Whenever I felt Stefan's secretive gaze on me at work, he innocently glanced away as soon as I turned around. There was no denying that it put a smile on my face. There was just something special about the intern's lingering stare, something indescribable yet wonderful that sent my heart on a marathon and had my body tingling to the tips of my hair.

We'd been at work for three days now, and I hadn't spoken to him since he tried to help me with my English accent in my dressing room. Or, rather, he hadn't spoken to me. Aside from his glances and smiles, he seemed to be avoiding me; every time we were in the same room and he didn't bother looking up right away, my heart practically dropped. He gave me a small nod in greeting, but didn't bother to approach me. A part of me wondered if Katherine had spoken to him, but I figured that she hadn't.

As my makeup artist touched up on my blush and lip gloss, the bristles gently tickling my cheek, I turned my attention to Stefan, who was currently chewing on the back of his pen as he looked at a tiny screen intently. Sitting beside him was his brother, Damon Salvatore, a dark-haired, inquisitive man who happened to be one of the producers. Using the pen in his hand, Stefan arched an eyebrow in concentration and pointed to something on the screen. I watched as Stefan's lips moved a mile a minute and Damon smirked in response. He was clearly impressed.

I was impressed, too, and I didn't even know what they were talking about.

Damon placed a proud hand on his brother's shoulder before approaching the camera men and director. Stefan stayed at the screen, scribbling notes down onto a little blue steno pad that he kept in his back pocket. I had to admit, watching Stefan so enveloped in his work... it was a turn on.

Pushing my thoughts away, I let out a long sigh. What was it about Stefan Salvatore that kept me coming back for more? Why did I long to hear his smooth voice say my name again, watch as word after poetic word flowed from his lips and into my eager ears? I'd truly only met him twice... but his presence was addictive, like a drug that's impossible to stop taking once you've tried it once. It was more than that, though. When I was talking with Stefan, it felt as easy as breathing, and when he was gone, a part of me went with him. I hardly knew him, and yet there was something about him that already felt essential to my whole being.

"My brother had a great idea," Damon started to the director, and I subtly turned my attention to their conversation, "to move the camera angle a little bit to the right and move the lighting down. I mean he's right... the vibe isn't nearly as ominous as we'd like it to be. She's supposed to be in a dingy club, not an amusement park." The director nodded slowly in agreement, and Damon simply smirked before heading back over to his brother.

"Not a bad idea, Stef," he commended. "If you can make a cup of coffee half as well, maybe I'll have some people in high places write you that letter of recommendation for NYU." It was obvious that he was teasing; Damon was going to do it anyways.

Rolling his eyes at Damon's banter, Stefan slid out of the chair with a dismissive nod and left. But right before he went into the costume room, he turned around to look at me, his head swiftly turning until his eyes rested on mine. I could quickly feel the heat rushing to my cheeks... he knew I'd been staring. Normally, I would have looked away, but not today... Today, I daringly kept my eyes on his, feeling that strange understanding between us open up and flood my heart. I didn't blink, didn't move. I needed to feel some sort of connection with him; we'd been so distant for the past few days, and any contact I could get, I'd take. Of course, Stefan was the one to look away, and I gritted my teeth in frustration. Why was he acting so strange? What had changed so suddenly?

As soon as I finished filming, I made sure to catch up with Stefan before he got into his old-fashioned, red porsche. As he hastily packed the trunk with papers and his laptop case, I crossed my arms and rested against the wall of the building we'd been filming at. "Nice car," I started, making him jump a bit.

Letting out an exasperated laugh, Stefan shook his head. "Thanks," he chuckled. As he closed the trunk, he glanced over at me, and I instantly saw his eyes glaze over. The look in his green eyes made me freeze in nervous curiosity, afraid that if I made one move he'd look away. And I didn't want him to stop staring at me like that. Ever.

I knew what I must have looked like to him. My character, Eliza, had just attended a masquerade ball, and although I changed my clothes, I did not bother taking any makeup off. With my hair straightened and half pulled up, and my golden makeup heavy around my wide, brown eyes, my appearance was probably ridiculous, like a high school girl getting ready for prom. Maybe he was just amused. "You're staring, Mr. Salvatore," I teased hesitantly.

Snapping out of whatever daze he was in, Stefan cleared his throat and glanced down. He bit the bottom of his lip shyly, almost awkwardly lifting his arm to gesture to me. "Sorry, uh, it's just... you look, um..."

"Insane? Ridiculous? I know. I'll-"

He interrupted me. "Beautiful." Beautiful? If he moved just a step closer, he probably would have heard my heart pounding out of my chest. I smiled to myself and briefly glanced into his eyes, which were already swimming with regret. "I'm sorry," he said quickly, confusedly, as if he hadn't meant to say those words out loud.

"It's okay," I said smoothly, trying to hide the wide smile that was fighting to form on my lips. There was just something about him that made my stomach flutter. "I think anyone would look pretty with all of this makeup on their face anyways," I started, acting as if his compliment had no effect on me.

He laughed lightly. "I wasn't talking about the makeup."

How did he do this to me? My legs felt like jello. "What were you talking about then?"

Stefan didn't dare look at me, and suddenly became interested in cleaning a non-existent spot on his car. "I should probably be getting home. I promised Caroline I would give her a hand at the pub tonight..."

My shoulders hunched in defeat. He was acting so strange, so quiet, so distant. I wanted to know why, and I intended to find out. "Wait," I said. When he turned to look at me, I placed my hands on my hips. "I came over here for a reason. I was wondering... are you free tonight? After you work at the tavern, of course... I wanted some help with my British accent. I could've called the dialogue coach, but you're better at it. She's American and does that weird lip movement and tea and pinky thing you were telling me about."

Sighing, Stefan turned to look at me. I could've almost sworn he was trying to hold back a chuckle. "I can stop by your hotel at nine o'clock?"
"See you then," I confirmed with a grin.

I was going to figure this man out if it was the last thing I did.

I checked the clock quickly, like I had been for the past few hours. Yes! Finally it had changed from 8:49 to 8:50. Ten minutes until Stefan would arrive. I felt stupid, beyond stupid, for getting so anxious and worked up over an intern who was coming to help me with lines, but I had made sure to apply the right amount of lip gloss and eyeshadow. Not too much, not too little. I knew this wasn't a date, but couldn't I pretend for a little while? I hadn't felt this normal in years, and I liked it; I liked the way he made me feel, and I could only hope that it was mutual.

Wow. It was strange, but I had a crush on Stefan Salvatore. A giddy, schoolgirl crush.

When the telephone rang, I quickly walked over and answered it. "Hello?" I greeted politely.

"Miss Gilbert, there is a young man at the front desk saying he is supposed to meet with you...,"
I grinned lightly. "You can tell him my suite number," I said with a nodded. When the hotel worker agreed and hung up, I placed the phone back on the table and let out a deep breath. In a few minutes, I would try and figure out what Stefan's problem with me at work was.

Three sturdy knocks made me jump. Running my fingers through my hair, I bit my lip and opened the door, only to be greeted with Stefan's warm eyes. He smiled politely as I took in his appearance. This was the same Stefan I had met at the grill, the one who walked with swagger and relaxed confidence. This was casual Stefan, nighttime Stefan, who differed greatly from daytime Stefan. Daytime Stefan always wore his shirts buttoned up to the very top, and hid behind those ridiculous but cute hipster glasses of his. Nighttime Stefan, on the other hand, was perfectly relaxed in a leather jacket and had his glasses hanging from one of his denim pockets. Two buttons at the top of his gray shirt -which he had worn at work- were now undone, giving me a good glimpse at the toned muscles of his chest.

"Thanks for coming," I greeted, trying not to sound distracted. I stepped aside as he walked in.

"It's a pleasure to be here," he drawled, placing his palm in mine as he kissed the back of my hand. "Thank you for inviting me over. I'm sorry I didn't bring anything, but I assumed that you wouldn't be too charmed over two cans of beer from the pub."

I was charmed by him.

"So, should we get to work?" I suggested. When Stefan nodded, I grabbed my script and gestured over to the couch.

"Nathaniel, I cannot say that it's a pleasure. I've thought about your offer, and I cannot accept." I tried to relax my lips as much as I could, and as soon as I was finished with the line, I prayed that it would meet Stefan's standards.

"That was great!" he complimented. "Much, much better!"

My eyes lit up. "Really?" As Stefan nodded, I grinned brightly at him. We'd been going through lines for about an hour now, and to my dismay, he'd kept it quite professional. Aside from his occasional joke about Americans and British stereotypes, there were no flirtatious hints or comments. "Hey, can we take a short break?" I asked.

"Sure," Stefan shrugged, resting the back of his head against the seat of the couch. After the first few lines, he had decided to sit on the floor while I stretched out on the couch.

"Thanks," I said flatly, glancing down at him. I really wasn't appreciating his distant attitude. So, in an attempt to figure it out, I chimed, "I saw you at work today with Damon. When you gave him the advice about the lighting. It was really smart. I was impressed."

Stefan smiled softly, raising an eyebrow. "You were?"

"Yeah," I confessed, sliding off of the couch to sit next to him on the floor. "You really have an eye for that kind of stuff. I heard Damon say that you wanted to go to NYU..."

Laughing lightly, Stefan looked at me, his green orbs filled with amusement. "Eavesdropping, were we?"

Unable to stifle my giggle, I shrugged my shoulders. "He wasn't exactly whispering," I tried. Stefan playfully rolled his eyes in response. "Well, New York is beautiful. You'll love it there."

"I know," he breathed in admiration. "I grew up there. Well, I lived there for the first seven years of my life, at least. It's a great place."

My mouth dropped a little bit as I pieced it together. "That's where the accent came from!" I couldn't help but laugh when Stefan turned to look at me with a playful confusion. His brows were jokingly furrowed together, his lips in a fine line, except for where they slightly curved up at the sides.

"I do not have an American accent!" he groaned. "I do not have an accent at all."

I shook my head, chuckling. "You do. You definitely do. You have a strange accent, Stefan."

"You're the one with an accent. Not me, Elena."
I was fighting the urge to jokingly punch his arm. "You're in denial."

"This argument could go on forever," he stated with a dismissive wave of the hand. "It's all about perspective."

I smiled at him, a gentle, admiring smile that I knew he caught. But once again, Stefan chose to ignore it, making my heart drop. I decided to change the subject."Did Katherine talk to you about something?" I finally questioned when his behavior really started to bother me. I was done tip-toeing around him, trying not to set him off or make him glance away.

"Katherine?" he repeated. "Your stunt double?" When I simply nodded, he shook his head, puzzled. "No, why would she?"

Concentrating on the nail polish that was starting to chip on my nails, I didn't dare look over at him. "You started acting differently towards me after the first day of work," I observed. "Quieter."

I quickly turned my attention to him. I could tell that he was holding his breath. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Stefan," I reasoned, "I know when someone's trying to avoid me." Then, I kept my eyes on his face, willing for him to look back at me. When he did, I didn't blink, didn't move. My face was hard and stern, an expression that showed him I knew something was up.

And then I saw it, his resolve break down... his cold face changed, flickered with insecurity and young reluctance. "You're famous, Elena," he began. "I'm not. And I know how actors get in these situations. And I'm sorry for leading you on at all, but I've had my heart broken before... I can't set myself up for that."

I swallowed thickly. "Set yourself up?" I glared at him now, feeling anger well up inside of me. "I didn't talk to you and smile with you because I wanted a fling, Stefan! Did you ever think for just a second that I enjoyed talking to you, that it made me feel normal?" I wanted him to understand that I wasn't trying to use him for selfish reasons, that he wasn't a toy to me. "When most people see me, they associate me with fame. When we met, you didn't even know who I was... and I liked that. We got to know each other, and you liked me for me. I don't know, it felt good." I inhaled a sharp breath. "I wasn't getting to know you to use you. I'm still not. I just like you. Is that such a bad thing?"

Stefan huffed silently and stared off at something only he could see, his eyes filled with shame. "Girls like you don't go for guys like me."

"Girls like me?"

I watched as he absently drummed his fingertips along his denim clad thighs. "Girls with a perfect life... You have everything. The world at your fingertips." He paused for a second. I knew he was implying that his life wasn't easy, that we were far too different than we were alike.

Stefan's words broke my heart a little bit; I'd seen many sides of him, but this one struck me. At the moment, I didn't view him as a cold, brooding person or a man who oozed leather-clad swagger. He was a layered individual who knew pain, knew heartbreak, and was scared to expose himself to it again. He was a normal person, with normal insecurities. I turned to my side and shook my head. "I don't have everything, Stefan." My eyes met his fathomless pools of green, and I spoke the words without even hesitating. "Something's always been missing."

"And what's that?" he sighed.

I slowly lifted my hand, and wove my fingers through his own. "Ask me later." When I gave Stefan's hand a squeeze, I smiled just a bit. "Because I think I may have found it."

AN: Okay, I know not much happened this chapter and it was kind of slow, but this is the beginning of a Stelena relationship. Yayyyy, lol. I hope you enjoyed it nevertheless. I'm still contemplating whether I should continue or not, especially after this chapter. Let me know if you'd like to see more.

Please leave a review letting me know what you thought! Every single comment, good or bad, inspires me so much and absolutely makes my day. What do you think of Stefan and Elena's relationship so far? What would you like to see more of, or what would you like to see in general?

Thanks! Xoxo

Sara