Chapter Text
Buffy took a deep breath, trying to ignore the loud sounds of the ball being dribbled in the hallway. She moved the bow across the strings, careful to stay on rhythm, using the metronome as a guide. The ball was following the rhythm and she let herself get distracted, following it instead. One bounce broke the rhythm and her concentration. She couldn’t be the best cello player in the orchestra if she let obnoxious jocks distract her. She placed her bow on the stand that held her book and got up, resting the cello against her chair.
She walked out of the music room and crossed her arms over her chest as she saw the group of boys. “I’m pretty sure basketball practice is in the gymnasium, not the hallway,” she said.
A boy she recognized as Marty turned to her, the basketball in his hands. “Are we bothering you?” he asked. Something in his expression didn’t read as serious.
She raised her eyebrows and pursed her lips. “Yeah, so do you mind going somewhere else?”
He thought for a second and then took a step toward her. “If you can take the ball from me, we’ll go.”
“Fine, shouldn’t be too hard if you meatheads can do it,” she replied dryly. Her palms started to sweat, though. She remembers seeing him on the court when Cyrus had tried and failed to be “boyly” and dragged her to the game with him. Marty wasn’t just good, he was the best. It seemed impossible how good he was. She took a deep breath and pushed down her nerves as she took a step toward him, relaxing to have an easier time.
He started dribbling again, and when Buffy attempted to grab the ball he was fast to get out of the way. He dribbled lower and she tried to hit the ball, he darted to the left and she followed but he quickly went to the right. She internally scolded herself for allowing him to fake her out, but then the ball was bouncing back and forth between his hands and under his knee.
She stood up straight and pushed him, grabbing the ball. “I win,” she smirked down at him.
Marty smiled up at her, he landed on his ass and wasn’t attempting to get up yet. “You play dirty,” he leaned back and tilted his head. “I like it.”
Buffy suppressed a genuine smile, biting the insides of her cheeks. She knew better than to dignify him with a response. He lifted his hand, obviously asking her to help him up. She wanted to take it, just so she’d be able to touch him, but she had the suspicion he’d just pull her down to his level. So, she turned and walked back into the music room.
She was thankful that the sound of the basketball being dribbled didn’t resurface while she was playing. She was able to actually focus on perfecting the piece. She ran through the song twice without making a mistake by the time the door opened. She chose to ignore the tall and lean figure in her peripheral. She got half way through the song before she realized he wasn’t planning on leaving.
“Why are you staring?” she asked, not looking at him.
“I’m not staring,” this caught her attention. She looked at him. “I’m listening.”
She hated herself for smiling at that. “Why?”
He shrugged. “It’s pretty.”
She rolled her eyes and positioned her bow, wanting to flee this conversation. She took a deep breath and began playing again. When he took a few steps closer to her, no longer leaning against the wall, the bow hit the wrong string. She cursed under her breath and paused for a moment.
“I wanted to apologize for earlier,” he broke the silence and her concentration.
She looked at him again, squinting. “Sure you did,” she was apprehensive. He had to have some ulterior motive for this.
He nodded. “I changed my mind on apologizing when I realized what it must do to the ego of someone like you,” there was a hint of mischief in his eyes that caused her heart to skip a beat.
“Wow, how is it being the pot that calls the kettle black?” she placed her bow on the stand, the same place she had it earlier.
“I never got your name,” he said. “So I guess I could call you kettle.”
She rolled her eyes. “That’s not going to get you very far.”
She couldn’t believe she was actually having a conversation with Marty. She also couldn’t believe she was enjoying it. Part of her wanted to just tell him her name and ask for his number and hope he didn’t laugh in her face.
“What is it gonna take for you to tell me your name?” he asked.
She looked down at the cello between her knees and then looked at him. “I’ll tell you my name if you can play any instrument in this room.”
He looked nervous by this challenge. “Any?” he asked.
She nodded. “Any.”
He looked around and then walked to the back wall. There were extra instruments lying on the metal shelves. He took about 30 seconds to examine the instruments in front of him. He grabbed something small and hid it as he walked back over to his previous position.
He had a smile on his face as he slowly revealed the triangle in his hands. She wanted to stand up and grab it and throw it but that would be going against her word. She did say any instrument, the triangle is an instrument. He tapped the metal stick against the triangle and bit his lip.
She rolled her eyes and sighed. “Buffy,” she picked her bow up again and averted her gaze.
“I’m-”
“I know who you are,” she interrupted.
She could practically feel the beams of his happiness at that admission. “You do?” he asked. He sounded… giddy. She nodded and looked at him. He looked as happy as he sounded. She gave him a small smile.