Chapter Three
“You’re the luckiest bastard in the world, you know that?” Xander said, his fingers moving furiously over the X-box controller. “Ah, shit. I knew I shouldn’t have given you the rocket launcher.”
William cursed and hit pause, but couldn’t wipe the smile from his face. “And I get to go back this afternoon,” he said.
“She’ll probably be dressed in tiny shorts and a crop top,” Xander mused, leaning back against the foot of William’s bed, a dreamy look in his eyes. “Maybe she’ll be wearing high heels. She’ll bring you a glass of lemonade and say, ‘Oh, William! You’re so good at yard work!’”
“Mate, stop fantasising about me and Miss Summers,” William said. “It’s creepy.”
“Sorry, but Will, you’ve got an in with her! This is—this is serious.”
“I’m just helping her out,” William said defensively, suddenly grumpy.
“But—”
William pressed the pause button and the game started up again, gunfire and the sounds of war emanating from the television. “Your kill count’s a load of bollocks,” he said. “Let’s just worry about that for now, okay?”
***
William arrived at Buffy’s house feeling unaccountably nervous, more so than the day before. He’d replayed the events over and over in his mind, from the moment she’d walked half-dressed into the kitchen to the blush he was sure he’d seen on her face.
He knocked on the door, ran his hand through his hair, and waited for Buffy to answer.
She answered a few moments later, a bright smile on her face as she welcomed him into the house.
“Hi, William,” she said, and looked up to the sky. “You brought the sun with you.”
“Looks like,” William replied. He stepped into the house and shrugged out of his jacket, which he set down on the hall chair. “I’ll start with the lawn, seeing how I didn’t manage to get to it yesterday.”
“I’ve made a start on the weeding,” Buffy said, holding up slightly-muddy hands. With a frown, she added, “I’m not entirely sure that what I’ve been pulling out are weeds, though.”
William chuckled. “Dunno how much help I’ll be there. Not particularly green-fingered myself.”
“Come through.” She led the way down the hall and through the kitchen to the back door.
William looked at the cupboard he’d fixed the day before and was happy to see that it was still in place. He gulped when he noticed the jug of lemonade on the side, mentally cursing Xander’s overactive imagination, especially when he took in what Buffy was wearing. Denim cut-off shorts and a strappy vest-top. Not quite what his friend had predicted, but close enough. Damn him.
“I’ll let you get on with it then,” Buffy said. “Back to my weeding.” She punched the air, and continued sarcastically, “Yay!”
The yard was quite large, and there was a lot of lawn to mow. William pushed the machine up and down the grass, every so often casting glances over to Buffy, who was kneeling in the flowerbed, plucking weeds from the ground. Strands of her hair had fallen loose from her ponytail, and she had little smudges of dirt on her cheeks. William itched to go over and push her hair back, wipe the smudges from her face.
After an hour or so, Buffy stretched and stood up. She waved at William, and he switched the lawnmower off. “D’you want a drink?” she asked. “I’m going in to get myself one.”
“Yeah, thanks,” William said. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand and followed Buffy into the house.
“Lemonade okay?”
“Sure.” He watched her pour the drinks, thinking all the while that, in her shorts and tee, with her hair pulled back and minimal make-up on her face, she didn’t look at all like the teacher he knew she was. She looked young, and he found himself wondering just how old she was.
He had to have voiced the question out loud without realising; a surprised look crossed her face before she answered, “Twenty-seven. Why?”
“Uh, no reason,” William replied. “Just wondering.” He paused, debating whether to continue. “You look younger.”
“Thanks,” she said, smiling. She sat down at the kitchen table and gestured to the seat opposite her. “That’s what every woman wants to hear.”
William sat down, his hands making marks in the condensation forming on the outside of his lemonade glass. He stared at the cloudy drink, ice cubes bobbing on the surface, and thought about what she’d said. She was twenty-seven—ten years older than him. It wasn’t too big a difference, and it was something he was used to; his father was fourteen years older than Jenny.
He found himself wondering if the tentative beginnings of the friendship that had formed between them could be continued, if they could overcome the age difference and the fact that, up until now, she had been nothing more than his art teacher.
Taking a long drink of his lemonade, he looked across to Buffy, who was studying her drink with a similar level of intensity.
The silence should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t, and when they’d finished their drinks they went back outside with a grin and a smile to continue their work.
***
Those first few weeks of the summer passed in a blur, and whenever William looked back on them he remembered long, sultry days filled with hard-work, flirty banter, and Buffy.
She’d consumed every part of him, and when he wasn’t at her house working on her yard, her image filled his mind, and she crept up on his every thought and fantasy.
They had maintained their easy camaraderie, and it had slowly progressed from the initial hesitant attempts at conversation to a light-hearted flirtation, with lowered eyes and cocky smirks.
William had almost forgotten that she was a teacher and he her student, until Buffy brought it up one day when they were sitting out on the back patio.
“Is this weird?” she said, lifting her sunglasses up to rest on the top of her head so she could meet his eyes. “This… friendship, I mean.”
William shrugged and set down the sandwich he’d been eating. “Only if we make it weird,” he said. “It’s been good so far, right?”
Buffy nodded, a frown creasing her forehead. “Very good,” she replied, “but almost all the work is done now, Will. I—I enjoy your company, and… and—”
William knew what she wanted to say even if she couldn’t form the words properly. “—and you don’t want it to end,” he said, moving to sit at the edge of his chair. He badly wanted to take her hand, to stroke the soft skin of her palm and clasp her fingers within his own. He didn’t. “Without any work to do, there’s no reason for me to come round anymore. You’re my teacher, and there’s no way we can be… friends.”
“Right.” She nodded again.
“Sure there’s nothing else needs doing?” William said, grinning a little. “Could maybe paint an imaginary fence or mend an imaginary kitchen sink.”
Buffy smiled. “I think I’ve got an imaginary pool that needs cleaning,” she said, mouth twisting as she looked out over her back yard, no swimming pool in sight. “Well, we’re not done with the garage yet.”
“Maybe I’ll finally find that laziness we teenagers are known for,” William said. “Make it last as long as possible.” They both knew that his words held a double meaning.
“Yeah.” She smiled sadly and shrugged her shoulders, her gaze never leaving his.
In any other situation, William would have leaned across and brushed a soft kiss across her lips. Her eyes were telling him that she wanted just that, that she would welcome his lips, his touch, the solidness of him pressed against her.
Instead, he swallowed hard, willed away the images invading his mind, and let the moment pass.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
Thank you to my readers and reviewers! I'm sorry I haven't replied to the comments yet - I'm always too tired these days it seems. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter and many thanks to Sotia for beta-reading.
Chapter End Notes:
Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought by leaving a review. :)