Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Summer Love

PART IV

Luckily, the beach house has four rooms—now occupied by the four people inside.

The birds were chirping outside and the sunlight was showing through the blinds. Kids were screaming and playing outside in the hot sand, adults were watching their offspring while they mingle with their friends and family . . . and Bonnie is still asleep in the room.

It was 9:13AM. Too early for her to get up. Plus, with the work she, Elena, and Stefan did yesterday, she couldn't seem to move her body. Damon brought many heavy, expensive-looking suitcases (Bonnie idly wondered if he was part of the mafia) with him from Italy whereas Stefan brought a few semi-heavy and simple-looking suitcases. She was glad that Stefan was the one who carried most of his suitcases to his room. She and Elena were practically strength-drained by the time they finished putting Damon's stuff in his room.

Unfortunately for Bonnie, Damon took the room across from hers. Yesterday, she found him sleeping on the bed with his tummy facing down and his face turned to the side. He looked like a kid during that moment . . . which was surprising since he looked like a, well, man when they had a discussion earlier.

Seven minutes later, Bonnie forced herself to get up. Slowly, she stripped off her nightgown and pulled on a pair of shorts and a white tank top. She stealthily walked down the stairs, afraid of waking the people in the house up, and held her breath as she entered the kitchen.

Luck must've been on her side today (and for the first time in the summer) because the redhead didn't see anyone in the kitchen. Sighing in relief, Bonnie began raiding the fridge. But she didn't find anything appealing to her taste.

"No yummy food," she muttered, putting her hands on the counter near the sink and cabinets. A thought suddenly struck her as she reached up to the cabinet on her tip toes. Feebly opening the cabinet, Bonnie chose to lift her petite form up on the counter to get her breakfast; nutella, to be specific. She kneeled on the counter and quickly grabbed the large nutella container before jumping down on the wooden floor.

Next, Bonnie searched for a spoon and found one inside a drawer by the sink. Smiling contentedly, she opened the nutella container and pushed her spoon in the semi-sticky sweetness and pulled a one-inch thick of chocolate goodness to her mouth.

I wish I could eat this every day, Bonnie thought while digging in her nutella container.

Her curls, still in a red tangle of mess, were framing her heart-shaped face as she continued to eat her nutella. She was trying to avoid contact between her curls and nutella because she didn't want to take a shower yet.

"Enjoying your unhealthy breakfast, Little Red?" Damon asked, entering the kitchen with only his sweatpants on.

She lowered her gaze, blushing. Why does he have to be shirtless and attractive? Bonnie couldn't help but glance at his lean and muscled upper torso. She randomly wondered if it felt as hard as it looked. What if he just used make-up on it? Well, if he did, then he's a good make-up artist.

"Yes," she squeaked, placing another mouthful.

Damon just went around the kitchen, trying to find some edible food. He should've brought some pasta . . . or anything edible. He assumed that mostly everything in the kitchen were preservatives. Noticing this, Bonnie balanced her spoon on top of the nutella container.

"Do you want some coffee?"

"Anything edible would be fine," he muttered, sitting on the counter while Bonnie stood up to make him some coffee.

She attempted to start a small conversation. "So do you enjoy the place so far?" Bonnie asked, putting a cup of water in the microwave to heat it up (it's how she makes coffee, mind you).

"We haven't done anything yet," Damon replied, watching her move around the kitchen. Her heart thudded oddly against her chest.

"Well, what are your impressions of the country then?" Bonnie asked, trying to think on her feet. She grabbed the container of coffee granules, lightly drumming her fingers on the granite countertop. "Oh, and do you like your coffee sweet or . . . bland?"

"I'm not a fan of either, so somewhere in between," he said with a shrug. Damon crossed his arms and leaned his head on the cabinet behind him. "So far, I think that the country is pazzo," he murmured.

"Pazzo?" Bonnie asked, raising her eyebrows while glimpsing at him.

"Crazy. Insane. Loony," Damon said with an amused smirk.

The microwave beeped three times, the words "END" on the timer. "Oh," Bonnie said, putting half a spoonful of coffee granules in his coffee. She added a little bit of sugar and mixed the warm beverage, handing it over to Damon and sitting back on her chair to resume eating her sweet, "unhealthy" breakfast.

She watched him through her peripheral vision. He wasn't saying anything about the coffee as he first took a sip of it. He continued to drink it silently. Bonnie wondered if that was a good or bad sign. She thought it was the latter.

"Can you cut it out?" he asked, rather annoyed.

"What?" Bonnie asked, dumbfounded.

"Can you cut it out with your staring? It's rude," he said, taking a slow gulp of coffee.

"I-I wasn't staring!" Bonnie exclaimed, quickly becoming defensive. She slouched in her chair, folding her legs underneath her, bashfully stabbing the half empty nutella container with her spoon. I wasn't staring, she repeated in her head—although she knew she was lying.

He ignored her and planned out his day in his head. First, he needed to go to a grocery store to buy some suitable-for-eating food. And then, he'll hit the beach in the afternoon. Afterwards, he'll go to some local bar (he'll do some research on Google later) and pick up some girls. And then- why is that maiden still staring?

"Are you expecting something from me?" he asked, locking his gaze with hers.

She blushed and shook her head. Then, on second thought, Bonnie opened her mouth to ask a question. "Is the coffee good?"

"I would've put it down if it wasn't," he said nonchalantly. He drank the remains of his coffee and placed it on the sink. "Wash that for me."

"I'm not your-"

"Maid?" Damon asked, cocking an eyebrow. He moved off the counter and walked leisurely towards her, a curved smile on his face. "From what I remember, we made a deal yesterday morning." He saw her gulp and stepped closer, bending down so that his face was in level with hers. Secretly astonished at the unconventional beauty he saw, Damon inclined a little closer. An idea flashed in his mind. "Wash the cup and get ready in half an hour. We're going to the grocery store."

Bonnie exhaled her breath when Damon finally strolled away, leaving her in a nervous train of emotions. She was embarrassed, for one, and she was also angry. And . . . what's this feeling? Is she developing a crush on that- that- guy? How is that even possible? All he did was order her around! And, when he's not ordering her around, he's just quietly there.

"Damn it," she muttered while dropping her spoon in the sink. "Being a maid should be worth it." And so, Bonnie McCullough—a "maid" of the Salvatore brothers—washed the spoon and the cup.

A/N: Happy Friday guys! My spring break is near to its end . . . but I have enjoyed it (surprisingly!). :) Of course, it's mainly because I finally bought the first book of the Infernal Devices and am going to finish up reading today . . . Anyhoo, did you guys like the chapter? It kinda seems boring to me, but I promise that it will (Herondale) get better . . . at least, I hope it will (Herondale). Oh! Also, I apologize for not being able to send out my thank-you PMs to you guys! I was utterly distracted by the book. Gomen. u.u

But, I just want you to know that I greatly appreciated your reviews and everything that you guys have done for this story! :) It always warms my heart.

May I please have your jem (Carstairs) of a review? :)