(Synopsis)
20-year-old Elena Gilbert has returned to Whitmore College for the second half of her fourth year. There she meets the handsome and mysterious Damon Salvatore. Immediately, Elena finds herself drawn to him by an unknown force. While it's obvious he's attracted to her, Damon tells her that he's not the kind of guy she wants. But as they get closer, Elena and Damon soon realize that they won't be able to fight their attraction forever. As Elena gets closer to Damon, she realizes there's a Dark streak to him, but just what secrets is the new guy hiding underneath that playboy exterior of his? Will they send Elena running, or will she stay?
ONE
I stare out of the foggy passenger window of my mother's silver sedan. It's nearly 5 o'clock in the morning here in Atlanta, Georgia. The dawn sky is a deep, rich navy blue as my mother drives on I-64 E. The lingering moonlight reflects brilliantly on the glossy surface of a nearby lake out the window. I catch sight of myself in the side view mirror and sigh with sadness. My chocolate brown hair flows in the moist wind, covering my olive-toned, heart-shaped face. Big brown eyes stare back at me, glass-like and wide. I immediately shake my head as I swallow back tears. No, I won't cry. I yank my head away from the mirror as if this will prevent my tears. I've gone the last two weeks without crying, though I can't say the same for my mother. For the past week, my mother has been more fragile than a glass, as it was my last week home before returning to Whitmore for my second semester of fourth year. I inhale deeply as I close my eyes. In the next seconds, I reopen them and bite my lip nervously. I decide that the best way to ignore my saddening thoughts is to plug in my CD player. I know these things are severely outdated, but I don't mind. If you ask me, I prefer to have an actual CD than downloading it off of iTunes. OneRepublic drowns out the noisy wind and I lean my head softly on my shoulder as I resume staring out the window.
It's about quarter to six when my mother pulls over to the curb of the drop-off zone. I take a deep breath, willing myself not to cry, and once I feel convinced that I won't, I climb out of the car, mildly tripping on the laces of my converse. I reach in and grab my rucksack from the floor and slide my arms through it. I shut the door weakly as I turn to the back seat of the car to retrieve my two grey suitcases, full of the clothes that my mom and Aunt Jenna had insisted I buy. I'm not one to invest a considerable amount of money on clothes, but any time she can, Jenna jumps at the chance to buy me a new wardrobe. And it's worse with Jenna in the shop. Put them together in a mall, and they'll Bonnie & Clyde the place before noon.
"Elena," my mother's strained voice catches my attention as I grab my second suitcase out of the back of the red Sudan. I close the back door and place my suitcases on the sidewalk and lean into the passenger window. I lift my head up to her climbing out of the driver's seat.
"Mom," I choke, and suddenly, her warm arms are around me in an embrace, and I literally clench my fists in attempt to remain calm. My mother tenderly rubs my back, and I close my eyes, surrendering myself to her gentleness.
"You have no idea how proud of you I am," she smiles as she pulls away, her eyes glossy with unshed tears. "And you know, your father would be here if he could-" As I feel the tears coming as I look at my mother and swallow. I've no doubt that I look exactly like her; watery brown eyes, puffy cheeks, flushed skin. The Gilbert Women Specialty.
"I know, Mom," I attempt to comfort her, placing my hand over hers. "Thanks for driving me to the airport." I smile through my unshed tears. If I don't leave now, I probably never will, or Niagara Falls will soon have nothing on me.
"Oh, Elena," her voice cracks, and I know what her unspoken words are.
"It was no trouble at all. I love you, and I'll miss you," she mouths, as her voice has disappeared.
"I love you, too," I breathe. Through the overhead intercoms, I hear several flights being called, and I the last flight I hear is mine. To Richmond.
Once the announcement ceases, my mother's arms loosen around me.
"You should go," she says softly with a smile. "Don't want to miss your flight."
"Bye, mom," I pull her in once again. I am sorely tempted to never let go, hop back in the car with her and go back home. But I need to do this. I've dreamt of going to Whitmore ever since I dreamt of being a writer. And if I walk away from it, I will regret it immensely. And I know the type of person that my mother is; she wouldn't drive away with me in the car. She knows that I need to do this. As I pull away from my mother, I quickly wipe my cheek with my sleeve. I stare into my mother's blue eyes.
"Call me when you land," she says as she caresses my cheek.
As I watch her walk back and hop into the car, I compose myself as haul my suitcases over onto the sidewalk. I watch the silver Sedan pull away from the curb. Once the taillights are just a memory, I make my way into the airport.
It's nearly six in the morning and the check-in line isn't too bad for a Wednesday morning. I wheel my suitcases over to the United line and stand behind a very PDA-invested couple. It takes about ten minutes for me to get up to front of the line. I dig out of my rucksack my ticket, my credit card and my driver's license
"I can help who's next!"
Immediately, I glance up to a blonde woman eyeing me down, and I quickly drag my suitcases to the service counter and a middle-aged man takes the first one and hauls it up on the conveyor belt for me.
"Thank you so much," I breathe as he hauls the second one up.
"No problem, ma'am," his green eyes twinkle.
"How can I help you?" the woman asks tiredly. Giving it is not even bright outside, I understand, otherwise I would consider her tone impolite.
"Um, hi. I need to get my boarding pass for flight 115 To JFK." I say. Immediately, she nods.
"If you could just give me a moment," she says, and immediately her fingers, as well as her attention, draw to the computer in front of her and she begins to type furiously. " I need to see your ticket and valid identification, ma'am," she says as she holds her hand out for my documents. I hastily her my ticket and driver's license and she resumes to her computer. I look around the airport and catch the clock. It's 5:52. I have about an hour until my takes off. I am mentally assessing if I have time to grab a bite to eat when the woman says, "Do you have any preference of seating, ma'am?" she asks as she hands the man who helped with my luggage the seals to tie to my bags. I watch absentmindedly as he slides them through the thick rubber flaps. As I feel a hole burning into my face, I turn to see her staring impatiently at me and I slowly digest her words.
"Sorry," I apologize. " No, thank you," I say. Without hesitation, she hastily glances back at the screen. "Okay, Ms. Gilbert, you're all set." she smiles unconvincingly and holds out my driver's license, credit card, ticket and boarding pass. I mumble a 'thank you' to her, taking my belongings from her.
"Next," she calls. God, I'm not even done grabbing my documents as the next person moves up behind me. Ignoring her impatient and dull attitude, I head over to security.
"Ladies and gentlemen, as we start our descent, please make sure your seat backs and tray tables are in their full upright position. Make sure your seat belt is securely fastened and all carry-on luggage is stowed underneath the seat in front of you or in the overhead bins. Please turn off all electronic devices until we are safely parked at the gate. Thank you,"
As I finish a chapter of my chosen novel companion, Pride & Prejudice, I place the flap in position, and close the book and stow it in my bag. Siting up, I close my tray table, and stare out at the city that is Richmond, VA. It's been nearly three weeks since I've back here. I groan inwardly as I recall Caroline, one of my roommates, already selecting a whole set of movies for us and our other roommate Bonnie to watch. I'm not a big socialite, but I do enjoy Care and Bonnie, even though they can be very intrusive and cheery. Suddenly, I am reminded that Caroline is arriving in from L.A., so she wouldn't be in Richmond yet. As she is getting in around the same time as me, we have agreed to carpool and as I am about to pull my phone out, I remember that all electronic devices need to be switched off now. I'll call her when I land.
Once the plane is on ground and the final announcement is made, I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach under my seat for my bag. Thankfully, no one sat on either side of me, so I have an easier access to the departing aisle. I merge into the line and wait patiently for my turn to exit the plane, and smile when I spot a young boy screaming at his mother over the long line. I am now at the front and feel a gust of bitter air as I step out of the plane and into the terminal. Immediately, I zip up my pale blue hoodie and hug myself until I reach the inside of the airport. It's overwhelmingly loud after such an early flight and the aroma of cinnamon and sausage surrounds me. I throw my rucksack over my shoulder and head straight to baggage claim and spot the fifth carousel labeled "ATLANTA-FLIGHT 115" and wait patiently for my two suitcases. I spot them and haul one at a time to the side. As I am about to haul my second, someone else grabs it for me.
"Excuse me, but that's my-" I say and turn to face the person who has taken my suitcase. And I blink in shock.
It's Caroline.
"Surprise!" Caroline grins, taking me in a big hug as I laugh.
"Oh, my god!" I smile back. "How are you?" I ask as she releases me, and I'm hit in the face with shock as I notice how tan she is. Then again, she is from California. "When did you get in?" I add. She smiles, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder.
"Not too long ago," she sighs. "I was just about to call you when I saw you over here," she tells me.
"So, how was your flight?" I ask. Immediately, Caroline moans, and I giggle. For anyone else, it would've been tolerable, but for Caroline...
"I'll take that as 'bad'" I giggle. Caroline scoffs as she waves her hand in front of me.
"Please., bad doesn't even begin to describe the fact that I had to sit next to a loud and obnoxious girl on the phone with her boyfriend," she splutters.
"Oh, baby, I am going to miss you so much," she mimics as she wrinkles her nose. "Oh, I want you hear with me right now. I wish you were with me.' It was sickening."
"Oh, that's too bad," I bite my lip, trying to hide my grin, but Caroline notices. "
What's so funny?" she snaps.
"Nothing," I smile. Seeing her glare, I confess.
"I was all alone in my row," I sigh, and she gives me an envious look. I realize that we are standing in the middle of the hall, blocking people. I quickly grab my suitcases and Caroline follows me as I walk towards car rentals.
"Lucky you," she murmurs. Desperate to change subject, I'm reminded that she never told me what kind of car her parents had rented for us.
"So, what kind of car did your parents rent for us?" I ask. Caroline's mom and dad are in the enforcement, so she's got the money. Her parents have arranged for a car to drive us from the airport to our apartment.
"I don't know, they wouldn't tell me," Caroline pouts. I nod, dismissing the topic.
"Oh, my god," Caroline stops suddenly, and I nearly tumble over onto the ground as I ram into her.
"What?" I ask, panicked. Did she forget something? She smiles up at me. I groan. I hate it when she makes me worry like that.
"You'll never guess what I heard," she grins, a mysterious gleam in her eye.
"What did you hear?" I ask, genuinely interested in the gossip she was about to tell. Some gossip, which, in Caroline's mind, is juicier than the celebrity stuff. Plus, Whitmore is pretty social, so anything and everything gets around quicker than a the Millennium Falcon on light speed.
"So I heard that the Dean's incredibly hot son is going to be attending Whitmore this year!" she squeals as if she's just said Ryan Gosling showed up shirtless at her door last night. Immediately, I burst out laughing.
"And where do you get your information, Miss Forbes?" I tease.
"A little birdie named Rebekah Mikaelson" she says. Oh, of course. Rebekah, the ultimate gossip/flirt. has indeed been on campus for the past four weeks, and she, being incredibly popular, has heard about this rumor and spread it as if her life had depended on it. It's no wonder she's majoring in Journalism. Surely, if he's attractive, Rebekah will no doubt have her wicked way with him. Though the rules strictly prohibit any sort of relations with the faculty, and surely those rules are amplified for family of the faculty, i.e. the Dean. Although, I have no doubt that Rebekah will both ignore and find her way around the rules.
"Caroline Forbes: Are you going to dare chase after the Dean's son? The ultimate no-no?" I feign shock. Caroline bursts out in a fit of laughter.
"Maybe," she winks. Just as I am about to ask what his name is, we reach the car rentals. Lexi stops and asks me to watch the suitcases as she goes to get the car.
Bright, electric blue eyes hidden behind tousled, raven hair meet mine, and I suddenly swallow at the intensity of their gaze. A man, probably about a couple years older to four years older than me at the least, stands in front of me, I realize with complete embarrassment that I'm still touching his hand. Immediately, I snatch it away, surely the effect of awkwardness blowing through the roof. I suddenly find my gaze aiming at a perfectly sculptured mouth, but am brought back when it's owner speaks to me.
"Excuse me," he clears his throat, "but did you drop this?" he asks, holding my wallet. Oh, my god. I hadn't even noticed it was gone. I check my bag hastily and surely, my brown leather wallet is missing.
"Oh, god. Yes," I sigh in relief as I take it from him. Our hands touch for a millisecond, and my eyes dart to his. When he doesn't look away from me, I feel my cheeks heat. "Thank you," I say, relieved.
"Damon Salvatore," he grins, offering his hand. I look down at it for a moment before taking it, and when I do, I'm met with the alien spark of electricity that courses through my veins.
"So, Whitmore, huh?" he asks.
Wait... how did he know I was going to Whitmore?
"I saw it on your suitcase," he mutters, pointing to my suitcase as if explaining his unusual prying.
"Yeah," I nod. "Last year," I explain. He nods, and a small smile plays on his lips.
"Same," he says. "The college part, anyways. What are you majoring in?"
"Creative Writing," I tell him. "You?"
"Business,"
"Wow, that's intense," I say, impressed.
"It's in the family," he shrugs.
Just as I'm about to ask where he's from, I catch Caroline approaching in the corner of my eye, a look of suspicion plastered on her face
"Well, hello there," she stretches her hand out, batting her long lashes. "Caroline Forbes," she grins. Damon smiles, but doesn't seem to mean it. He looks at me again. I see Caroline's confused face as he doesn't seem to be interested in her.
"So, I better go..." he mutters. " Caroline suddenly shakes her head.
"Oh, wait!" she says, holding out her finger. "Can I have your number?" she asks.
Wait, what?
Damon hesitates, looking at me, but Caroline continues.
"Oh, don't worry. I will make sure she calls you," she waves her hand in my direction.
Oh. My. God. Caroline!
"I'm so sorry," I mouth to him. As he and I look at each other, I see him considering her, and I'm surprised to see him return.
"Sure," he smiles, then looks at me again. "Can I see your phone?" he asks. Oh, this is the way we exchange phone numbers now. Right. I must learn to keep up with technology. I hand him my phone.
"Here," he hands me his hi-tech iPhone 5s.
I rest my case.
As I enter my phone number, I vaguely wonder if these even been released yet. Damon hands me my phone back as I finish with his.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," he grins at me, and I feel my heart suddenly speed.
Wow...
"Oh, it's Elena Gilbert," I say. Damon grins and bends down to grab his duffle-bag.
"Caroline," he nods at her, then looks at me. "Elena," he grins, "May I suggest you keep better track of your wallet," he smirks, and then is gone.
I'm still staring at him and as Caroline walks in front of me with that you-so-like-him-look, I snap out of it.
"Oh, my god," she breathes. "You so like him," she says.
I shake my head. "No, no, no, no," I lie. "I've only just met him, how can I like him?" I scoff. "Besides, odds are I'll never see him again,"
"Not if you ignore the number burning a hole in your purse," Caroline raises an eyebrow at me, and I shake my head.
"Okay, we'll whether or not you like him, he definitely likes you," She grins.
"I met him in an airport, Caroline," I remind her. "It's nothing." I tell her, though I know that she's still shipping it. Despite whatever she's conjuring in her dirty mind, I will never see him again.
"Elena! Caroline!" Bonnie squeals, her amber eyes glittering as she pulls us both into a tight hug. "Finally, I've been waiting for the two of you!" she smiles, holding up an elegant, silver dress. She flips her raven hair to the side. Caroline's eyes suddenly gleam with the same streak present in Bonnie's.
"Oh, now you're talking!" Caroline raises her hand in the air, which Bonnie meets with her own palm. I moan, walking into my room with my suitcase, trailed by both of them.
"Come on, Elena!" Bonnie wails. Suddenly, I feel her foot kick mine. "We're going out," she says firmly. "To celebrate."
I sigh as I roll over onto my back, facing the two of them.
"We just got here, Bonnie," I say. Caroline steps in front of Bonnie, shaking her head. "Exactly. We just got here." she says placing her hands on her hips.
"We have to go out! It's our first night back, and we need to socialize," Caroline exclaims as she throws her hands in the air.
"Okay, fine," I surrender, running my hands through my hair. Fighting Caroline solo and winning is possible; fighting her and Bonnie? Impossible. Caroline claps her hands gleefully.
"Oh, thank you, thank you!" she cries, and I look up to see the two of them jumping in the air with excitement. How old are we? I fall onto my bed. I see Caroline come stand over me.
"Were going to make you look irresistible," she says with a wicked voice.
"Its really loud!" I shout to Caroline over the upbeat dance music. She has been dancing with her boyfriend, Tyler Lockwood, for half of the time we've been here. She shoots a look of confusion at me. "it's really loud!" I shout again, raising my voice. She shrugs and then waves her hand dismissively, lacing her arms around Tyler's neck. I throw my hands over my shoulders. I give up! Deciding to settle for a small beverage, I wander over to the bar and pull out my ID.
"And what can I get you, beautiful?"
I don't even have my wallet out before I hear the bartender in front of me. I glance up, and a young, attractive man with blonde hair stares at me through hooded eyes, and I suddenly cross my arms over my exposed chest.
"I just need a couple glasses of Margarita, please," I say as I hand over my ID and credit card, but instead of taking them, he winks at me.
"Consider it on the house, beautiful," he says, and I swallow. I'm not so used to this in-your-face kind of attention, and I brush off his attempts.
"Thank you," I say, and suddenly, I jump as I feel a tap on my shoulder.
"Matt," I sigh, relieved. "You scared me,"
"Sorry," he shouts as he hops up on the barstool. "I just couldn't stand to watch Caroline and Tyler any longer," he makes a disgusted face, and i turn my head over to see Caroline and Tyler dancing in such confined space you'd think that hey were stuck in a shower together. I immediately sympathize for Matt. He and Caroline had had a very brief fling over the summer before sophomore year. Caroline wasn't really as into it as he was. I'm lucky that they managed to stay friends, otherwise i'd be playing psychiatrist.
"Yeah, that's a bit," I sigh as I take my drink and swallow it hole. I don't hesitate to reach for the second shot.
"Woah, Elena," Matt chuckles as I slam the second shot glass onto the mahogany bar. "Don't get hammered,"
"Trust me," I tell him, my head suddenly fuzzing. "I'm fine,"
As I slide off of the barstool, I stumble my way to the bathroom.
Fruity aroma slaps me in the face as i enter the bathroom. The Britney Spears music still pounds inside my head and I feel dizzy as I enter a stall. I'm in and out in two minutes, but I stop to look at myself in the mirror. Caroline has gone overboard tonight. Like Hollywood Film Festival overboard. My hair is in spirals, a little shorter than it is when it's straight. She applied dark gray shadow on my eyelids, and my lips are puffy and a glossy rosy pink. My cheeks have matching blush, and I look like a model. I can barely walk in these stilettos of Lexi's, and my golden sequin top is too short. My black skinny jeans are hugging my legs tightly. I laugh at the ridiculous girl in the mirror. Deciding I'm going to vomit if I continue to gaze at myself, I grab my bag and open the door. As I close the door slowly, though I don't know why, as the music is far too loud for it's booming slam to be heard, I trip and fall on my face. This is why I never wear heels. I look up and no one seems to have noticed. I am just on my knees when someone's hands are on my shoulders helping me up.
"Woah," he says, chucking. "Are you alright?" he asks, concerned.
"Hey, maybe she's drunk, man," I hear another man's voice. "Maybe you ought to take her home and...you know," the strange voice snorts obnoxiously.
Wait.
I know that voice.
No...
"Shut up, man," the guy who helped me up scolds. "Have you been drinking?" he asks, looking anxiously at me. I completely ignore the man in front of me as I look up at the group of men by the wall. And my suspicion is confirmed as I'm met with the electric gaze of Damon Salvatore.
When he catches my gaze, his laughter immediately ceases. I swallow. I watch sideways as he jumps off of the ledge and walks up to me.
"Oh, my god," he breathes, more to himself than to anyone else.
"What?" asks the other guy.
"I know her," he says quietly, his eyes wide as they meet mine.
"You do?" asks the other guy, shocked.
"Yeah, Enzo, I do," he snaps, and I'm suddenly in front of a complete stranger as the cold tone escapes from Damon's mouth.
"How?" Enzo asks. Damon takes my chin, forcing me to look into his eye.
"We met at the airport," he tells Enzo.
"Elena," Damon says. I look up, hazed.
"What?" I smile, giggling.
"Damn it," he snaps. "She's drunk,"
"Well, how old is she?" Enzo asks.
"I don't know," Damon says, and he's making his anger well. "She's in her fourth year her at Whitmore."
"I can take her home," Enzo offers.
Hmm. I'll settle for that.
Suddenly, a thought crosses my mind.
"No...Care...Bon..." I sigh, not having the strength to tell them that I'm not alone. I have no idea where they are. This place is too big
"I'll come with you," Damon says, and my eyes widen in shock.
Wait, what?
"Alright," mutters Enzo. "I'll grab my keys," he says and goes to the table to retrieve his jacket.
"I can walk," I slur, but Damon shakes his head.
"Elena, you can't even stand," he scolds, and I suddenly feel as if I'm being treated like a disobedient child. Can he let go of me? I struggle to get out of his hold, but he tightens his grip, plus: I'm too drunk to fight.
"Oh, no," he chuckles darkly, and I think he's enjoying my struggle. "You're drunk. You're not going anywhere.," he orders.
Excuse me? I may be drunk, but I am not about to be bossed around like some disobedient child. Where is Caroline? I haven't seen her or the others anywhere.
"I'm not a child and you don't need to treat me that way," I say bitterly.
"If your under the legal drinking age, then yes, you are," he snaps.
"I'm in college!" I hiss. "I'm not in high school,"
"Enzo, check her wallet for her license," Damon hollers.
"Okay," Enzo sighs, and I feel him dig into my purse and fish out my license. I let out a whimper once I see it in his hands.
"Here," Enzo sighs. Damon takes my license and I moan.
"Well, well, well," he scolds, eyeing my driver's license. "Your were born in '92," he sighs. "Which makes you twenty, which is under the legal drinking age," he says.
"Leave me alone," I slur.
"Dude, she's not looking too great..." Enzo says, and just then, I feel a wave of nausea hit.
"Get her outside," Damon snaps Suddenly, I feel arms slide underneath my arms, and Damon is helping me walk out. Through my blurred vision, I make out Enzo in front, leading us out of the bar.
"No," I gasp. Caroline... "My friends.." I sigh. I need to find them, but I don't have the strength to.
"You can call them from the car," Damon says.
"Please..." I breathe, and I trip onto the ground.
"Pull the car around," Damon hollers to Enzo. Will nods and runs out the door, and Damon bends down to me. "So much for the girl I met at the airport," he scolds. I look up into his fierce blue gaze. "Like you can talk," I snap. He sighs, and scoops me up into his arms. No. I can't go.
But darkness consumes me.
"So what do we do now?"
I hear Enzo's voice. Who is he talking to?
"I guess we will just have to take her to my place," A snappy voice growls.
Damon...
"Dude, chill down," Enzo says cautiously.
"Chill down?" Damon laughs coldly, and goosebumps form on my arms from the chill in his tone.
"Yes," Enzo replies gruffly.
"I have a complete stranger the back seat of the car who is heavily drunk, and under the legal drinking age," he snaps. "And you tell me to 'chill down'?" He's angry.
"If she is such a complete stranger, why are you worried about her getting arrested. Hell, why do you care at all?"
I don't hear a response as I drift under again.
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