A/N: Thanks for the lovely reviews. I'm trying to get back into a writing style so bare with me. Also noticing there isn't much in the way of Bonenzo out there, hey? I hope that changes soon. This pairing needs more love.

A couple of weeks had now passed since their informal arrangement had found itself some structure. Both participants unwilling to admit that they had grown past the point of casual acquaintances, and had formed a need to be near the other. The two non-consecutive nights they had been apart made the following days dull, missing their recently added lustre, and yet they both seemed content to refuse pursuing any alternatives.

Their nights, however, were no longer solely of alcohol and melancholy - although the change to the former was due to Bonnie worrying that she would end up an alcoholic if she tried to keep up with Enzo. They had also found a new venue. A bar within walking distance from her campus, yet far enough away that it was regularly quite empty. The decor probably contributed, peeling wallpaper and a kitschy mix of both 70's and 80's memorabilia strewn across the walls in no particular pattern. The best part? It closed at 10pm, Monday to Thursday, which allowed Enzo to compel the staff into leaving him the job of locking up.

Their new private sanctuary had afforded them hours of time together, turning the darkest part of the night into the brightest. Bonnie had confided early on that while she missed a lot of things in her life, not having her best friend to talk to was something she was struggling with. It was the time alone with Damon that made her really appreciate him, and the days he would let her vent a week's worth of frustration at a time. Matt was often volatile now and Caroline, well she had her own problems coming to terms with being a vampiric incubator. And this is where Enzo came in.

He was a good listener; he could admit that after years of practice. Damon, for all his faults, was also good company when he wasn't pining over someone. His support had made a lasting impression on Bonnie, who would often reference him with an appreciation in her eyes that would cause a pang of jealousy in Enzo he would brush off as quickly as it came on. He had done his own time with Damon but Bonnie - she was a vast improvement on former company. What started as an accompaniment to his loneliness had turned from a friendship to a need. He was starting to become addicted to her.

Sadly, he knew that he'd have to start distancing himself soon as to avoid the attachment meaning more to him than it did to her. Decades of physical and emotional torture had convinced him that the ideal of happiness, of love, were nothing more than marketing ploys. A construct sold to the masses through well written poetry and emotionally manipulative TV ad's at Christmas time. It was in his best interest to pull away just before he was proved right, yet again, leaving whatever trace of hope he was clinging onto intact. But not yet, not tonight. Tonight he would indulge and they would forget everything waiting for them beyond these four walls with flirtatious banter and biting retorts. He'd hold on to this until just before his breaking point, because what man could willingly let Bonnie Bennett go for anything less?

She was perched on a stool in front of him, as he poured one scotch and a tall glass of sparkling mineral water with a twist of lime. He threw a small towel over his shoulder and passed her the water, before picking up his own glass and tapping it against hers. They both took a sip and she smiled at him as she set her drink down.

"You should consider this for your next career move."

He grinned. "You think? I could see myself making a life behind here. Leaving at the end of the night with a few cheeky shots in my stomach and a woman of questionable morals on my arm." He leaned in closer and lowered his voice, "My shift finishes in an hour, if you're interested?"

"Wait, "she narrowed her eyes, "are you calling me a woman with questionable morals?"

"You've been spending your free time with the local riff-raff of late; I dare say that warrants the accusation, love."

"Touché," she replied, tilting her glass in agreement.

Drinks in hand, they moved to the pool table. Darts had initially been their sport of choice but it took far more energy for him to miss than with pool. She was also pretty good, and when she won she would make this excited squeal at the back of her throat that he almost lived for now. He lost a small piece of his heart to her each time she did it.

"What do you say we make this interesting?" she asked, pulling a cue from the wall and over-chalking the end on the small blue square hanging from the table.

"Go on," he replied, while collecting his own cue.

"For every turn we win, that player gets to ask the other a question, and it has to be answered with complete honesty," He looked at her blankly so she added," 'Truth or Dare' but without the dare."

The corners of his mouth lifted. The clever minx had an agenda and he was intrigued.

"I've never been one to back down from a challenge."

His distinct advantage meant he would be in control for the majority of the game. Still, he figured it was in his best interest to encourage her to sink as many balls in a single turn as possible.

Out of nothing but the kindness of his heart he always let her break. The reward for his chivalrous act was the view as he stood behind her and appreciated her 'form' leaning forward to make her shot. She knew just what to arch to get his attention too, and he would often tell her that he was far too distracted to play after she completed her turn. Today he tried - and failed - to watch how many balls she had taken in her break, but a count of the table said she had managed to sink around 3.

"I'll play stripes...perv," she teased.

He noted that stripes had the most balls on the table.

Before taking her next shot she removed her long sleeved jacket to reveal a loose fitting grey tank top. Thinking nothing of it, he was caught off guard as she intentionally over-reached to make an easy shot, revealing that at that angle it exposed a bright magenta bra. He could see her trying to catch his reaction in her peripheral and he started to shake his head, smirking.

"Now how am I supposed to concentrate?"

"You'll manage," she grinned, satisfied with her performance.

She took her second shot, aiming for the single ball rather than the easy multi-ball shot on the other side. It went in and she walked around the table slowly, teasing him as she mulled over which question to start with. He could tell that she knew exactly what she was going to ask, but he appreciated the performance.

"Okay, here it is - what did you see in Lily that made you attracted to her?"

"Pass," he answered, flatly.

"'Never one to back down from a challenge', huh? Man up and answer the question."

He ground his teeth, trying to make his face as expressionless as possible.

"I've told you already, she had a way of making me feel like I was wanted. And when you spend most of your immortal life not being anyone's second thought, it can mean more to you than it should. That's it."

She nodded her head in acknowledgement of his answer, but still seemed to want more.

"So, it wasn't anything physical?" she pressed.

"When you've lived as long as I have you learn that physical appearance is a minor factor."

She seemed satisfied, but also like she hadn't expected the answer. When she deliberately missed her shot he knew she was changing her strategy. He stepped up, and considered sinking the 8 ball, but there was a delicate question of his own that he had wanted to ask for a while. The game hadn't worked its way there just yet so he tanked, taking down two of his balls and one of hers. She looked annoyed as she watched her ball dissapear off the table

"Sink one of mine and you lose your turn."

He smiled in quiet surrender.

She managed to make another single shot, then stood quietly on the other side of the table, watching him like a cat eyeing an unsuspecting bird.

"So, if it wasn't physical, then it had to be something pretty deep. Which means it's going to take you a while to get over, correct?"

He was regretting not sinking that 8 ball.

"No, it hasn't, because I am over it. You seem to think this is my first taste of rejection."

"I just want to know that if you were to keep an open mind, going forward, that you wouldn't be on the rebound, that you'd be looking…for…something. A new start. For you. That you'd be open to happiness, for yourself. No one else."

Her face twisted in annoyance at her rambling but she composed herself to hear his answer.

"There really is nothing to get over. Once a lone vamp, forever lone vamp. Anyway, I don't have time for romance. My focus is on my bartending career now."

His joke fell flat and she looked frustrated.

"You are a hopeless case," she said with a sigh, before missing her shot.

"It's your turn. Don't sink any more of my balls."

A part of him knew the point she was trying to make, but he still couldn't be sure. It would jeopardise too much to ask outright. He had made a habit out of ruining all of his relationships, and she was not someone he wanted to lose because of a misunderstanding. Instead, he decided to lighten the mood.

"If you were to create a Tinder profile for me, what would it say?"

It seemed to work as she tried to look angry but a smile crept across her lips.

"You can ask me anything, anything you want, and that's what you come up with?"

He moved in front of her, smirk in place, and offered a simple shrug of his shoulders. She laughed and leaned against the table, carefully constructing the blurb in her mind.

"Okay, are you ready?" she cleared her throat, "Annoying, sometimes blunt and always impatient; but don't worry, ladies, it all gets lost in a dreamy British accent and deep brown eyes. Drinks often, makes this annoying smirk even more. A good conversationalist when he's not busy brooding. Preferences – MILF's & Twilight fans."

He laughed a real laugh. One that came from deep in his chest. It was rare for the both of them, and he saw her beaming proudly at her handy work when he eventually stopped. He was genuinely impressed.

"You forgot to mention my chiselled physique, comparable to a marble statue of an ancient deity."

She rolled her eyes, "No, I didn't."

"And here I thought you just wanted me for my body when it was my brilliant mind all along."

"The body is fine; it's the mouth I could do without."

He leaned forward, his lips at her ear, and said in a low voice, "Trust me, love - that's one of the best parts."

She paused briefly, then burst out laughing. They were the only people who could make each other laugh like this at the moment and he took great pride in it when he did. Allowing her to collect herself he poured another round of the same drinks. A second clink of their glasses and he was ready to continue his turn. He made it - of course- and decided it was time to ask the one question he really wanted to know.

"List of all of your bedroom suitors in alphabetical order. Go."

"Pass."

"Okay, fair enough. If you can't handle the game then maybe we should just stop…"

She glared at him and snatched his drink out of his hand, taking a sip.

"Fine. Gilbert, Jeremy."

"Of course," he nodded, "and…"

"And, that's it. List done. Hurry up and finish your turn."

He genuinely wasn't expecting that.

"Wait a minute," he started, his face brow furrowed, "I'm supposed to believe that you've only slept with that oversized puppy-dog?"

"It's what I said, isn't it?" she answered, visibly self-conscious.

"Even when it was just you and Damon in –"

"YES. Even then. Wait, I mean, especially then!"

He settled next to her, eyes fixed on nothing in particular on the table, and took his drink out of her hand before taking a sip. It was petty, but he felt such a strange sense of elation to hear her answer, having wondered due to the high regard she had for Damon seemingly out of nowhere. He also couldn't understand how someone could spend so much time alone with her and not fall in love, or at the very least, lust. He tried to downplay his reaction with the first thing that came into his head.

"So many wasted opportunities," he exclaimed.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Hey, if you want to sleep with Damon, I'm not stopping you."

It was his turn to narrow his eyes at her now, "That's not what I'm saying. I'm saying that you're gorgeous; you should be out enjoying yourself, making mistakes. Lots of them! A whole football team of them if you so desire."

He could see her scowl soften when he told her she was gorgeous, and by the time he had finished speaking she was smiling at his ridiculous statement.

"I cocked that whole thing up, didn't I?" He asked.

She nudged him playfully, then wrinkled her nose as she nodded in agreeance.

"What I would do with that body, though…" he said, realising too late it was out loud, "ah... I mean, if I looked like a fit, fresh-faced young…you know what? Never mind. Your shot."

"Just so we're clear, this whole thing isn't a plan to take possession of my body and sleep with an entire football team, or Damon... right? Because you're sending a lot of mixed signals right now..."

"Yeah yeah, just play your turn."

It wasn't her turn but she took it anyway, probably out of pity for the mess he had got himself into all to find out she hadn't had an intimate relationship with either Salvatore brother, or, surprisingly, any of the other friends in her circle. He realised that Elena's multiple relationships may have lead him to assume her best friend was also more worldly and he now felt more protective of her. The flirtatious and confident woman he had been hanging out with night after night was more inexperienced than he had thought, and he fought a sudden urge to be every romantic hero he had ever read about or watched in a poorly scripted rom-com. Everything he thought she deserved and was saddened to know she had never experienced. And then reality struck and he almost laughed out loud at the idea. It would be a case of the blind leading the blind, where he was concerned. Also, he was supposed to be distancing himself from her, not planning a bombardment of cliche'd grand gestures. He had been derailed, but he was back on track now.

She sunk her last balls in one shot and looked hesitant before asking her next question. He steeled himself, seeing the change in her demeanour. She looked more serious now than she had all night.

"Why is it that when you look at me, you don't look at my actual eyes for very long?"

The question still threw him and her study of him while awaiting his answer wasn't helping.

"Of course I do. I look at your eyes."

"No, you don't. You always drop your eyes to my lips after only a few seconds."

"So? I'm not comfortable with making eye contact. Plenty of people aren't."

He downed the rest of his drink.

"Lie," she accused.

He cleared his throat, playing with the empty glass in his hand. It would be easier for him to pull away if he was honest with her now.

"Your eyes are dangerous."

She walked to him, ducking under one of his outstretched arms, filling the space between him and the table. Mere inches between them, she looked directly into his eyes. He looked down almost instantaneously and she placed a finger under his chin, tilting his head upwards.

"Why?" her silken voice demanded.

"One question, one answer," he fought.

"Then finish the answer."

He was still staring into her eyes, mesmerized as he so often was by the flecks of chartreuse throughout the ripples of olive green.

"Because I've rarely been looked at the way you look at me, and it's ...overwhelming. You look at me."

"And?" she whispered, her eyes dropping to his lips.

"And, I can't ruin this. I won't."

She stood silently, biting her lower lip lightly, as she seemed to shake herself from her previous thoughts. Slipping out from underneath him, she put her cue back on the wall. He felt exposed, and his confession had led to nothing. This was exactly what he had tried to avoid and of course, he had failed.

He put his own coat on, removing all trace of their attendance in under 20 seconds, and they started their short walk to her dorm. It seemed a lot longer in silence but he didn't know what to say to break it. He had never had success with maintaining any relationship in his life and he didn't know how to fix what he had done. Thankfully, she was the one to turn to him as they reached the front of her building.

"Truth?" she asked.

"No more, love. Not tonight."

"I didn't get my 8 ball shot," she argued, "so I'm taking my turn."

Powerless, he stood with his hands firmly in his coat pockets, nodding once for her to continue.

"The night that you took me home, after I drank too much, and you cleaned me up and put me in bed? I remember what I said to you."

"So... what's your question?"

"My question is, why didn't you take me up on my offer?"

He knew exactly what she was referring to, and maybe he had even willed for a repeat a few times in previous conversations. The request was for him to stay the night. While she wasn't sober at all, he knew that she was sincere. Neither of them had mentioned it again.

"Taking advantage of any woman in my care both intoxicated and vulnerable, is frankly, abominable."

"So it was just because you're a gentleman?"

He nodded, "That, and the fact that I didn't want to be just a 'mistake' to you."

She half-smiled in appreciation, moving into him and placing a hand on his chest above his heart.

"Truth?" she asked, looking deep into his eyes in that way that made him feel like he was naked and on display.

"Alright," he nodded again.

"If I was to make that offer tonight, would you take it this time, knowing I'm fully sober and knowing that I'm hoping you'll say yes?"

He wanted to fight it, to tell her it wasn't a good idea. Sex changed everything, for better or for worse, it was from one end of the spectrum to the other with no in-between. Never incremental, it either brought people closer or pushed them away forever. It was such a risk, but she was pressed firmly against him, the heat from her body reaching into his bones, and he felt that this was a different form of torture that he was not prepared for.

She stopped him before he could answer.

"I'm going to go into my empty room. I'm going to take off what I'm wearing now and I'm going to slip into almost nothing at all. Then I'm going to wait for no more than 30 minutes. I'm going to wait for the one man that I've been waiting for ever since the night of Lily's dinner. The one who looks at me like I'm the strongest mortal he's ever known and yet instinctively cuts me off when I've had enough to drink or insists on walking me home, even if it's 2 blocks. The one man who, whenever his eyes fall on my lips, or his hands touch any part of me, makes me hungry in a way I've never felt before. I'm going to wait in my room for him to knock on my door and if he does, then I will willingly invite him in. And if he doesn't, then we will carry on as if nothing ever happened. But let me be very clear here – at no point will this ever be a 'mistake.'"

She cupped his face with her hands and lifted herself to his mouth, placing the lightest kiss on his lips. His eyes remained closed as he felt her walk away, and by the time he was ready to open them again, she was inside.

He had only half an hour to decide his fate.