L. Smith - Moonsong

Careful y, she peeked back around the corner. He hadn’t noticed her; he was stil reading intently. He was wearing a gray T-shirt today, and his soft-looking hair curled a bit at the nape of his neck. His face looked sort of sad with those gorgeous blue eyes hidden beneath his long lashes and no sign of that fabulous smile. There were dark shadows under his eyes.

Bonnie’s first instinct was to sneak away. She could wait and find the Virginia Woolf book tomorrow; it wasn’t like she was going to read it today. She real y didn’t want Zander to think she was stalking him. It would be better if he saw her somewhere, when she wasn’t paying attention. If he approached her, she’d know he was interested.

After al , maybe he wasn’t interested in Bonnie. He’d been kind of flirtatious when he’d run into her, but he’d nearly knocked her down. What if he was just being friendly? What if he didn’t even remember Bonnie?

Nope, better to take off this time and wait til she was better prepared. She wasn’t even wearing eyeliner, for heaven’s sake. Making up her mind, Bonnie turned firmly away.

But, on the other hand…

Bonnie hesitated. There’d been a connection between them, hadn’t there? She’d felt something when her eyes met his. And he’d smiled at her like he was real y seeing her, past the fluff and fluster.

And what about the resolution she’d made the day before, walking to her dorm from this very same bookstore? If she was going to become a terrific, confident, stepping-out-of-the-shadows kind of person, she couldn’t run away every time she saw a boy she liked.

Bonnie had always admired the way that Elena managed to get what she wanted. Elena just went after it and nothing got in her way. When Stefan had first come to Fel ’s Church, he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Elena, certainly not to fal into her arms and start some kind of amazing eternal romance. But Elena hadn’t cared. She was going to have Stefan, even if it kil ed her.

And, wel , it had kil ed her, hadn’t it?

Bonnie shivered. Bonnie shook her head a little. The point was, if you wanted to find love, you couldn’t be afraid of trying, could you?

She stuck her chin determinedly into the air. At least she wasn’t blushing anymore. Her cheeks were so cold, she was probably as white as a snowwoman, but she definitely wasn’t blushing. So that was something.

Before she could change her mind again, she walked quickly around the corner back into the aisle where Zander stood reading.

“Hi!” she said, her voice squeaking a tiny bit. “Zander!” He looked up, and that amazing, beautiful smile spread across his face.

“Bonnie!” he said enthusiastical y. “Hey, I’m real y glad to see you. I was thinking about you earlier.”

“You were?” Bonnie asked, and immediately wanted to kick herself at how overly enthusiastic she sounded.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “I was.” His sky-blue eyes held hers. “I was wishing I’d gotten your phone number.”

“You were?” Bonnie asked again, and this time didn’t even worry about how she sounded.

“Sure,” he said. He scuffed his feet against the carpet, like he was a little nervous, and a warmth blossomed inside Bonnie. He was nervous talking to her! “I was thinking,” Zander went on, “maybe we could do something sometime.

I mean, if you wanted to.”

“Oh,” Bonnie said. “I mean, yes! I would want to. If you did.”

Zander smiled again, and it was as if their little corner of the fiction section was lit up with a glowing light. Bonnie had to keep herself from staggering backward, he was so gorgeous.

“How about this weekend?” Zander asked, and Bonnie, feeling suddenly as light and buoyant as though she could float up into the air, smiled back.

Meredith stepped her left foot behind her and raised her right heel, moving into a back stance as she brought her hands up sharply, fists together, in a blocking move. Then she slid her foot sideways into a front stance and punched forward with the fist of her left hand. She loved running through a taekwondo form. Each movement was choreographed, and the only thing to do was to practice over and over until the whole form flowed in a model of precision, grace, and control. Taekwondo forms were perfectible, and Meredith enjoyed perfection.

The most glorious thing about them was that once she knew her forms so wel that they were as natural as breathing, she could be ready for anything. In a fight, she would be able to sense what her opponent’s next move would be and counter with a block or a kick or a punch without even thinking.

She turned swiftly, blocked high with her right hand and low with her left. It was the preparation, Meredith knew. If she was so prepared that her body could sense what move she needed to make without her brain having to get involved, then she would be able to truly protect herself and everyone else around her.

A few weeks ago, when she and her friends had been under attack from the phantom and she’d sprained her ankle, only Stefan had been left with Power enough to defend Fel ’s Church.

Stefan, a vampire.

Meredith’s lips tightened as she automatical y kicked forward with her right foot, slid into a tiger stance, and blocked with her left hand.

She liked Stefan, and she trusted him, she real y did, but stil … She could picture generation upon generation of Sulezes rol ing over in their graves, cursing her, if they knew that she had left herself and her friends so vulnerable, with only a vampire between themselves and danger. Vampires were the enemy.

Not Stefan, of course. She knew, despite al her training, that she could put her faith in Stefan. Damon, on the other hand… However useful Damon had been in a couple of battles, however reasonably pleasant and, frankly, out-of-character he had behaved for the last few weeks, Meredith couldn’t bring herself to trust him.

But if she trained hard, if she perfected herself as a warrior, Meredith wouldn’t have to. She moved into a right front stance and, sharp and clean, punched forward with her right hand.

“Nice punch,” said a voice behind her.

Meredith turned to see a short-haired African American girl leaning against the door of the practice room, watching her.

“Thanks,” said Meredith, surprised.

The girl strol ed into the room. “What are you,” she asked, “a black belt?”

“Yes,” Meredith said, and couldn’t help adding proudly,

“in taekwondo and karate.”

“Hmm,” the girl said, her eyes sparkling. “I do taekwondo and aikido myself. My name’s Samantha. I’ve been looking for a sparring partner. Interested?” Despite the casualness of her tone, Samantha was bouncing eagerly on the bal s of her feet, a mischievous smile flickering at the corners of her mouth, and Meredith’s eyes narrowed.

“Sure,” she said, her attitude light. “Show me what you’ve got.”

Samantha’s smile broadened. She kicked off her shoes and stepped onto the practice mat next to Meredith. They faced off, assessing each other. She was a head shorter than Meredith, thin, but wiry and sleekly muscled, and she moved as graceful y as a cat.

The anticipation in the girl’s eyes betrayed Samantha’s belief that Meredith would be easy to beat. She was thinking that Meredith was one of those trainees who was al form and technique with no real fighting instinct. Meredith knew that kind of fighter wel , had met them often enough in competitions. If that was what Samantha thought of Meredith, she was in for a surprise.

“Ready?” Samantha asked. At Meredith’s nod, she immediately launched a punch while bringing the opposite-side foot around in an attempt to sweep Meredith off her feet. Meredith reacted instinctively, blocking the blow, dodging the foot, then sweeping a kick of her own, which Samantha avoided, grinning with simple pleasure.