, that’s what I’m saying.”

 

Buffy opened her mouth to ask another question but noticed the skinny redhead from history class looking at her curiously from the next table. “What are you looking at?” she demanded shortly.

 

The girl shook her head so fast Buffy half-expected her nose to fly off. “N—n-nothing,” she stuttered, hurried rising and beating a hasty retreat.

 

Cordelia fixed her piercing brown eyes on Buffy. “Have you ever considered not being a bitch?” she asked dryly. “I mean, I understand the impulse, believe me, but that thing you do when you’re mean to harmless losers like Willow? It’s just kind of sad. For you, I mean.”

 

Buffy blinked at Cordelia in surprise. Mean? She wasn’t mean! She was blunt, sure, she came by that naturally; her grandmother was blunt, too, she never let anyone wear anything she didn’t like or do their hair some new way without putting in her two cents and basically making everyone understand that if you weren’t doing things her way you were doing things wrong and…well, now that she thought of it, maybe she was kind of mean.

 

“God,” Buffy muttered, rapidly beginning to feel like crap.

 

“She’s probably in the lounge studying, if you want to apologize,” hinted Cordy. She could be pretty blunt herself, but she tried to use her powers for good, not evil.

 

“Yeah, apologize,” echoed Buffy weakly.

 

She got up from the table and wandered towards the lounge, taking her time. Willow had to get her books and everything, and maybe she didn’t want to talk to Buffy. After all, Buffy had been pretty nasty and it would follow that Willow wouldn’t want to see her. In fact, Buffy would really be doing her a favor if she just left her alone, that would be best for everybody, and—

 

Coward, a voice at the back of her head hissed.

 

All right, all right, she thought, turning the corner to enter the dorm lounge.

 

There the redhead was, the only person in the room, seated at a window table with her face buried in a book. Like she was trying to hide.

 

Probably is, Buffy thought guiltily. Because of her.

 

She crossed the room and sat down with the other girl before she could lose her nerve. “Hi. I guess you’re wondering why I’m here,” she said with false cheer. The redhead looked at her with worried doe eyes and Buffy felt another completely unnecessary pang of guilt. “It’s just that it’s come to my attention that I’m a raging bitch and I kind of wanted to apologize.”

 

Willow shook her head. “It’s okay,” she mumbled.

 

Geez, that was a good way to make Buffy feel even worse. “No, it’s not,” Buffy admitted. “I guess I’ve been letting my inner bitch become my, you know, outer bitch a little too much lately.”

 

Willow gave her a tentative smile. After a moment she asked carefully, “You’re not upset about him, are you?”

 

Buffy looked at her in astonishment. For a moment she thought her heart stopped. “You—you know?” she gasped.

 

Willow clapped her hand over her mouth as if she couldn’t believe what she’d said. “I’m sorry!” she blurted out. “I didn’t mean to! I wasn’t spying on your or anything, I was just walked past and saw you going into his place, and I knew what that meant—”

 

“Oh my god, he does that regularly?” demanded Buffy in horror.

 

Willow looked upset that Buffy was taking it badly. “I don’t think most people realize it about him, but I kind of notice things,” she said. “I don’t think he’s the kind of man most people think he is.”

 

“What kind is he?”

 

“I think he’s kind of…dangerous. That’s why I went to Mr. Bloodsworth when I saw you go into his cottage, because I don’t think he was the kind of man you thought he was. I think he might be the kind of man who’d…hurt a girl. I’m really sorry,” she added pleadingly.

 

Was it possible to go limp with relief?

 

“Yeah, Riley’s a real jerk,” agreed Buffy wholeheartedly. The asshole had tried to make her blow him, and then he’d been responsible for her day of torture as a laborer. Jerk was too good a word for him, really.

 

Willow looked relieved that Buffy wasn’t angry with her.

 

“So I understand you’re a great at…all the subjects,” laughed Buffy, feeling inexplicably light-hearted.

 

Willow blushed. “I want to become a professor after college,” she admitted shyly.

 

“Maybe we can set up some study sessions, because school really isn’t my strong suit,” said Buffy. “I don’t know about you, but—” Abruptly Buffy broke off, rising out of her seat to peer out the window at the black car driving down the leafy campus road, going a too fast. “Who’s that?” she asked immediately. “That isn’t him, is it?”

 

“Him who?” said Willow, getting up to get a look. “Oh, that’s Mr. Bloodsworth’s car.”

 

“Where the hell was he?” demanded Buffy. She wasn’t even aware she’d said it aloud.

 

Willow looked at her curiously. “Well, he can leave campus whenever he wants,” she pointed out. “Maybe he had dinner with Miss Calendar.”

 

Miss Calendar? “Who’s that?” asked Buffy, trying to keep her voice calm.

 

“That’s his girlfriend,” giggled Willow. “At least, that’s what I think she is. My parents took me to dinner one time and they were in the same restaurant, and they were, you know…all cuddly-wuddly. Then we went over and said hi, and I don’t think he was very happy that one of his students saw him like that.”

 

“I’ll bet,” gritted Buffy.

 

Oh, that was it. What, was he just playing with her to pass the time until he could see his girlfriend again? “I’ve got to go,” she muttered to Willow as she pushed away from the table.

 

She hightailed it across the green and reached him right after he parked in front of the headmaster’s quarters, the nicest private house on campus.

 

“Not now, Miss Summers!” he bit out, stalking past her. He felt so tightly wound he thought he might explode, and he had a tendency to do insane things when he was around her. Crazy things. Mad.

 

Irresistible.

 

“Wait a minute!” she said, running to keep up with his long strides.

 

“You don’t want to push me, Miss Summers,” he warned her.

 

She refused to take no for an answer. “I want to talk to you,” she insisted, grabbing his arm.

 

That was it! He grabbed her shoulders in his powerful hands and pressed her back until she was flush against the wall, every pebble and cavity in the wall distinct against the flesh of her back. His hands opened and closed on her shoulders, squeezing and rubbing until she began to feel lightheaded.

 

Then he was bending towards her, bringing his beautiful face close to hers, touching the sharp point of his cheekbone to her jaw and moving it upward, rubbing and nuzzling against her. He breathed in deeply, his breath ruffling her hair back, and she realized he was sniffing her. Inhaling her scent. Like an animal.

 

God.

 

Her knees buckled, and he pushed her arm around behind her, supporting her. Guiding her. He nudged her legs apart with his knee and pushed in closer until he was pressed against her and she could feel strongly how she affected him. The same way he’d been since he’d dragged her across his lap that afternoon. Jenny couldn’t do anything about it, couldn’t do anything for him.

 

Buffy could.

 

Her head fell forward to rest in the hollow of his shoulder and a low, needy moan escaped her.

 

William nudged her head up and began brushing soft, whispery kisses over her face—her cheeks, her eyes, her temples. He was so tender she wanted to weep.

 

Finally he brushed his lips against hers. “Mine,” he whispered possessively.

 

He had no right to say that, no right to think it. She was a student, one of his charges.

 

He was past the point of caring.

 

Distantly he was aware of the sound of conversation, growing closer, closer, and knew he should release her. If he didn’t, they would be caught. It would mean the end of his career.

 

But he couldn’t stop.

 

“Buffy,” he groaned against her lips, slipping his tongue past her teeth. Her own reached out eagerly to touch his, snaking around it, drawing it in further. He memorized the feel and taste of her, her softness, her rhythmic panting against his mouth.

 

There it was again, the sound of voices. She heard it this time as well, reluctantly drawing back from him to look at him questioningly.

 

He returned her gaze steadily. “Do you care?” he asked huskily.

 

No. No, she didn’t. She shook her head.

 

“Neither do I,” he replied softly, and crushed her lips beneath his.

 

Chapter Eight
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