I stood there, staring at the floor impatiently, when I heard her gasp.

Next came the requisite delighted squeal.

Vaguely, I thought I heard someone say my name but I kept examining the Celtic knot pattern on the edge of my shirt. It was a gift from him, actually. Not that I should be thinking about that now, anyway. Not when I'm the verge of crying as is.

I only look up when I feel someone touch my arm.

"Xander," I wonder if my voice sounds as strained to him as it does to me,

"Hey, how are you?"

His eyes search mine for a moment and I know he's looking for a hint of what I'm thinking. A hint of how I feel about seeing him. So, I force a smile.

He lets out a tentative one of his own.

"Uhm, not too bad. Mom and Dad are giving me a rent break this month since I helped clean out the garage so I'm swimmin in the dough. How about you?"

"I'm great too. L.A. is really awesome." This is where my years of acting classes pay off big. I let the 'excitement' creep into my voice, "You should...uhm, visit sometime. Angel and I would love to show you around. There are some great clubs near his apartment." The mention of his name causes me to stumble over the last part of the sentence but I don't think Xander noticed. If there's one thing I can always count on is Xander not noticing. At least this time that's a good thing.

"Dead boy in a night club? You're kidding right?"

For the briefest of moments, my temper flares at the mention of Xander's pet name for Angel. Then I remember that it's really none of my business to be outraged so I just shrug and smile again. "Well, you'd be surprised."

Buffy says something especially loudly and I glance unintentionally in Angel's direction and immediately regret it. If she got any closer to him, they'd share a body. Just thinking about that suddenly makes me violently nauseous.

"So Xander, how's life in the basement?" The comment was supposed to come out as a friendly joke but instead, in my flustered state of mind, it came off sounding like an insult.

His eyes lose a bit of their sparkle and I jump to correct my mistake, "I mean, it HAS to be way better than the dumps Angel, Doyle and I are living in. Let me tell you, there's totally no money in our line of business. Not to mention the hideous World War II blackout drapes Angel has all over the office. Can you see how pale I've gotten?" I chatter on, knowing he'll buy it. As his lips quirk into a grin, I let out a sigh of relief.

He's only humoring me and I know it, but it still feels good.

"Cordelia?"

Trying not to freeze in place, I turn my hesitation into a slow glance over my shoulder, hoping it came off more casual than startled, "Willow, hi."

It seems like ages since I've talked to her even though we do drop occasional emails about casework. Rarely, if ever, do our conversations venture into anything personal but I guess she's been the strongest contact to Sunnydale I've had.

Turning fully around, I reward her with a smile before she does something really surprising.

She hugs me.

Fuck it; now I'm REALLY gonna start bawling.

"How're you?" she asks in her worried-Willow way and I can't help but want to laugh at how she's exactly the same. Not that I've ever really been the source of Willow concern before...at least not in a good way, but it's nice to see that some people never change.

"Not bad," I lie, careful to keep my gaze locked on hers in case my eyes feel the urge to wander.

"Glad to hear it," she responds quietly, keeping her piercing green eyes focused unflinchingly on me as well.

It's almost like she sending me a message, which sounds really weird and Hellmouthy, but I've honestly never met anyone with more expressive eyes than Willow. It takes me a second to recognize the look she's giving me and when it does, I can't help but feel a little freaked out.

Compassion.

She knows.

Shit.

Leave it to Willow to be as quietly observant, reflective and understanding as always. How she manages to deduce in about 20 minutes what it's taken me 2 years to accept is pretty much beyond my scope of comprehension. I guess it comes with having been ostracized for 14 years.

There really need to be more Willows in the world.

So I guess that means I have a choice. This has been building up for about a year and a half now and I haven't told a living soul. I don't have many other friends in L.A., I don't know Kate that well and telling Doyle is the equivalent of telling Angel. I feel like I should lie, but something tells me that it's sorta pointless. That and the fact that if I *don't* tell someone soon I'm probably going to do something completely insane like blow up at him or jump him. Whichever I think of first. Should I confide? Maybe. I mean, Willow cares. That's what she's there for right?

Maybe.

"A-actually, Willow, I'm.."

"So, do either of you chicks want some cake?"

Xander. Shit. He's still standing there. You'd think he would've left by now. Maybe if I wish long and hard enough, he'll disappear so I can have a mental breakdown and pour my heart out and embarrass myself without an audience.

"No thanks, Xander. Why don't you have my piece?" Breaking off with me, she sends him a charming smile.

And who says wishes don't come true?

"Cool, thanks!"

Out of the corner of my eye, I think I actually saw him salivate.

Willow turns back to me, "I'm glad you could all make it back for Buffy's birthday. She's had some pretty scary ones but you guys just being here has made her turning 20 so much cooler."

"We were...uhm, here in town on a case, so it was pretty much on the way." That didn't quite come out the way I wanted it to, but oh well.

"The sweater you gave her is really cool, too. Where'd you get it?"

"It's Abercrombie." And never fit me anyways, I add silently.

"Oh, it so cute!" She bounces a little and I try to muster up some kind of reaction but it's hard.

And getting harder by the second.

Unbidden, my eyes shoot over in his direction again and I actually move a step towards him. Maybe if I get there fast enough, I can stop her from COMPLETELY plastering herself on his leather jacket. It'll probably smell like her for the next week too. Sweet, sugary, fruity Buffy-scent. Great.

It's weird, but the intense hatred I'm feeling for Buffy right now is transferring onto Willow. It might be guilt by association but suddenly I really need to get the hell out of this place and go for a walk. Unfortunately, this is Sunnydale and I'd die so for now I'm trapped. This whole 'confide in Willow' idea was stupid anyway.

"Oh, look, it's Xander." she glances over my shoulder, "Hey Cordy, wanna check out the study? I've got those files you and Angel needed for your case saved to my hard drive."

Before I can respond, she quickly grabs my arm and leads me into a smaller room set slightly apart from the large area where the party is going on.

I wait for her to close the door before letting out a ragged sigh.

"I'm sorry for being such a flake, Willow but I've been really tired lately s-,"

"Don't worry, we can talk in here. It's quiet." She gives me a simple, completely non-threatening 'I'm here to listen' smile and sits down on the ragged couch in the middle of the room.

The irritation vanishes and yet again I am reminded of my bitchy ways in high school. Yet again I get the intense urge to slap myself.

God, how can she even stand to talk to me?

I'm afraid to look her in the eye here in private, so instead I study the floor. "Look, Willow..." what does one say in a situation like this?

"It's okay, I understand."

I pause for a second and try to feel the mood of the conversation. Finally, I settle on the safest response. "It's that obvious, huh?"

She smiles almost benevolently at me and shakes her head, "Naw, not to him and not to most of the others. But I've been there and I know what it's like."

"W-well, it's no big deal," I mean, it isn't a big deal. It's a stupid, stupid thing to be doing and I feel like a huge naïve loser and it sucks. Isn't there medication for this?

She just nods slowly, in her understanding Willowy way and looks up at me, "How long have you been in love with him?"

Hearing those words out loud is like having this huge dam just break inside of me. For the first time ever, it's real.

Suddenly I feel very alone and very vulnerable and very very stupid standing in the middle of Giles' study with Willow, whom I haven't spoken to in about 2 years, talking about the darkest secret I've ever had.

So, I do the one thing I've been dreading the whole time.

I cry.

My sobs sound like an animalistic, harsh grating noise in the small, dusty silence of the room and it makes me feel even worse. It makes me feel ugly and God help me, ugly is not something I want to feel like right now.

But I can't stop myself.

So weak.

"It's okay, Cordy...it's okay." Calmly, she hands me a tissue but remains on the couch as if knowing how much worse it would be for her to touch me right now.

"Thanks," I manage, taking the clean white sheet from her and dabbing desperately at my eyes.

I must look like shit now.

"He has no clue, huh?"

"In more ways than one." I laugh softly in spite of myself.

"You know that he and Buffy are...over...right?" Her words are cautious, almost as if she's afraid to set me off again.

I just smile and shake my head, afraid that if I open my mouth, the huge lump in my throat will choke me and the tears will come again.

"She's seeing someone else. He's a really awesome guy, too. A little oblivious sometimes, but with Xander, we've gotten used to it. I mean, Buffy and Angel...th-they aren't the same, Cordelia."

God, how I want to believe her. She's Willow, right? Willow's smart. She knows what's going on because she observes things better than anyone I know. Anyone except for maybe Angel himself.

That point's kinda moot though.

"Well, yeah but th-there's Kate." I manage to blurt out.

She cocks her head to one side and seems to be considering this piece of information.

For a moment I'm desperately afraid that she's going to agree with me. That she's going to say that I'm right and that Kate is probably better for him that I could ever be.

"Kate's nice. I just met her."

Just when I really think I'm really going to throw up, she bestows that smile on me again and my heart soars because I know that she's still on my side.

"But Kate isn't you, Cordelia. You and Angel are different...you have history...you...click well."

"...click?" Isn't that one of those vague things you say when you think someone doesn't have a chance but you're too nice to tell them?

"You know, like you compliment eachother really well. And it's not like with him and Buffy when they had that huge...conflict of interest. You two work together."

Well this just gets better and better. I mean, Kate works with us too. "Kate works with us too."

"Yeah, but Kate's with the police and Angel seems so...non-police to me. A-and you guys knew eachother in high school. Like, he still TALKS to you and stuff which is a really good thing." Her face reddens slightly when she realizes how her comment sounded, "I mean, like, you've seen the worst sides of eachother and you still get along. He was homicidal and you were kinda self involved but you're both really cool now which is nice. He accepts you for you and you do the same for him." She pauses. "That seemed like a lot of 'you's....Anyways, Kate and Angel haven't really done that. You know?"

So. Willow still babbles. Oddly enough, it's not half as irritating as I remember. Mainly because if you listen carefully enough, about 80% of the babble makes sense.

Still playing the devil's advocate, I test her resolve again.

"But...Kate's blonde..."

I'm not sure she made out what I said because my throat is still dry and it came out kinda garbled. I also seriously doubt the phrase held any meaning to her beyond the obvious, but yet again, Willow manages to surprise me.

"Okay, so yeah, Kate is blonde and so was Buffy and so was Darla. You're totally right. He definitely seems to have a fixation on blondes, but Cordy...so what?" Her green eyes shift suddenly and become darker, "So what? Are you telling me that you're going to give into that?"

"Wh-what?"

"Are you going to let the fact that most of his past girlfriends have been blonde stop you from loving him?"

Well, when she says it like that, it DOES sound kind of stupid...but still...

"Well?" She prods sharply.

I furrow my brows, somewhat startled by her change of tone, when I realize it.

Deep inside of me, I feel that old spark re-ignite and I can't believe it.

A challenge.

Willow's challenging me to pursue Angel.

God, have I mentioned how much I fucking LOVE this girl?

I smile at her, my first genuine smile since I got here, before responding.

"No. No, I guess I'm not."

"You GUESS?"

"I * know* I'm not." I amend quickly.

"Darn tootin!" She nods vigorously and punches the couch for effect, only to kick up a rather large cloud of dust. Green eyes shift curiously to the fabric, and she cautiously pokes it again, much to the same effect. "Eww.." She does it again. And again. And harder. And softer. And several times in a row.

I'm trying not to burst out laughing as Willow keeps nudging at the furniture but it's hard. Just when I think I've totally lost her, she suddenly snaps back up as if remembering where she is and it's like 'scientific Willow' steps aside and 'friend Willow' comes back.

"S-sorry. I'll have to mention that to Giles. I think it's, like, an heirloom or something but still..."

"Yeah..."

"Look Cordelia," she lowers her voice, "All I'm saying is if you want to say something, don't wait, okay? I mean, I waited and...well...waiting is a bad thing."

For a second, I wonder what she means by that. Does the comment refer to waiting to tell Xander she loved him or telling Xander she loved him and thereby almost losing Oz?

The moment is lost before I get a chance to investigate.

"Willow?"

We both glance up, startled.

"Hey, Giles." She turns around to face the door.

"Oh, yes, hello Cordelia." He smiles at me and I manage to wave with one hand while covertly tucking the Kleenex into my back pocket

"Sorry to interrupt, but Doyle has managed to do something to the computer which is causing it to make loud beeping noises at irregular intervals..."

"Gotcha....I'm coming...," She rolls her eyes dramatically and stands.

"You ready, Cordelia?" She asks, throwing me a grin.

And I grin back.

Because I think I am.

Now, it could just be me, which lately it tends to be (I think it's hormones or whatever), but something feels different.

Angel and Doyle are sitting in the front talking-actually, Doyle is talking and driving and Angel is busy being...Angel-while I'm lying in the back, trying to sleep a little on the way home.

Kate's driving up ahead of us. She brought her own car in case she was unexpectedly needed back at work.

I don't really know what the hell it is that's been making me feel so edgy since no one has really said anything to me since we got in the car, but the air is...different somehow.

"You're not even listening to a word I'm saying, are ya?" Doyle bursts out laughing from the front and I crane my neck to see what's going on.

"What?" Angel responds distractedly.

"Nevermind, mate. I'll tell ya later. Maybe after you're done thinking about that cute blonde of yours. I think I understand the whole 'soulless' thing now. That lass was quite a looker."

So, there you have it. Let the Buffy obsession begin again. Maybe Doyle can join in and they can start a fucking club. Make Xander the fucking mascot or something.

I close my eyes. What the hell is wrong with me? Gotta stop this. Angst is bad for the complexion and I can't afford to lose that too. If there's one thing I have-and this is the ONLY thing I have-it's my looks.

I've never been known for my personality or my brains, no matter how much I argue the fact that I have 'layers'. If there's one thing Cordelia Chase is good at, it's looking good. And I have to play that card for as long as I can.

I know that.

"Although, that redhead was quite a stiffener too, eh?" Doyle pokes Angel playfully and I want to burst out laughing. It's not because Willow isn't pretty or doesn't deserve the 'compliment' but because I know she'd keel over and die of embarrassment if she ever heard it.

I'll have to remember to mention it to her some time.

Somewhat happy for my hiding position in the shadows of the leather seat, and, for once, grateful for having been forgotten, I decide to take advantage of it by playing my all time favorite game: watch Angel brood.

Am I torturing myself? Well, yeah, but the man has the most INCREDIBLE brown broody eyes I've ever seen. Highly droolworthy. Much like the rest of him.

Probably shouldn't go there.

Arching my back up slightly, I scoot up a little to prop my head against the curved surface of the seat so I can get a better view.

Oh My God.

I think my heart just stopped beating.

Nope. There we go. Worried there for a second.

Scooting back down again, I turn my head to face the back of the seats and try to calm my breathing slightly.

We just made eye contact.

Accidental or not, I dunno, but that's never happened before.

Hazarding a cautious glance between heavily lidded eyes, I can't believe it but he's still sending me glances over his shoulder.

Shit, what's that all about?

"You okay back there, Delia?" Doyle calls out and I nod before realizing that he can't see me.

Grateful for the distraction, though, I quickly reply.

"Yeah. Fine. Thanks. We almost home?"

"Another 20 minutes," Angel responds quietly.

"Oh. Okay."

"Are you cold back there?"

The quiet question catches me completely offguard but before I can say anything, he's shrugging off his leather jacket and swiveling in his seat.

Somewhat self-concious, I pull my skirt down a bit as his hand brushes my hip and he drapes the coat over me.

"Thanks." I manage to mumble.

"No problem."

His eyes crinkle a little and I realize that not only is he looking at me....he's smiling at me.

It's something I've seen about 5 or 6 times in my life and it still takes my breath away.

What the hell is going on here?

If this is just about him still on a 'Buffy high' I'm gonna be really pissed off, but it's just creepy. Almost like he can read my thoughts. Buffy was able to do that once which scared the hell out of me, but as far as I know, Angel isn't a mind reader.

Absentmindedly, I realize that his jacket doesn't smell a thing like Buffy. It smells nice and clean and masculine.

Now maybe if I rub my wrists under the inside lining, it'll smell a little like *me*. Pulling the jacket around my shoulders, I go to my task as covertly as possible.

Naw, I spent hours in that stupid library in high school and I never read a damn thing about vampires being able to hear other people's thoughts so wh-

Oh FUCK no.

You know that feeling where someone takes your stomach and crumples it into a tiny ball and throws it in a bucket of ice water?

I just got that.

I'm currently surpressing the urge to roll over and bury my face in the seat for the rest of the ride home.

I think I just did an exceptionally stupid thing, especially because I should know better. In fact, I DO know better.

Damn.

Hear.

Vampires hear.

Really well, in fact.

How well I don't know for sure, but I'm sure Willow does. I'm going to email her as soon as I get home. Provided I don't die of embarrassment first.

How far away from him were we when we had that discussion?

Maybe about 40 feet. But it was through a door too! That has to count, right?

Right?

Uh oh.

Something tells me that now would probably be a really good time to feign sleep.

Shit.

Yeah.

Sleep.