This chapter was Hell to write. I can't even tell you how long it took, and it is shorter than some of my others. My only excuse is I have a friend staying with me, and it can be a little distracting. I also recently started using Twitter, and it is distracting as well. If any of you want to follow me, my username is kpredskin22.
I just wanted to profusely thank all of my reviewers from the last chapter. It is the second most amount of reviews that I've gotten for this story. You guys are the best. Please keep it up. I hope you all enjoy.
After successfully ridding the Grille of all its top brand alcohol, Caroline is kind enough to walk/drag me back to the boardinghouse. Warning bells are going off in my head that returning to face either one of the Salvatores in this state might constitute a bad idea. Then Caroline hands me the 'fun flask' and my mind finds the mute button for those damn bells. I also conveniently forget to worry just why my best friend keeps plying me with alcohol right up until we step foot on the Salvatore property.
After Caroline gently reminds me of the complex mechanics of walking, she drops me on the first soft surface she finds. "Special delivery for Damon Salvatore," Caroline bellows, amused at her own joke. Damon wastes no time speeding downstairs. I assume to sign for me.
All coherent thoughts not destroyed by the alcohol are obliterated once I catch sight of Damon standing in the foyer. Apparently we interrupted his post shower ritual, because he still has droplets of water falling down his sculpted six pack. All he threw on before racing downstairs was a pair of tight dark wash jeans that I'm sure cost more than my entire outfit. But once I see how they accentuate his already cute butt, I decided that they are worth every penny he paid the overpriced designer.
"You're pretty," I drunkenly remark before erupting in a fit of giggles. Damon flashes his sexy smirk for all of six seconds before he remembers to feign annoyance.
"I think you're looking for my brother," Damon chides. "Little miss walking brewery falls under his purview." Caroline is in no mood for Damon's flippant attitude tonight, especially when I start petting her arm like a dog. She slips it away from my grasp before giving Damon a reply.
"Do you see my broody friend around . . . no, so I'm pawning her off on you? See that she makes it to bed in one piece," Caroline instructs authoritatively.
"And why can't you do that might I ask?" Damon asks, aggravated by Caroline's boldness.
"Curfew," Caroline explains lamely. Her voice reaches that pitch which even I know means she's lying. "Apparently being 18 and a vampire is not a good enough excuse to be out all night, so says my mother," Caroline elaborates sarcastically. Damon eyes her skeptically, but ultimately relents.
"Fine," he sighs heavily. "I'll get drunky to bed," Damon agrees as Caroline speeds out the door. "I suppose you're expecting me to carry you?" He questions unenthusiastically. I smile real big up at him as I extend my arms like a small child asking to be picked up. Damon cradles me in his arms as I nuzzle his bare chest like a cat, not caring about the remaining water seeping into my clothing. Peace overtakes me in his arms. It's not until Damon approaches Stefan's room that panic sets in.
"No," I order forcefully. Damon stares down at me in puzzlement. No doubt he assumed that my panic attack from last night was only a fluke. But I'm not ready to share a bed with Stefan again, not yet anyway. Aside from that, he's made his position on my late night outings with Caroline perfectly clear. If he smelled the alcohol on my breath, he'd know that I lied about staying with Jeremy all day. Distance is better. It will all be clearer in the morning once the room stops spinning.
"Stefan wouldn't like it," I remind Damon carefully. "Me like this. It's not exactly the image that he has of me. I don't want to disappoint him," I elaborate gloomily, my buzz taking a serious hit. Something about my answer deeply troubles Damon, because I can see him grinding his teeth in frustration as he holds me tighter.
"Stefan should worry about him disappointing you not the other way around," Damon argues, indignant at his little brother's judgment of my behavior.
"Please," I plead weakly. "Just tonight, can we forget about Stefan, at least until I stop seeing double?" I groan inwardly.
He nods his head in understanding and walks me down the hall to my old room and tucks me in for the third time in a month. Once the blankets are tucked under my chin, Damon sits down beside me on the bed. His hand reaches up as if to brush the stray hair from my face, but at the last second winces and thinks better of it.
"Just so we're clear," Damon states seriously. "You're sleeping alone tonight. I don't care how many times you gaze up with those pretty doe eyes or how drunk or needy you're feeling. You're a big girl and certainly old enough to self soothe," he claims mockingly, and my buzz takes a deeper hit. The tequila still makes my head fuzzy, but my mind is clearing up enough to be depressed that Damon won't be staying. At the same time, I feel a surge of admiration for Damon standing up for himself and for Stefan.
"Look at you, being a good big brother," I tease playfully. Damon of course is incapable of taking a compliment.
"Brotherhood has nothing to do with it," he lies terribly. "I really don't want to get vomit in my hair if you hurl during the night," Damon declares jokingly. I laugh lightly at his ridiculous sense of humor.
"You're really annoying," I proclaim, one part playful and one part irritated. Has anyone ever told you that?" We're back to our status quo of the teasing back and forth, and it feels even better than I thought it would.
"I'm sure you have repeatedly," Damon answers lightly. "How am I irritating you today?" He asks teasingly
"Carrying me upstairs, tucking me in, doing right by Stefan," I list in a series. "You're being annoying by being perfect." Damon scoffs at my constant contradictions.
"So before it was a problem that I acted like a vampire, and now it's a problem that I'm acting like a human being," Damon restates with mockery and a light edge of contempt. I know I'm being ridiculous, but it doesn't stop it from being true.
"It sounds kind of stupid when you say it like that," I admit reluctantly. "Truth is the whole chivalrous understanding thing makes it really hard on a girl," I add, more honestly than I intend.
"I'm so sorry that I've made life so difficult," Damon fakes remorse. "Please enlighten me how I can make your life simpler."
"I think the answer's obvious," I respond earnestly. "Stop being nice to me, possibly wear looser clothing, and maybe stop working out, because my God those abs with that face." And the unintentional honesty just keeps on coming. My word vomit seems to be spewing all over the room, and I just know these words will come back to haunt me. Luckily after Damon stops laughing at me, he takes a tiny ounce of pity on me.
"I'm going to cut you off before you say more things you'll be mortified about tomorrow," he informs me intensely. This is the moment that I should shut the Hell up, fall asleep, or order Damon out of the room. Instead I make the ill-advised decision to open my mouth.
"I could steal a move out of the Damon Salvatore playbook and compel you to forget the whole thing. Who knows Elijah might agree to help." And with that, the secret's out. No amount of bed covers can hide me from the truth.
"So that's what this was about," Damon announces, evasive and frustrated. "Two weeks of ignoring me all because of a couple of forgotten memories." My fighting instincts reemerge at the sound of his indifference towards his actions.
"You don't get to do that," I reply angrily. "You don't get to act like it's nothing." I'm almost sober now. The alcohol has burned through my system, and I can feel everything now, the indignation, the pain, and the fury. He ALWAYS does this, but he can't anymore. I won't let him. I NEED to see him just as he is, so if I can't hide than neither can he. But Damon was never going to make it easy on me. I think it's against his moral code.
"It was nothing," Damon asserts predictably. "I compelled you to forget that I loved you. Which I'm sure was breaking news before I told you, twice." Damon's sarcasm oozes freely from his mouth, but instead of sparking further anger, it only breaks my heart. He still doesn't understand.
"It's not just because of what you said," I whisper softly.
"Then what was it?" Damon inquires curiously, but distantly.
"It was your intention," I explain. "It was your heart. It was your desire to protect me, even if it tore you apart." There's a flicker, a speck of a flame in his eyes, but it dies by some unknown gust of wind, and the night is left cold.
"Screw intentions," he bites back bitterly. "It still doesn't change anything." He's protecting himself, because he doesn't believe me. I've hurt him too many times.
"It changes everything!" I swear wholeheartedly. Why does he think I kept it a secret for so long if it was meaningless?
"Really?" Damon questions with mock surprise. "Well that is breaking news. So you've broken up with Stefan then?" Damon asks expectantly. I hang my head in a sign of shame. Okay, maybe not that much has changed.
"No, but . . ."
"But nothing," Damon interrupts aggressively. "Things are the same as they've always been, so in keeping with that theme, I'm going to get shit faced at the Grille and you're going to do what you do best, nothing."
He leaves on that note. I'm left with unanswered questions, unresolved feelings, and a sense of direction for the first time in weeks. Everything Damon said was right. If I do nothing with how I feel, then it really is meaningless. So I have a plan now: sober up, break up with Stefan, find Damon, and tell him everything. Either way it needs to wait till tomorrow. Stefan's nowhere in sight and I owe him the truth. We've been through too much for me to burn bridges now. Damon might have been right before. Maybe those memories didn't change anything then, but they change everything now.
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