Chance Encounter

By: Nicole Lopez

No Story Here: Bonnie

Summary: A series of one shots devoted to exploring the characters Bonnie and Jacob … sometimes together and sometimes with other people like Leah!! I really want to explore every possible type of relationship there is and show the dynamics of a male-female bond beyond (but not excluding) the boundaries of crushes, sex and romantic comedy endings. This is just an experiment for me since I can't seem to commit to one story and keep up the motivation and writer's block fast enough for you guys. And if you want to see where, to goes give me your opinion. Nothing takes away the inspiration more than to see a story with little to no reviews. It takes forever to write this so show your appreciation!! Or hate … whatever. –NL)

(A/N: Semi-stream of consciousness and semi-random ramblings… --)

This is not a story. No seriously. I'm not joking. If you think you're going to spend the next twenty minutes of your life reading some fantastic tale about vampires and werewolves and love … then you're wrong. That has nothing to do with me, at least not anymore.

Really, it was never my story to tell. It was Elena's and her love triangle that was forming even before she could see it. I could see it. But if you want the story on that one, talk to her and check out her autobiography.

This one is about me. And who am I? For starters, I should tell you that my name is Bonnie Bennet and besides where my parents come from and growing up in Mystic Falls, I can't really tell you that much about who I am either. I'm constantly reminded of who I'm not whenever I go places with Elena and Caroline.

They're like the sugar and spice thing and I'm just white rice. No seriously. In our pre-vamp days whenever we used to go out, the guys would scope out Caroline, if they wanted a quickie or a one-night stand, and Elena if they wanted a relationship.

If they ever talked to me, which rarely happened, they would be asking about one of my girlfriends. And I'd play the kind friend and give them the info back when I really wanted one of them to take notice of me. I guess I can blame my parents for picking the whitest community to live in.

If it were any whiter, we'd be back in the old south where Confederate flags and ignorant minds ruled but … Mystic Falls won't be resorting back to that anytime soon.

But in case you're wondering, my skin color isn't the topic of discussion either. I wouldn't have even known that I was different or *gasp* black until I kept getting comments about Oreos and crap. I wasn't 'really' black because I didn't "act black" … but I wasn't white enough to any of the neighborhood boys to notice me.

See now I'm just rambling on and going in circles and watch … a few lines later I will probably go back to it again—the fact that I am black and that I have no love life because of it.

But maybe that's not the fair thing to say. My color isn't really the problem. The problem is that I'm like a bird without wings. It's like one day I was flitting around in the air, full of purpose and intention and in one moment someone just sliced my life force out of me and I started dropping.

And dropping.

And dropping.

And I fell, hard.

That's what watching someone die feels like. Grams was like the extra arm I never knew I had, the 6th sense that I had long forgotten, the appendix that suddenly found its usage within me, only to be removed permanently.

And before you dismiss me as some naïve teenager who has never experienced a real emotion in her life, that's not me. I've had people die before. Many have walked into my life and out through the doors of death, but no one as profound as she.

And I was just starting to open up …

No. This story isn't going to be some depressing garbage that makes you want to stick your head in an oven because life is just too damn hard, too damn sad, and just too … damn, I lost my train of thought.

My point is, if I even really have one, is that I am so lost.

I can barely tell if I'm moving forwards or just repeating things from my past. And even though I am on my way out of Mystic Falls, I can feel it following me or rather wearing me like a thick, itchy blanket. I can imagine Damon's ill-intentioned eyes launching themselves towards me and taunting me.

I can see Stefan silently beckoning me to help Elena and I can see her confiding in me before ever asking if I need to talk to her first, just once.

Call me selfish for thinking that.

I should be grateful to have a friend to share a secret with. I should be all these different things, but I'm just some insecure girl. Some girl who is shamefully almost eighteen years old and no closer to losing her virginity than to sharing a genuine caress, a kiss of love with someone.

Anyone.

That's how desperate I am.

My thoughts consume my surroundings and it is only the shifting and constant movement next to me that makes me realize that I am not alone. I am not.

There is someone sitting beside me now, someone else who will play their little part in my journey here and then walk off to be forgotten again. I glance at the person next to me who is more like a culmination of everything a girl like me could never have.

He is muscular yet not overly so, friendly but serious and … smiling at me?

I want to turn around like an idiot to make sure he's not just bidding someone farewell from the train station. I instead pop out my mp3 player, since my parents are too frugal for an iPod, and put on some tunes to droneout my bleeding thoughts.

Meiko pops into my ears singing of her newfound revelations, of her misguided love for a guy who didn't deserve it. At least she had gotten that far. I closed my eyes, to close out the bustling noise around me, and most of all the guy who would've chosen Elena if she was here.

As the song got to the chorus, the guy next to me tapped my shoulder. My eyes flung open and I tried not to look annoyed. My eyebrows rose instead, proving inefficient at masking my surprise. He tilted a bag of potato chips my way, but I shoved them back with a polite smile.

The guy shrugged, opened the bag and started munching. As soon as I thought I was rid of him, he got my attention again, this time showing me a host of magazines. I smiled when reading some of the titles, writing the dude off as a total tool and puerile at best.

My grin widened once I saw an issue of CosmoGirl with Raven Symone and Zoe Saldana on the cover. Since when did they not put the classic yet boring and all too common tanned blonde on the front? Noticing my interest, he allowed me to take the magazine as I started to open it.

Eagerly, my eyes went the table of contents to find the articles about these two women. On the way I passed ads on hair straightening techniques, whitening teeth and interracial relationships but none of them caught my eye.

It had been at least ten minutes of me being engulfed in the article before I noticed that the guy seemed to be eyeing me, interested. Oh, so he was one of those types … you know, the guys who watch movies like Something New and start to get ideas about black women.

I pretended not to notice until I was done reading and he tapped my shoulder again. This time, I turned the music down.

"How was the article?"

"Good." I answered. "Thanks." Curtness was a virtue in my book when it came to situations like these. I was hoping dude would get the picture and leave it alone.

"My sister likes that one too." I nodded, about to up the volume. "What are you listening to?"

I was already anticipating this kid's next move. He was going to ask to listen and I wasn't in the mood to make this trip any less pleasant than it already was. "Here." I responded, handing him one of the earphones. Dude took it eagerly and started grinning.

When I realized that I had looped the music on Meiko's CD, I could see why. The final line of the song ended, 'you and onions make me cry…'

Now, I really felt like an idiot, but I left it alone and instantly recognized the next song. Boys with Girlfriends.

Jacob spoke at this point. "My sister loves this girl too … Meiko."

Subtly was never my strength. I usually came off as standoffish, shy, abrasive or … awkward.

"Why do you keep talking to me?"

"I saw you sitting here alone and I like meeting new people."

"Or are you just scoping out some out-of-state booty?" I wondered bluntly. There it was. Today my mood was acerbic.

"No." He laughed. "I'm not from around here either. I'm from Forks and … we're headed to Seattle."

"I'm sorry about that." I looked down embarrassed, glad that today I had my glasses to hide behind. I always wore them when I didn't want to be seen, and on really long trips…

"No worries." I watched the small, almost invisible mole on the corner of his mouth move with the curve of his smile. I clasped my hands together and decided to take the plunge … it wasn't really a plunge, I just wanted to make this whole thing sound more dramatic.

The guy talked and talked to me about where he was from, his family … and I somehow started talking about myself too. We found ourselves giggling and really hitting it off.

But there was something I forgot to ask him. I was here exposing very personal things about myself to a complete stranger, which was an adventure and a victory for me. As the conversation continued to flow without restraint or awkwardness, we both got so wrapped up in what was going on that we both almost missed our stop.

"I guess this is it." He looked at me remorsefully as I tried to stop the stream of thoughts from coming to my mind. I was seriously thinking about this guy, crushing on him after only knowing him for a few hours.

But it would never work. Even though he seemed genuine, he had some underlying reason for his kindness. I could see beyond his guiseof amenity since years growing up the way I did taught me not to be so easily beguiled by a pretty face.

And was this guy's face ever what I was looking for. He wasn't a typical white guy with over-dyed and fried hair and an abnormally thin nose. His nose was wide, what some would call big and his eyes small yet full of life and warmth. His is skin glowed like a delicious golden brown. Damn.

I was enchanted by this guy. I let him say his goodbyes, watching his muscles through the clear, almost transparent white fitted shirt he had chosen to wear. If this half of his body looked this good clothed, I could only imagine … just like always.

"Nice to meet you." I waved off, trying to hand him the CosmoGirl magazine.

"Keep it." He lightly placed his hand on my shoulder as I stared at him waiting for him to make a move and kiss me. Do it. I beckoned silently. I wanted some redemption from kissing that stupid ex-football player turned evil vampire.

I wanted to not play the role of the fool. I deserved to be the heroine, the one wrapped in a secret love affair. So what if it didn't bring back my wings of purpose? So what if I still roamed around confused about which way was which?

I would have his strong arms to guide me, protect me. And if he did, I would be totally caught up. Kiss me. Kiss me.

"Need help with your things?" He wondered, as I nodded like a deaf mute. He gave me another huge smile and lifted the luggage from its top compartment with ease. And I knew how heavy that stuff was and what I had to go through to get it up there.

"Thanks." I stood up close to him, now within leaning distance from kissing him. I wasn't going to be a fool this time and just go for it. I was waiting for him to do it. Go on. The guy moved closer to me and closer and just when I thought it was going to happen … I felt short hands and extreme heat covering my back. I almost jumped away in surprise, but the sensation left once his hands no longer touched me. It was a hug.

I stared at him expectantly as he smirked back at me.

"Bye." He waved suddenly, breaking our glance. I begrudginglywatched him leave and then proceeded to chuck my stuff out of the train to be picked up by my great-aunt on my mother's side, Aunt Isoke.

My disappointment only heightened while waiting for her. I tried not to try and search for his large figure in the crowd, but I saw it … and it was heading for Forks, Washington just like he said. I sighed, fingering the magazine, the only trace of our encounter, in my hands.

It could very well be that I imagined the whole thing and had picked up the magazine from a newsstand. I had done that before. Once, my vivid dream about my dad dying in a fire had me hysterical. It took days to calm me down.

And being involved in the mystical world it was easy to let the illogical rule my mind. I closed my eyes for a moment, convinced that my utter desperation had created such a false and cruel encounter. Damn.

I opened my eyes and shook my head, still holding the magazine until I realized that it wasn't a regular off-the-shelf periodical … it had an address on it and a name … 'Rachel Black…' I skimmed the label to see that this had come from Forks, Washington and that there was a very real possibility that I would be able to find this guy.

He had said he had a sister named Rachel. I tried to commit the address to memory only to recognize that the first two numbers had been cut off. Oh cruel, cruel fate … I cursed it only to remember that I could find him without it. I was a witch. And if I wanted to, I could see him again, I would see him again … I could feel it.

(A/N: I get so tired of writing about girls who think the only thing worth living life is to be permanently glued to a guy but … I think I did it again. I really had no direction in this story, so I fell back on something familiar. And I really didn't want to delve in the Gramsdeath thing because death is way too real and irreversible … it's too real to me to be made into fiction. I hope this was at the very least intriguing and I guess that subconsciously I'll keep making Bonnie-Jacob fics until I get it right. And I've already written another one-shot and half of another … I just want to explore different scenarios related to my faves … Jacob and Bonnie. –NL)