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Chapter 12
Brad Paisley & Carrie Underwood – Remind Me
Do you remember how it used to be?
We'd turn out the lights and we didn't just sleep…
Remind me, baby, remind me.
So on fire and so in love,
That look in your eyes that I miss so much.
He followed me home. That bastard followed me home. I went to four different places to try and lose him and he still managed to find me. And now he knows where I live. Brilliant.
I first spotted him when I got out the gym – there was a black Range Rover parked up with its interior light on but no driver. I figured if someone cared so much about expensive cars they would care about a dead battery. Alarm bells started to ring in my head and my thoughts turned towards Damon ducking out of sight as soon as he saw me coming out the gym. Whilst I couldn't be sure, when I drove away I caught the Range Rover in the car window following in the distance. I drove to the petrol station and though the car didn't follow me in, when I pulled out 5 minutes later I saw it parked a little down the road. I thought I'd lost it on the way home from the supermarket but I can see the car parked right across the road from my flat with Damon situated inside. He hadn't got out yet and I hoped he wouldn't, hoped he was just checking the place out and he'd come back tomorrow. Tomorrow was better, tomorrow I could stay with Caroline and avoid coming home and not have to deal with him.
That didn't happen. I was starting to realise that when it came to Damon, nothing ever happened the way I wanted it to.
I wanted a drink. Actually, I wanted to dive headfirst into a pool of vodka and not resurface until I'd drank it all. I wanted to get so drunk that I forgot who Damon Salvatore was and forget that he'd told me he loved me over a text just as I was starting to get over him. But I'd been there before, I'd tried many a time to forget him. And, newsflash: It. Doesn't. Work. Because even at the bottom of a bottle of vodka, even when my vision gets blurred and the room starts spinning, even when I can't remember my own name… I always remember him. He's still the last person I think about before I fall asleep; even after all this time, he's still the only one I dream about.
So tonight I avoided the alcohol, fearing that my resistance was so weak that even one drink would drive me downstairs into his arms and as much as sober me wanted that as well, the stubborn part of my brain refused to let me give in. Instead, I settled into the couch with a mug of hot chocolate and the Friends boxset hoping to wait out the impending storm.
I had just finished The One With Chandler's Dad when the highly anticipated knock at the door came.
"Elena," his voice came when I didn't answer the door. "Elena, I know you're in there. Can you open the door please."
I stayed silent.
"Elena, please. We need to talk."
Did we? About what? How he wouldn't let me go? He thought he could profess his love for me over a text and everything would be okay?
"Please, baby, please."
His pet-name infuriated me and I spoke unfiltered. "I'm not your baby."
"Got you talking to me though," He paused for a moment, maybe hoping I would say something. When I didn't, I heard him sigh. "Maybe if I call you more you'll open the door."
I didn't answer so he started calling out pet names through the door. Baby, kitten, angel, darling, princess; they made me want to cry and be sick simultaneously.
I put on music to block him out but he shouted louder. I took a shower so I couldn't hear anymore but when I came out, he was still talking to the empty room. Realising this could go on all night unless I put a stop to it, I made a move. Wearing only a towel, I threw open the door only to tell him to shut up and go away but suddenly we were face to face. And it was the closest I'd been to him in years, and he still loved me, and I could smell his aftershave and god he smelt good, and he still loved me, and his eyes were pouring into mines, and he still loved me. Resistance evaporated as if it was never there at all.
I kissed him.
I didn't even give him time to speak or breathe and I don't know who was more surprised about what was happening. My head was spinning and the only thing I was sure of was that if I didn't kiss him, my world was going to collapse. I just needed to be near him, to feel his touch, to be with him.
And he kissed me back with equal desperation. As if my kiss was what he'd been craving for a long time, as if he'd been dreaming about it. Desire stirred inside the pit of my stomach and I was reminded of how long it had been since someone had made me feel like this. And his lips were like the fire to my ice and they melted everything until the only thing left was the feeling of him with me. And he was kissing me everywhere and all I wanted was to be as close as humanely possible and it happened without any of us agreeing on it but both of us definitely wanting it.
Somewhere along the line the towel I was wearing got left behind and we were skin to skin and he was looking at me like I was a work of art and I was looking at him looking at me thinking how one kiss had made everything so perfect so quickly. And he was speaking softly into my ear telling me how much he wanted me and how much he needed me and everything I'd dreamt about hearing for so long. And I pulled him closer and I clung so tightly to him and wished this moment would never end.
When I woke up in his arms a few hours later, the sun was just beginning to rise and everything was so peaceful. I watched the birds on the tree through the crack in the window; they weren't chirping like in movies but that didn't matter; in my head, they were singing a thousand love songs. Damon's arm, so hard and strong, was tight around me making me feel so warm and fuzzy inside. It was a feeling I hadn't felt in so long, it was complete unadulterated happiness, one that only came with a feeling of belonging. Like the feeling you get when arrive home after a long journey or when you visit your Grandmother's house and she's made your favourite dinner; it was the feeling of wearing your lover's jumper to bed and the scent makes you feel like he is right there with you. Happiness with no consequences and happiness I was going to soak in and enjoy for as long as possible.
I turned to look at the boy beside me and a sense of nostalgia formed as I realised I couldn't call him that anymore. I had never stroked stubble on his face before and his features were so much more rugged and manly. There was so many things that hadn't changed though; the messy waves of his morning hair, his thick eyebrows so wild and out of control. Almost, as if he felt my gaze, he began to stir and moments later, his eyes peeled open.
He didn't say anything immediately, he just stared at me. A lazy smile formed at his lips. "You're beautiful," he mumbled.
Someone once told me that when a boy tells you that you're beautiful you should run. That boys never say that unless they have an ulterior motive; usually that ulterior motive was sex. But right now, looking at him looking at me I knew Damon meant it. I knew he did think I was beautiful. I rearranged myself so I was lying on top of him, staring down and letting my face fall along the side of his face, he reached up to stroke my cheek and I looked at him like I've never saw him before.
Sometimes you meet a person and even though you have never liked blue eyes before, their eyes are your new favourite colour. That's like Damon, he had the kind of eyes that were wise beyond his years, the kind that made you fall in love with him over and over again. His eyes could end wars and cure cancer. And right now, those eyes were looking at me as if I was a masterpiece, as if I was the only person in the world. And when a boy with blue eyes looks at you like you like you put the stars in the sky, sometimes you can't help but kiss him.
There's a difference between waking up at 6 in the morning when the world in silent and your possibilities are endless and walking up three hours later. Three hours later, reality has seeped through the cracks and a horror washed over me.
Struggling out of the cocoon he'd formed around me, Damon fought against me and pulled me closer. "What's wrong?" He mumbled when he realised I was trying to move away. There was still sleep in his voice but he sounded happy; the kind of happy a few years ago would have made me cry because I knew that happiness was because of me. The kind of happy now that made me sick to my stomach.
"Let me go." I hissed. His arms dropped immediately and his eyes shot open like he'd been set on fire. I clawed my way out of his reach.
"Elena?" He jolted upright. His naked body stirred up feelings and I had to look away.
"This was a mistake. You need to go." I mumbled, throwing his clothes at him.
"What's wrong? What did I do?" His voice cracked and I knew if I took one look at him, I would run straight back to him.
"Nothing, I just need you to go. Please."
"Go where?"
"Home. Your hotel. Anywhere that's not here." I threw his trousers at him and moved around looking for anything to cover my naked body.
"Let me go, Damon."
"Elena. Look at me."
I wouldn't. I couldn't.
"Elena, please look at me."
Reluctantly, I peeled my gaze up from the floor to meet those eyes, those beautiful eyes that could make me jump off a bridge with enough persistence. Right now, they were filled with tears.
"Damon, I need you to go."
"Why?"
"Because," I sighed. He wouldn't leave until I told him the truth. "Because it took me two years to get over you and now you've just waltzed back into my life and told me you loved me and now this," I gestured to his t-shirt and trousers that he'd still yet to put on, "happened. And I'm not quite sure how I'm going to get over this yet but I know I have to, and I know I won't do that with you in my life."
"Elena, please-"
"Damon, just go please. I can't do this now."
He didn't. "Elena, I don't understand-"
"You told me you loved me," I could feel the tears bubbling but I wouldn't let him see me cry.
"I do. I love you so fucking much."
"No you don't, you love my body. You don't love me. And that's fine, there's plenty of other bodies out there for you to love."
He looked at me in disbelief. "That is the biggest load of bullshit I've ever heard! Yes, I'm attracted to your body but I'm in love with you, all of you, every piece of you.
I shook my head. "I need you to go."
"Please don't do this, baby. Please let me fix this." He was crying hard now and I couldn't bear it. I started crying too.
"There's nothing you can do to fix this Damon don't you see? I can't go back to the way it was before, when my life revolved around you. It ruined me, it ruined everything." Words were failing me now and the tears were coming hard.
He dropped to his knees now and he was holding my hand like he was about to propose to me. "Elena all I want is two things. I want you and I want us. Please please please, don't make me leave. I need you."
Any other words might have ended in a different scenario playing out but these words conjured up a memory. They took me back to the night before I left for Glasgow – a night I'd tried so hard to block out. The night he'd begged me for sex and then left in the morning like it meant nothing to him. Almost as if someone had turned a switch, my tears stopped. The emotion evaporated. My melting heart turned to stone. "No you don't. You don't need anyone except yourself. And I don't need anyone except myself either."
My abrupt change in tone created a momentarily pause in his emotional response. I took that as my opportunity to open the door. He was still naked but that was his fault, not mines. "Leave now, please."
"Don't you even care?" He was crying again.
"I cared once. It fucked me up. You fucked me up."
"Elena, please." He begged. "I don't want things to end like this."
"Go home, Damon." I shut the door. "I'm done with you. I want my life back"
I never heard from him after that day – he didn't call again or drop by the flat or the restaurant, he didn't even send me a text. And I was glad, so very glad. As time passed I stopped regretting what had happened that night, it offered me a form of closure that I didn't even know I was craving. There comes a day when you realise turning the page is the best feeling in the world – because you realise there's so much more to the book than the page you were stuck on. That's what life after Damon was like – I realised I had spent so much precious time antagonising over him when I could have spent that time on more important things. If Damon's visit had taught me one thing it was this: nobody was going to give me the world, if I wanted it I had to give it to myself.
