A/N So I really tried to get this chapter out yesterday but I had rehearsal and just couldn't get it finished… I hope you guys enjoy! Let me know what you think. It's kind of long… just be warned…
Elements of an Ill-fated Romance
Chapter Eight Part One: Insight is not all it's Cracked up to Be…
Playlist: Band-Aid By: Pixie Lott & Secrets By One Republic
Crossing the threshold he suddenly realized that when he brought them to Chuck E. Cheese he probably should have given it more consideration. But the idea of pissing off Bonnie was as far as he had gotten in his thought process and now as he sat across from her, surrounded by a mob of kids, yelling, crying and just being all kinds ridiculous, he realized just how stupid this plan had been. And by the way Bonnie was smiling as she bit into her fourth slice of pizza {where the hell did she put it} she realized it too!
Hands in his lap he watched a little boy run by their table, his hands covered in what he only hoped was cheese and tomato sauce. He cringed and turned back to the girl across from him. "Are you done yet?"
Chewing slowly… she shook her head from side to side. "Not even close!"
Cocking his head to the side he gave her an acerbic smile. "You don't even want to be here."
She shrugged, swallowed, and reached for her soda. "I've changed my mind… sitting here takes me back to my childhood." She remarked looking around.
He sighed. "That was what… a year ago?"
She returned his smile. "Not to mention it's bothering you and that's enough of a reason to stay."
"Wow… that's mature."
Snorting she rolled her eyes. "You're one to talk! Should I remind you that this was your idea in the first place?" She asked.
Waving his hand to dismiss her statement he folds his arms across his chest, and leans back in his chair. "We already know I'm immature." He stated with a raised brow. "You're supposed to be the adult here."
"Says the 150 year old vampire…" Looking around she smiled. "Besides it's not that bad."
"Says the teenage cheerleader…" He mocked. He reached for a slice and she slapped his hand away.
"No touchy!" She stated grabbing for the last slice.
"You can't eat that! It's like what… your fifth piece!"
"Sixth!" She bit down. "I told you I didn't eat."
"Since when, the ice age; you can't be more than ninety pounds! Where do you put it?"
"I'm 110 actually and it's not about weight… it's about the size of your stomach. I eat a lot… I'm not ashamed to admit it!" She shrugged slightly. "I once entered into an eating contest when I was twelve. Elena and I both did."
His eyebrows rose at the statement because he had to admit he was interested.
"It didn't go well for Elena. She puked after her third hot dog… but not me… I almost came in first place." She smiled reminiscently. "My dad was so proud of me… his little girl that could pack away fourteen hot dogs in one sitting…they both were proud." It had been the last summer before her mother left. Her brow creased at the thought because even now… so many years later she still had trouble sorting out her feelings for the woman that left her. Anger was always easy... it was everything else that made her feel so mixed up.
Looking up she noticed he was staring. His eyebrows drawn close together in concentration he cocked his head to one side. "Your mother abandoned you." It's a statement not a question.
His words are so cavalier and sting more than she would like. "What… what are you talking about? How did you know that?" She asked.
"You're practically screaming it." When she furrowed her brow he sighed and pointed to his temple. "In here… you're thinking about it."
"You can read minds!" And she's torn between fascination and anger.
"Why don't you just tell the whole world?" He shot back leaning across the table and lowering his voice. He raised a brow waiting for her to do the same and when she does… it gives him a very straightforward look into Bonnie Bennett. All wide-eyed, full lips, and flawless skin except for a small scar on her right temple that anyone else might have missed if they weren't this close. He swallowed hard as she raised her brow with impatience. "Yes… sometimes I can read minds." He replied.
"What do you mean sometimes?" She asked.
He inhaled deeply trying to decipher how much he was willing to tell. "When someone is open… or their guard is down… I can see what they're thinking… comes in pretty handy let me tell you!" He smirked and wagged his eyebrows suggestively.
She leaned back, folding her arms across her chest and eyed him suspiciously. "Is that how you got my coach to let me leave… you read his mind?" She asked.
He shrugged. "Not quite… I compelled him… another nifty trick I know. Get inside someone's head, and convince them that my thoughts are their own…" She furrowed her brow, opened her mouth to speak but he cut her off. "And no I didn't compel you to come with me… that was all your doing!"
She shut her mouth and frowned a little deeper. "Why didn't you?" She asked after a moment.
"Because it only works on humans."
"I'm human." She remarked softly because his words bother her.
He sighed. "Are we back to that again?" He stared at her for a long moment as if he were trying to find the right thing to say. "You're not human, you're a witch and that's nothing to be ashamed of. There's nothing wrong with it..." And the tone of his voice causes her to look up and meet his eyes with her own. "There's nothing wrong with you…" The way her eyes soften, the slight upward curve of her smooth lips... there's such appreciation in the way she's looking at him. Genuine appreciation and surprise but there's no doubt... she believes him and it causes something inside him to twist… a strange sensation inside his chest that he can't name. "You know except for your bad attitude." He tacks on needing to restore the balance between them.
She chuckles softly even as she drops the gaze and looks away her eyes landing on a kid across the room playing a game of skee ball. Her fingernails drum against the wooden table softly as her other hand rests beneath her chin.
'Man... I used to love that game.'
His eyebrows knit together as he hears the words flit across the forefront of her mind. It's a passing thought that he doesn't ignore. He stands and looks down at her expectantly. She looks up at him dubiously before it dawns on her what he's suggesting. "First… stay out of my mind… secondly…you can't be serious." He nods throwing a smirk her way. "We don't have time for this... we should get back on the road before it gets late..." And even as she utters words of protest she can't help but feel herself acceding.
"We have time for one game... You know you want to. Besides I promise I'll go easy on you and make your defeat quick." He remarked with a haphazard shrug and pretends to ignore the way her eyes flash at his subtle challenge or the way she pulls her lower lip between her teeth.
"One game... and then we're gone." She remarked. Her tone is strict but her smile lessens its impact.
"One game." And even as he says the words he knows he's lying.
It only takes a few minutes to exchange cash for tokens and soon they're standing side by side, engrossed in an intense competition of skee ball.
He wins the first game, hands down and she accuses him of using his supernatural speed to his advantage which he doesn't deny.
She demands a re-match.
This time she manipulates the balls to go where she wants them to and he doesn't catch on until he realizes that every ball she has thrown has gone into the 50 point bin giving her a perfect game. He accuses her of being a cheater and so another game must be played if only to break the tie.
"No more using supernatural powers." She warned turning to him. He gives her a pointed look and she rolls her eyes. "That goes for the both of us." She corrected.
He passes his ball back and forth between his hands as he furrows his brow. "What do you say we make this slightly more interesting?" He offers.
"What do you mean?" She asked.
He smirks. "How about a bet?" He asked.
She frowns. "I don't know…"
"Oh come on… live a little Bennett. I'm not talking anything explicit here... just a friendly wager."
"The only problem is that we're not really friends are we?"
He might have been offended if she weren't smiling so much. "And here I thought we were on the fast track to being B.F.F.'s." He took a step in her direction, coming dangerously close to her personal space. Looking down into her eyes he smiled. "Is it because you know you'll lose to me?" He asked softly.
She stared at him for a moment, watching the sunlight as it bounced off his blue irises. They reminded her of fresh waterfalls and the early days of spring. She shook her head slowly. "Fine…what are we wagering?" She asked.
He stared at her for a long time… "If I win… I get to ask you 3 questions of my choosing that I want." He stated.
"Okay…but nothing to do with sex… Elena… or blood." She finished.
"What's left to ask about then?" He mildly pouted. She rolled her eyes about to reject the entire idea when he relented. "Okay fine… no good questions… and if you win…"
"If I win… I get your leather jacket." She spoke up quickly eyeing the leather that seemed permanently attached to his body.
"What?" He asked incredulously. "How does that even out?" He asked.
"Who said it had to be even; you're the one that came up with this. I mean if you don't think you can beat me, I'm more than happy to call the whole thing off." She remarked tossing the ball in the air with such self-assurance and nonchalance that it grates on his nerves. As she tosses it once more he reaches out and catches it before it meets her palm.
"Fine." He dropped the ball into her awaiting hand. He removed his jacket, rolled up his sleeves and cracked the muscles in his neck. She watched all of this with a mixture of amusement and fascination, chuckling softly to herself.
Wrapping her fingers around the round object she noticed at the last moment that they were slightly sweaty. Was she nervous? Why would she be nervous? She was a skee ball queen. She had never lost a game to anyone… ever. She wasn't about to start now; especially not to him! Flexing the joints in her fingers she exhaled deeply.
"You look a little green there Bennett… you nervous or something?" He taunted with a dark chuckle.
She arched an eyebrow. "And you're looking a little pale… are you dead or something?" She shot back.
He rolled his eyes. "On the count of three… One…"
"Two…" She breathed out.
"Three!" They both said at the same time.
It was a close game…neither really knew who was going to come out on top… but in the end… age won over youth and as Damon did a small victory dance following her out of Chuck E. Cheese she had to restrain herself from setting him on fire!
"Oh don't be such a sore loser." He smiled darkly as she gave him a scathing look from the corner of her eye. "Look I'm over a 150 years old I've had a lot of practice."
"Over 150 and still working with a mental capacity of a 12 year old!" She muttered.
"Now… now… don't be mean." He chided passing her and stopping in front of the passenger door blocking her entry.
She exhaled deeply. "Okay fine… you won! What do you want to know?" She asked.
He stood there for a moment as though thinking very hard. "Who do you think is sexier… me or Stefan?" He asked.
"Are you serious?" She asked.
"No… I already know your answer…" He winked for good measure. Crossing her arms over her chest she tapped her foot impatiently. He sighed and grew serious. Folding one arm across his mid-section he let the other rest beneath his chin as he stared her down. "Okay… why haven't you been sleeping?"
She stood there for a moment stunned. This had been the longest she had gone without thinking about that night in the alley.
Was it because of him?
She sighed. "I uh… have been having nightmares." She remarked softly. He remained silent, waiting for her to continue. She swallowed hard. "About the night… the night I killed that vampire… I can't… I can't get it out of my mind…" She struggled with the words… as she ran a hand roughly through her hair. "I've been seeing him…in my dreams… sometimes when I'm awake."
"It's not as if you haven't killed vampires before. You torched a basement full of them on Founder's Day." He pointed out.
She sighed. "Yeah…but I didn't have to watch them die… I knew they were down there… I knew but I didn't have to see them… that night… I don't know it was just different… and now I can't stop thinking about it." She exhaled a shaky breath, her eyes clouded with a mist of unfallen tears.
"So you feel guilty?" He asked and the question comes off as a mixture of disbelief and genuine curiosity.
She shrugged. "Yeah… I guess."
His eyes remained on her face, her profile full of angles and all the neat contours that made up Bonnie Bennett. The soft curve of her nose, the sharp definition of high cheekbones, the slope of her chin… and it hits him quite suddenly how little he knows of her… the inner-workings of her mind is such an enigma to him because he never in his wildest dreams would have ever considered the possibility that she could find compassion for those that meant her harm.
'Who was this girl?'
He sighed. "Well, don't!" He's not advising he's ordering her. "You can't feel guilty every time you have to witness someone else's downfall… even if you're the one causing it; especiallyif you're the one causing it. Thinking anything else could cost you your life; is that what you want?"
She furrowed her brow. "How can you say that?"
"Because I know I'm right! All guilt does is slow you down… makes you weak… makes you vulnerable… none of which you can afford!"
"You've never felt guilt about anything? You've never felt remorse or wanted to do things differently?" She asked.
He doesn't speak just stares back at her in tense silence. His face is unreadable and she thinks maybe there might be something that he wants to tell her… that he wants to share. Without thought she reaches out… the tips of her fingers graze his forearm.
But she's not prepared for the surge of energy that overpowers her senses and buckles her knees. It can only be described as a vast eruption of lights that gradually reshape into images and overwhelm her mind. Showing her a lifetime of memories in the time span of just a few moments; it's sensory overload and nearly renders her unconscious.
She has to physically yank herself away from him to break the connection… to stop the flow of energy that is passed between them. Her breathing is harsh, her heart hammering against her chest as though it's trying to break free. And as her eyes meet his, she ignores the concern and confusion reflected in his prismatic blue orbs. Instead she reaches back and with all the force she can manage, slaps him hard across the face.
"You son-of a bitch…you lied to me!"
To Be continued…