Time After Time by Addie Logan

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Chapter 1

Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am home again
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am whole again

Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am young again
Whenever I'm alone with you
You make me feel like I am fun again

However far away
I will always love you
However long I stay
I will always love you
Whatever words I say
I will always love you
-- The Cure, “Love Song”

“I do like poetry. Professor Lillian’s class is actually my favorite this semester. It’s just… It’s Friday night.”

The other young woman in the dorm room repressed a grin at her roommate’s pitiful pout. Instead, she resolved herself to keep her stern expression, knowing her friend often needed a push when it came to putting her schoolwork above having fun. “I know, Buffy, but it’s only for a few hours. And when it’s over, we’ll go Bronzing, okay?” She let herself show a small smile. “Besides, extra credit – always of the good, right?”

Buffy sighed. Willow was right. Willow was usually right about these things. And she probably could use the extra credit, given the fact that she’d slept right through the last quiz they’d taken. “Fine, you win – but I’m not doing that reception thingy afterwards. I’ll sit through a poetry reading for extra credit, but I’m not spending my Friday night suffering through eating cheese and little sandwiches with a bunch of stuffy academic types.”

“Okay, no reception,” Willow agreed. “We’ll go straight from the reading to the Bronze.”

“Good.” Buffy picked up her purse and jacket from the edge of the bed. “And how long is this paper we have to write to actually get the extra credit supposed to be again?”

“Only two to five pages,” Willow replied. “And it’s just your thoughts on listening to the poetry being spoken aloud. It’s not like you’re going to have to be spending hours in the library.”

Buffy slipped her jacket on with a nod. She could do that. And it would negate that zero quiz grade she had. Granted, there were still the three other quiz grades, but if she studied hard enough for the final, she should still pass with at least a C. “All right. Let’s go then.”

The two girls walked out of the dormitory together, making the short trek to the lecture hall where the reading was being held. Buffy tried very hard not to sulk as they took their seats, especially when Willow insisted sitting right in the front row. She knew it was the redhead’s insidious scheme to keep her from dozing off or playing solitaire on her cell phone if this guy was totally boring – and one look at his name on the board outside the lecture hall made Buffy certain he would be.

William Pratt. Willow had told her the guy was British, and that coupled with his name brought up images of some old stogy guy in tweed with glasses. Maybe that was because the only British person she knew well wore tweed and glasses, but that wasn’t going to change her opinion. Instead, she leaned over and whispered to Willow, “What sort of name is William Pratt, anyway? Isn’t his last name, like, a British insult?”

“It’s spelled differently,” Willow whispered back. “And hey, that was Boris Karloff’s real name?”

“It was?”

“Yeah.”

Buffy shrugged and settled back into her seat. Now she was picturing the guy all green with bolts in his neck. And still wearing tweed. She giggled.

Willow turned towards her. “What?”

“Nothing,” Buffy replied, doubting Willow would appreciate the thought. She always went all uber-student at these sorts of things. Instead, she flopped back in her seat, forcing herself to keep still and not fidget. This was only supposed to last an hour. She could be still and pay attention for an hour. Even if it was Friday night and she really just wanted to be gyrating on a dance floor.

Buffy realized her mind had been wandering when a polite round of applause filled the lecture hall. She quickly joined in, only to stop suddenly, her hands hanging in mid-air, inches apart, when she saw the man approaching the podium.

There was no way he was William Pratt. That man was gorgeous. He had a slight but muscular build, with black jeans and a black t-shirt that looked positively painted on, allowing her to see every inch of his body. His light brown hair fell on his forehead in unruly curls, and his cheek bones were some of the sharpest, highest ones she’d ever seen on a man.

And his eyes… Suddenly, she was glad Willow had insisted they sit so close. From the back, she never would’ve been able to see his gorgeous blue eyes.

All she could manage to do was stare, her mouth gaping. If she’d been aware of anything other than the man standing only a few feet away, she might have noticed drool.

And then he did something that sealed her fate. He winked. At her.

There may have been people behind her, all around her, but Buffy knew without a doubt that wink was for her. Her heart fluttered in her chest as her pulse began to race. She could hardly remember the last time just looking at a man had this effect on her.

Until he started to speak, and it wasn’t his looks alone that had her mesmerized. His voice was full and rich, with the accent one no American co-ed could possibly resist. Buffy dropped her hands in her lap, fiddling with the strap of her purse as her eyes stayed locked on him. He thanked the crowd for coming, gave the short introductory spiel he normally did at these things, but Buffy was barely hearing the words. Instead, her eyes were locked on his mouth – the way his lips moved, the way his tongue periodically darted out to wet them. She’d never been so desperate in her life to find out what it was like to kiss someone.

Buffy didn’t start to pay attention to the actual words he was speaking until he started to read his poetry. His voice grew deeper, sensual, and the words he spoke seemed to wash over her, drawing her in until she was lost in them. She realized that while she had enjoyed reading poetry in the past, she wasn’t sure she ever would be able to again. The words lost so much simply sitting on the page. But when they were spoken…

She could feel the passion, the heartache, the yearning. He made it all seemed so raw, until it twisted in her gut. The rest of the lecture hall faded away, and for her it was only the two of them as she leaned forward in her seat, needing to be closer. He’d scan the crowd as he read, but his eyes kept coming back to her, locking with hers, and Buffy felt herself at a loss for breath.

The hour ended too quickly. As he stood and took a quick bow before giving the audience a short wave and leaving the stage, Buffy felt as if she’d just had something taken from her. She gasped, looking around wildly before she came to herself again, remembered where she was, and clapped with the rest of the audience.

“So, Bronze now?” Willow asked as the applause died down and they rose to their feet.

“Actually, um…” Buffy paused as she put her purse over her shoulder and draped her jacket over her arm. “I…um… I kinda wanted to stop by the reception thingy.”

Willow arched one eyebrow. “Sudden craving for cheese and tiny sandwiches?”

“No. It’s just…” Buffy blushed slightly. “He was really good. I…I want to say something to him.”

Suddenly, Willow got the picture and smirked. “You think he’s cute.”

“No!” Buffy sighed when she realized that wasn’t going to work at all. “Okay, maybe a little. But I do also think he’s a really good poet.”

“Buffy’s got a crush,” Willow said in a sing-song voice, snickering at the way it made her friend blush harder.

“Oh, shut it, you,” Buffy groused. “It’s not like I’m going to go in there and hit on him. I just… His poetry really moved me.”

Willow snickered. “I bet it did.”

Buffy smacked her roommate lightly on the arm. “Let’s just go to the reception, okay?”

Willow didn’t tease anymore, though she did sport a knowing smirk as they exited the lecture hall and walked down the hall towards the reception. Buffy would’ve protested a little more if Willow hadn’t been completely correct in her assessment.

As soon as they walked into the reception, Buffy spotted him. He was talking to one of the professors, nodding his head at whatever the man was saying, his arms crossed and a serious look on his face. Suddenly, Buffy wished she hadn’t come here at all. What could she possibly say to this man? Sure, he’d made eye contact with her when he was on the stage, but she was in the front row. And what if it hadn’t really all been directed at her? What if she’d just been so caught up in the moment that she’d imagined eye contact and The Wink?

He was an educated man who was probably a good bit older than her. Just because he was gorgeous didn’t mean he wouldn’t rather discuss Kant than pop music. The second she opened her mouth, he’d probably see her as some vapid, blonde California tart.

She turned and gripped Willow’s arm. “I changed my mind. Let’s go to the Bronze.”

“But I thought you wanted to…”

“It was a dumb idea,” Buffy said, cutting Willow off. “Let’s just go, okay? Please?”

Willow glanced between Buffy and William, but then decided to go along with her friend. “All right. Bronze it is.”

Buffy breathed a sigh of relief, though her heart clenched at the thought of just walking away from him. However, she knew that she’d probably get over whatever this was as soon as she was away from him. It was just her body’s reaction to being in the presence of an incredibly attractive male. It wasn’t like she was blowing a shot at actually hooking up with him, because the chances of that were non-existent anyway.

They’d almost made it out of the building when she heard heavy footsteps behind her moments before a strong hand gripped her arm.

Buffy turned, her eyes growing very wide as she found herself face to face with William Pratt. And he was touching her. His hand was on her. Oh, boy…

“You’re leaving already?” he asked, the naked disappointment in his voice telling Buffy that she did not actually imagine the massive amounts of eye contact from earlier.

Still, trying to talk with his hand on her arm wasn’t an easy task. “I was just… I mean, I…”

“I was leaving,” Willow said quickly, speaking up beside Buffy. “I have…someplace to be. But Buffy was totally staying. Weren’t you, Buffy?”

Buffy wasn’t sure if she wanted to smack Willow or give her a huge hug. “Um, yeah. I was staying.”

William smiled at her and let her arm go, though Buffy was sure she felt him stroke her there before he did. “Well, Buffy, I’m glad to hear that.”

Buffy didn’t think her name had ever sounded as good as it did when he said it.

“I’ll see you back at the dorm later,” Willow said softly to her friend before leaving them both with a small wave.

“Uh huh. Bye, Wills,” Buffy replied, though her focus wasn’t on Willow at all. It was on the man in front of her, inches away from her. Had she actually fallen asleep in the reading after all? Was she really still in the lecture hall, listening to some man who better fit the name Pratt drone on?

William thrust his hands in his pockets and tilted his head in a way that Buffy instantly decided was the most adorable thing she’d ever seen a man do. “I sort of have to stick around this thing for a bit, but when it’s over, do you want to go get a drink?”

“I’m only eighteen. I can’t drink,” Buffy blurted out before mentally kicking herself for being the biggest idiot in the world. Why had she said that? Since when was she this much of a moron around men? Now he was going to walk away, making up some lame excuse and…

“Coffee instead then?”

He smiled at her, and suddenly, she felt herself growing more at ease as she smiled back. “I could do coffee,” she replied.

“Good,” William replied, his smile growing. “I’ll make this as quick as I can. Personally, I’d much rather spend my evening with a beautiful woman than a bunch of stodgy types in tweed trying to kiss my arse.”

Buffy giggled, though she knew William wouldn’t completely get the joke. “I can wait.”

He winked at her again before going back into the reception.

As soon as he was gone, Buffy clutched the wall for support.

Their coffee had gotten cold hours ago, but neither of the small table’s occupants seemed to care. She’d worried when she’d first walked into the reception that she wouldn’t have anything to talk to him about, but it appeared that nothing could be further from the truth.

William was smart, charming, and funny, and much to Buffy’s surprise, he treated her like she was, too. He leaned forward, interested in what she had to say, never telling her to shut up or belittling her opinions or ideas. It was an unusual feeling for her, and she could hardly believe that someone as intelligent as William clearly was would actually pay attention to her like this.

“You’re really eighteen?” he asked as their conversation hit a temporary lull.

Buffy blushed slightly at the question, wishing suddenly that she were a little older. “Yeah.”

“Damn. And American, too. How’d you end up with all that quick wit and insight?”

She thought about his question for a moment before she replied, “You know, I’m not sure if I was just complimented or insulted.”

William laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, luv. I don’t think I could bring myself to insult you.”

And how he could bring her from conversational to tongue tied in seconds, she had no idea.

He leaned back against the booth, his hands locked behind his head, and gave her a smirk that should have been arrogant, only she found it so damn attractive she couldn’t wish it wasn’t there. “Although you know, all this talking tonight, and we haven’t even touched the really important issue here.”

“Oh yeah, what would that be?”

“Me, of course.”

Buffy laughed then cocked an eyebrow. “You?”

“Yes.” He leaned forward, his hands folded on the table now. “What did you think of my poetry?”

Aside from the cocky way he’d posed the question, Buffy could see the insecurity in his eyes, as if it were important to him that she personally like his poetry. “It was…” Buffy paused, searching her vocabulary for something that could sum up what she’d felt when she’d listened to him back in the lecture hall. She realized there wasn’t one.

“It was amazing,” she said finally. “Like…like you’d taken emotions and poured them onto the page. In the third one you read, I could practically feel your heartache.” She blushed and looked down, remembering a discussion they’d had in her poetry class. “Or I guess the speaker’s heartache.”

“It was mine,” William told her softly, his voice almost inaudible from across the table.

Buffy’s hand shook, and she waited a moment before she finally got the nerve to reach across the table and lay it atop his. His hand felt warm and strong under hers, and Buffy could’ve sworn she felt a jolt pass through her. William stared at her hand for a moment before he finally looked up and met her eyes. She sucked in a breath, knowing from what she saw there that he was feeling the same thing she was feeling, and as he closed the distance between them across the table, she trembled with anticipation.

But the kiss never came. Instead, he pulled away abruptly. “I’m sorry,” he said, his whole body language changing. “I can’t do this. I thought I could, but I can’t.”

Buffy frowned, confused. Things had been going so well – better than they ever had before with a man she’d just met. She couldn’t understand what had brought this on so suddenly. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Is…is it me? Did…I do something, say something?”

“No. It’s not…” William sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. “I’m married.”

Buffy felt like someone had just pushed all the air out of her chest. “What?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be leading you on, I just saw you in the audience and… Bugger.” William stood up and put some money on the table to pay for the coffee. “I should go. I’m sorry, Buffy.”

Buffy stared at him as he left, too stunned to cry.

Do I have readers for this one? Please review if you’re up for this one. Or not. Either one. Just review.

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