![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
deep_red_bellsShe couldn't shake the eerie feeling that she was being watched.
And it was very possible that yes, she was being watched, and simply hadn't spotted the one doing the watching yet. Either way, her anonymous admirer had either made a very good study of her, or had just lucked out with his choice of meeting places. The rare bookstore was an absolute paradise for her closet bibliophilism, but it also had a dim, mysterious sort of feel that had her constantly glancing over her shoulder, expecting someone to be breathing down her neck...or not breathing at all, she supposed, would be more accurate.
It seemed to be par for the Slayer course. You needed at least one forbidden little tryst with a vampiric suitor. Hell, in Buffy's case, there'd been two. Baileigh clearly had some catching up to do.
A wry smile touched her lips, fingertips brushing over a display of a set of Jane Austen novels that one could own for the low, low price of $8,500. Maybe her secret admirer would be kind enough to actually tell her his name. If she was lucky.
And if, she added silently, pulling out her cell phone and glancing at the time--8:52, eight minutes away from their pre-arranged meeting time--he decided to show up.
And it was very possible that yes, she was being watched, and simply hadn't spotted the one doing the watching yet. Either way, her anonymous admirer had either made a very good study of her, or had just lucked out with his choice of meeting places. The rare bookstore was an absolute paradise for her closet bibliophilism, but it also had a dim, mysterious sort of feel that had her constantly glancing over her shoulder, expecting someone to be breathing down her neck...or not breathing at all, she supposed, would be more accurate.
It seemed to be par for the Slayer course. You needed at least one forbidden little tryst with a vampiric suitor. Hell, in Buffy's case, there'd been two. Baileigh clearly had some catching up to do.
A wry smile touched her lips, fingertips brushing over a display of a set of Jane Austen novels that one could own for the low, low price of $8,500. Maybe her secret admirer would be kind enough to actually tell her his name. If she was lucky.
And if, she added silently, pulling out her cell phone and glancing at the time--8:52, eight minutes away from their pre-arranged meeting time--he decided to show up.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2008-12-19 05:42 pm (UTC)"Maybe I was wondering," she admitted quietly, forcing herself to stop trying to looking for him, focusing instead on the books around her, fingertip straying over the spines, examining the titles and authors. "Maybe I'm also wondering what the hell we're both doing here. It's a bad, bad idea."
And one that couldn't possibly end well, at that.