CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Riley.” Buffy smiled as they paused on the front verandah. She could hear the familiar music of morning cartoons, which meant Dawn was home instead of out with Janice, and the faint sound of salsa music meant that her Mom was doing the dishes in the kitchen. She knew that usually she’d invite Riley in, especially on a Saturday, but today she just couldn’t. She was tired, she had an exam on Tuesday to study for, and Riley was starting to annoy her. Kissing his cheek, she gave him a brief hug. “There’s a Scooby meeting after lunch and we’re going to be Bronzing after.”

Riley pulled her towards him, pressing a heavy kiss on her mouth. “You want me to pick you up?”

Buffy stepped back. “No, it’s okay. I think Mom wants some help at the gallery in the morning,” she lied, “I’ll just meet you at the Magic Box.”

“Alright, Buffy, I’ll see you then.” He tried to kiss her again, but Buffy turned her head, and he caught her cheek instead. He hesitated for a moment before smiling at her and heading for his car.

Buffy sighed, stretched and let herself into the house, managing to shut the front door loud enough to earn herself an annoyed look from Dawn and quiet enough that it didn’t attract her Mom’s attention. Heading up the stairs, Buffy headed straight for the bathroom.

She shut the door and quickly stripped off, turning the shower on as hot as she could stand before stepping under the spray. She moaned as the heat hit her skin, soaked her hair. She needed to relax.

Riley had taken her back to his place last night and there had been
hardly a can-I-get-you-anything before he’d led her to the bed. They’d had sex, he’d rolled off her and with a kiss on her cheek, fallen asleep, preventing any escape with a heavy arm over her stomach.

Usually, that wouldn’t worry her. She wasn’t really into meaningful talks after an orgasm. Not lately, anyway. But that was the problem. She hadn’t had one. Of course, not from Riley’s lack of trying. He’d come quickly and had continued pumping away on top of him until she’d given up and faked an orgasm.

Scrubbing the shampoo through her hair, she sighed. What the hell was going on with her lately? She loved Riley… so why wasn’t she responding to him anymore? Switching off the shower, she wrapped her towel around her and stepped out of the tub. Maybe she needed to try harder. She’d been blowing him off so much lately, maybe she just needed to work on it with him.

She padded down the hall to her room, closed the door behind her, and quickly got dressed in a pair of jeans and a blue peasant top. Toweling dry her hair, she stopped as her eyes caught the bed.

Another note.

The same as the last, it was folded once, with her name written in the same stylish, black font as was on the last one. Picking it up gingerly, she unfolded it, sitting as she read it.

“If I could write the beauty of your eyes,
And number all your graces,
The age to come would say ‘This poet lies,
Such heavenly touches
Ne’er touched earthly faces.’”

“…Huh.”
 


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“It’s Shakespeare.” Tara noted, handing the note back to Buffy. They sat together with Willow in the witch’s shared dorm, Buffy cross-legged on the bed.

“Okay, do you guys just sit there and read poetry to each other every night like some bad sit-com romance, or are you just really nerdy?” Buffy wondered, her eyes skimming the poem again.

“Bit of both,” Willow joked, rummaging through her wardrobe. “Tara, sweetie, have you seen my green sweater, the one with the embroidery?”

“Have you checked the laundry pile?” Tara responded. “I studied Classical Poetry last semester. Everything from Shakespeare to Wordsworth.”

“Impressive,” Buffy eye-rolled good naturedly, smiling at the Wiccan. She’d opened up so much over the last year or so. Buffy already trusted her, enough to tell her almost anything, just like Willow. Tara gave her one of those endearing half-smiles.

“It’s a sweet verse,” she offered, studying Buffy’s face.

“And you haven’t even asked me to spell-check it,” Willow noted with a pun.

Buffy shrugged, trying to keep it nonchalant. “I figured there was no need. I mean, if they wanted to hex something, why not the rose or the first poem?”

“Good point… A-HA!” Willow pulled her sweater out triumphantly. “Found it!”

“There’s a ketchup stain on the sleeve.” Buffy pointed out, and Willow’s triumphant expression crumbled.

“Darn.”

“What’s with the wardrobe-raid anyway?”

“Tara and I have a date tonight.” Willow explained proudly, as the other witch blushed.

“Oh.”

Tara glanced at the Slayer. “What’s wrong sweetie?”

“Well… that’s just the thing, isn’t it?” Buffy sighed. “Here are you and Willow, going on a date tonight, and Wills is already planning her outfit when it’s barely two-thirty.” Willow frowned guiltily. “I mean, Riley and I still go out, but there’s no… spark anymore. No excitement. It’s just like I’m going through the same old steps every time we go out…”

“Well, maybe the poems and roses are his way of trying to reconnect with you?”

“And not own up to it when I asked? No. Riley’s sweet, but… he’s not the poetry kind of guy. It’s not him.”

“So… what are you going to do?” Willow asked carefully.

Buffy paused. Did Willow mean about Riley and the disconnect she was feeling? Or was she talking about her feelings towards the secret admirer and his constant gifts? What was she going to do? She felt like everything was being thrown at her at once, that every possible problem she could be having at the moment, Riley, Glory, the secret admirer… all of it was pushing into her life at the same moment, demanding her attention and clouding her judgment, stopping her from passing any on any of the issues. She had no idea what was going on in her life.

“I don’t know.”