Author: JustSkipIt
Feedback: Yes, please. Please leave feedback on the Willtaralympics 2007 thread on the Kitten Board.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own Willow and Tara and the Buffyverse. No copyright infringement is meant by this fic and I will not make any money from it.

At first I was totally irritated about this bet. I mean... why did I take the bet at all? Because Buffy dared us? Not a good enough reason. Ninety days. Giles is e-mailing everything and paying his bills online, Buffy is learning Latin, Xander is taking ballet, and I've joined a gym. And I have to go and workout 5 days a week for the entire time. Of course now you're wondering what the payoff is. $1000 apiece and bragging rights which are obviously worth more than the money.

So now I'm a gym rat. Ok, maybe not a rat. I joined one of those megalithic gyms that are open 24 hours a day so that if I am too embarrassed to go, I can at least go in the middle of the night but I tried that and all the guys were either kind of stoned or kind of roid-ragey or some combination of the two so I'm taking my chances in the morning before I go to the office.

And quite honestly, I just don't feel like going back home to shower and change. So not only am I here four weekdays and one weekend day at 6:00 in the morning, but I get dressed at the gym too. It's all kind of embarrassing too, like I'm being picked last for kickball in fourth grade or something. I mean sure, if Xander was captain he would pick me so I wouldn't be last but other than that? Lasty McLast you can call me.

Mostly I use the cardiovascular machines. I mean they don't take a degree in rocket science to figure them out (not that it would be a deterrent) although I have no idea what I'm supposed to get from the heart rate information. But the weights? No way. I'll look like an idiot. And the aerobics classes? Step aerobics? Who thought of that? A way to look more like a spazz and fall over things? I'll just skip it.

The downside is that Blondy-Blue does the aerobics class. So there's never a chance to go by her machine and ask if she's done reading Jane or Mother Jones or whatever and could I borrow it and not bend any of the pages down or sweat on it or anything. You know, like the hot (I guess they're hot?) guys do when the girls are working out? And going to her step class would really only convince her that I'm a total spazz.

The upside? Ok. I get to the gym at 5:35 and she arrives at 5:40 for a 5:45 class. I get done and go in the locker room at 6:26 and take my shower. I try to be quick because it's all one big kind of communal area and again it's like a flash back but this one to high school. Her class must end at 6:30 because she usually comes in at 6:32 while I'm rinsing my conditioner. And... What can I say? She's just... I mean perfect. Her body? Her Hair? Her ... I always have to turn off the hot on my spigot to keep from hyperventilating. I think I've seen her glancing at me but maybe she just wonders why I'm shivering while I towel off.

And I had this great plan that maybe I could go ask her to borrow her hairdryer or her hairbrush or something. But I mean what kind of person doesn't take those things to the gym? I found this really cool bag with like a compartment for everything. It has room for 4 tampons and hair rubber bands and three toothbrushes and toothpaste and conditioner and shampoo and a scrubby with a separate pocket to keep the scrubby from getting my other stuff wet.

And it's not like I could pretend that I don't have any mouse. I mean one day I was buttoning up my blouse and I looked over and she was kind of smiling at me. Did I mention she has a very cute smile? It's a little lop-sided but very cute. Anyway, so she looked at me and then at my bag and then said, "Your bag is very organized." And smiled again.

I said something very smooth like, "Um... yeah. I like organization."

Hard to believe she didn't just fall into bed with me that day huh? Smooth, Rosenberg. Arggghhh.

And I mean. Was she hitting on me? Or just being friendly? Maybe she works for a gym bag manufacturer and she wanted to do marketing research. Or maybe I was in her space and she really wanted me to move. Or maybe, and did I mention you can shoot me now?, she saw me sneaking peeks at her in the shower. Which, really, it's kind of her fault about the peeks because if she didn't want me to thinks she's so hot, she shouldn't be so hot. I know, not Earth Logic. But I'm kind of at a loss here and I've been working out for 43 days now.

Well, ok. That was all totally and 100% true until this morning at 6:51. I was just putting a little blush on my cheeks. I mean not that I'm like makeup girl or anything but I don't want anyone to mistake me for a vampire either.

So I was at the mirror with my trusty handy-dandy bag and she comes over. She was wearing her slacks and blouse so at least I didn't lose consciousness or anything and she stood for a minute before speaking. "Excuse me. Do you have any extra toothpaste in that wonderful bag of yours?"

She held out her toothbrush and a really mangled empty toothpaste tube which, #1 I guess we can assume she doesn't roll from the bottom and #2 I could have sworn that she had toothpaste when I was surreptitiously watching her yesterday. I mean... the way she brushes her teeth is just so cute and oh god. I am totally insane aren't I?

So to demonstrate exactly why I should not do step aerobics I promptly dropped my blush brush and then caught it before it rolled off the counter, getting blush on my slacks. Very smooth. "I... yes. I have um..." I reached in the bag and pulled out three really fresh tubes. "Peppermint or Wintermint or um... Apricot." I looked at the tubes. "But I haven't tried the apricot yet and somehow it doesn't seem like that great an idea now. Maybe you want to stay safe?" I held them out to her.

She smiled at me. "I'm feeling r-rather brave at the moment." She reached out and took the apricot one and squeezed a little onto her brush (from the bottom). She handed it back and stepped over to the nearest sink and brushed her teeth and obviously she could see me kind of dopily looking at her since, hello, mirror? But I couldn't help it. She had spoken to me not once or even twice but three times? I blushed and looked at my feet and finished putting my makeup away.

I was zipping up my bag when she came back into the area by the lockers. "I really appreciate the toothpaste..."

She paused long enough that I finally figured out that she wanted my name. "Willow."

She smiled. "Willow. Maybe I could take you to dinner to pay you back?"

I scrunched up my eyebrows a little bit. "Dinner for toothpaste? That seems a little uneven don't you think? I mean it's just toothpaste and if you like calculate the cost per gram I don't think..." She was laughing at me. Not laughing mean just looking like she thought I was the most amusing person she'd ever met.

"Willow. I don't really mean to pay you back." She kind of giggled. "I just meant maybe we could go to dinner? You know together?" She waved her fingers back and forth between us.

"Oh. Oh! Really? I uh... you mean like a date?" I probably said that last word too loud because a girl on the next row of lockers looked at me weirdly. "A date?"

"Would that be a problem?"

I smiled. "So very the no. I mean, not no to dinner. No to a problem. No at all to a problem. As in yes to dinner. Very the yes. I mean... I'm a spazz."

She pulled a business card from her pocket and pointed at the number. She's a county prosecutor: Tara Maclay.

I kind of rushed to grab one of my own from my super-organized bag. "Here's mine. See right here in the business-card pocket."

She looked at it with a smile. "Are you free tonight?"

I felt stupid but I had to grab my palm and check it. "Yes. Totally free. Where? When?" We set it up and she said she'd pick me up.