Damon helps Elena with her math homework at the boarding house.
Elena's POV
I've destroyed five pencils, just by chewing on them in the past hour. I've been sitting in the living room of the boarding house for the past couple hours, but can't seem to understand my trigonometry homework. Stefan had a list of errands to run today, but he isn't even in my math class, so I've been alone on this endeavor to understand how to "find the value for each expression." I toss my text book and pencil onto the table and lean back into the couch. I cross my arms and stare at my homework angrily.
"What's wrong with you, grumpy?" Damon smirks as he waltzes into the room with a drink in one hand and a cheeseburger in the other.
"Don't even start with me, Damon." I sigh, still glaring at my homework. Damon makes his way over to the table and takes a bite out of his burger while reading the front of the textbook.
"Mmmmm, I remember this. I was actually quite good at this." He takes a seat next to me on the couch before grabbing the book off of the coffee table and placing it in his lap.
"You know how to do this?" I ask, truly surprised.
He rolls his eyes, "why does everybody seem so surprised that I might actually know a thing or two about school? I'm not stupid, if that's what you're asking."
I raise my hands in submission, "sorry to have offended you."
He finishes his burger and sets down his drink before picking up my pencil and writing down the problem on my piece of paper. I can't help but notice how elegant and smooth his handwriting is, the way his script slants ever so slightly to the right.
"Number 9, find the exact value of Sin(-45)," he says, while working out the problem on my paper. He tries to explain how I need to use an "odd property" to solve the problem, but for some reason I can't focus.
The room is lit up by just by several lamps and the fire burning. I can hear the rain pouring hard outside, but the fire crackling makes it cozy inside. His voice is smooth like syrup, which matches his perfect handwriting. His scent is rich with scotch, blood, and cologne, so I can't help but ignore my homework to just breath in his scent. My gaze wanders to his chest where a slim fitting t-shirt outlines his flawless abdominal muscles and biceps only party covered by his sleeves. His forearms tense with every letter he writes on my paper, but I'm not paying attention to what he is writing, not one bit. My heart is beating a mile a minute by now, but I can't help but feel calm and at peace.
"Do you understand?" he breaks me from my entrancement.
"Uh, yes. Thank you," I lie, not wanting him to know how nervous he made me.
"No problem," he smirks, gently placing his hand on my leg before getting up to leave. When he is gone from the room, I exhale and sink back into the couch to continue working on question 9.