October is coming to an end, but it seems that summer has no intention of leaving. I remember this time last year, we were already in our sweaters and warm, fuzzy socks, but this year we're still in shorts and summer dresses. They even kept putting off the annual end of the summer party, but recently they have decided they don't want to wait anymore - they don't want to risk cold weather sneaking up on us.
"You have to go!" Caroline yelled at me for even daring to state otherwise, "We're seniors! This is our last annual end of the summer party!" she continued telling me in a high pitched voice. I kept eyeing her - like summer will stop ending just because we graduate from high school.
Our last annual end of the summer party would, at the same time, be my first one. It's not that I had much choice in going, but I wouldn't mind skipping this one as well. Why join a tradition I won't be able to continue?
While Caroline was yelling at me about how I don't care about the sacred traditions of high school and teenage rebellion, Stefan texted me, asking me are we going.
R we going to the end of summer party?
I don't know when the two of us became we people. I don't know since when I took the responsibility of making decisions in someone else's name, or letting someone else make decisions for me. If I'm not going, does that mean he's not allowed to go either? Is there some kind of a rule? Are we tied to each other now, with some kind of a cord invisible to a naked human eye?
Because I don't want to have that kind of a control over someone. I don't want to clip someones wings.
Caroline says that's how couples act - they check in with each other before checking in with anyone else. It doesn't mean we can't go our separate ways, it means that it's necessary to check if it's okay to go our separate ways. Then she started talking about symbiosis while I kept staring at my phone screen, thinking how no one informed me that Stefan and I are a couple now.
"You kinda have to go now," she shrugged my protests off, "Because a lot of people are looking forward to seeing Stefan without a shirt on and if you take that away from them, it might get physical. And not in a good way."
I guess that's the main reason I'm against going to this party. It's on a lake, a swim hole, few minutes away from the town, into the woods. And this party includes taking your clothes off and getting into a swimsuit, something I'm not a fan of. I don't think my body is ready for a swimsuit yet, even if it's one piece, even though I'm pretty sure Caroline would never let me wear it, unless it's unusually attractive. And attractive one piece swimsuits have less material than bikinis, so it all comes down to the same thing.
I should have put my foot down and told my friend the truth. I should have replied to Stefan can't go, but you go, have fun!, instead of yes! can't wait!
So here I am, sitting on the passengers seat of Stefan's car, listening to him talk about how much he loves to swim, how he was in the swim team in his old school - apparently this boy is multi talented - all because I'm part of a team now. Because this is our senior year. Because aunt Jenna says I should learn to love my body because it's the only one I have.
When we arrive at the swim hole, there's a bunch of people already there - swimming, swinging on a car tire tied to a tree branch, chatting on the surface. I can see Caroline and Bonnie in their shorts and swimsuit tops, with drinks in their hands, talking to Tyler and Matt. Stefan takes our stuff out of the trunk and in the meantime Caroline notices us and hops over in our direction.
"You came!" she throws her arms around my neck, leaning into me with her full body weight, screaming into my ear like she's actually surprised I came. I talked to her on the phone this morning, she knew I'm coming.
"We did," I say in return, enveloping my own arms around her.
She giggles into my skin before letting me go. She's tipsy. She has to be. I don't think it's so wise to get drunk in such close proximity to the water.
"You're drunk," I state when I get a chance to look into her glassy eyes.
She lets out a bubbly laughter as she waves a finger left to right in front of my eyes. "A-ah," her voice is sweet and light, just like summer, "I'm just enough."
I knit my eyebrows closer together, "What?"
"What she means is," I hear Stefan's voice coming from behind me. He throws his arm over my shoulders and pulls me closer, making me lean into him, "That she's not too drunk that she doesn't know what she's doing, but she's drunk enough to slip away from reality," he grins at Caroline who's swaying from left to right, twirling a strain of her hair around her finger.
"See?" she says, all of a sudden too occupied with her hair, "Your boyfriend gets it."
I stiff at that sentence and I can feel Stefan shift uncomfortably next to me as well. I can't believe she just said that, especially when she knows we haven't discussed what we are to each other now. Not in words. He never asked me to be his girlfriend? Do people ask stuff like that, or does it after a while just become an assumption? They always skip that part in books and movies, the official are-we-dating-now talk. They just go from not dating to dating. Is that how it happens in real life as well?
It's funny how books prepare you for sword fights with mythical creatures, but not for asking a boy you like to be your boyfriend.
"Anyway," I think she realizes her mistake because her voice becomes serious and shaky, "The cabin is that way. Change into your swimsuits and join us over there," she points to where the rest of the group is standing, laughing to something Bonnie is saying.
I've never seen Bonnie in the center of attention.
I let Stefan go change first while I prepare myself for what's, now, inevitable. He changes pretty quickly and leaves the door open for me.
I take my swimsuit, my towel and flip flops out of my bag before going in and shutting the door behind me.
"Okay," I say to myself quietly, under my breath, to make sure no one can hear me, even if they're standing outside, "You can do this. It's like wearing really tiny shorts. And a extremely low cut top."
The last time I bought a swimsuit my body was totally different. My boobs were smaller, my ass flatter, my hips narrower. The bikini I had at home didn't fit me. It was a swimsuit for a 13 year old girl. So I had to buy a new one for this occasion. When I finally found the one that I like, I tried it on, peeping through my fingers just to make sure it covers everything that needs to be covered, without looking at it further.
When I get out of my clothes and into the new bikini, which is tight on my skin, I take a deep breath before turning around towards the mirror on the cabins wall.
"It's not that bad," I say to myself before opening my eyes.
No. It's not that bad.
My eyes go wide in shock.
It's worse.
There's a big, red splotch above my left hip, hundreds of tiny red dots on my skin, turning purple, from the last internal bleeding I've had. There are several bruises all over my torso, they vary in size and color - I look like a punching bag, a map, a battlefield where soldiers forgot to finish the job. My bones are sticking out from everywhere, especially my ribs and hips and shoulders. The paleness of my skin is the least of my problems.
The image before me brings tears to my eyes - I look like a withering tree, with arms and legs like branches destroyed by a freezing winter, too exhausted after carrying the weight of the snow.
"Elena?" I hear the knocking on the cabin door. "Are you okay?" it's Stefan. I catch my breath at the sound of his voice.
"Yes," I answer meekly, grabbing a towel to cover myself.
"I've thought I've heard - " he starts saying, but he can't finish his sentence. I've thought I've heard you crying. "Are you sure you're okay?" he asks again.
"Yes," I manage to squeeze out.
He stays quiet for a while, then I hear him breathe out. "No," he says firmly, "You're not. Can you let me in?" he asks.
I shiver at the thought of both of us in this confined space, my bones sticking out, poking him, my body visible on the mirror behind me and his eyes in front of me. I'm afraid to see the reflection of my own body in his eyes.
"Elena," he says my name gently, his voice pleading, "Can you please let me in?"
I take a deep breath and squeeze my eyes shut as I force my fingers to open the lock on the door.
He shuffles inside quickly, almost instantly as the doors fall open, and I tighten the towel around my body. I turn my back to him and lower my look down.
"Elena," his voice is so gentle as he says my name, more gentle than I could ever be and I realize that my body is not made for his, not this body, body that is falling apart, not this sickly, fragile body, "What's wrong?" he asks.
I don't answer him. I can't face him. I squeeze my eyes shut to stop myself from crying.
He puts his hands on my shoulders and I shiver. "Tell me what to do," he says pleadingly, like a child lost in a situation he doesn't know how to handle.
His lips fall on the skin of my shoulder. "Tell me what's wrong," he whispers into my skin.
After some time I manage to say quietly, "Everything."
I look up only to meet his confused look in the mirror, "What do you mean?"
I know guys hate when girls complain about their bodies. I know that much. And yet, I do it anyway. "I'm pale," I point to my skin, "I'm too skinny. There are bones everywhere, bones that should be deep inside of my body. And bruises. So many bruises," I choke, but I refuse to cry in front of him, "I hate cancer. It ate me from the outside as well as from the inside."
I can see him pull his lips into a thin line. I wouldn't blame him if he walked out right now. If he walked away from me and never looked back. Most people would.
But he doesn't. "Turn around," is what he says instead.
Out of shock, I do as he says, almost immediately.
"Look," he points down his torso, under his ribs. I look down and see a small scratch there. Small and thick, extremely red, but the skin around it pale, paler than the rest of it. It looks like someone peeled that part of his skin right off of his body and left his flesh exposed.
Such a tiny mark.
Then he starts turning around.
I gasp.
It goes all the way around, on his back, it ends where his spine begins. As it goes furhter it becomes narrower, little less red, little less visible, but still, it's there.
"How did you get that?" I ask, staring at it. His skin is so perfectly smooth, not too pale and not too tanned, just enough. Not even that scar can make it look imperfect or rough.
He doesn't say anything for quite some time and when he finally answers, he does it quietly, "Football."
But his voice jumps and I know that he's lying. I can tell. But I don't say anything because I know how it is when people pressure you to talk about things you're not ready to talk about.
"Will you show me yours now?" he asks and my eyes dart in the direction of his so quickly that I get a light headache.
No. No, no, no. I can't, I won't, he can't see me like this.
My mind is screaming at me to make him get out, to leave me alone, to find another girl whose scars look as beautiful on her skin as they do on his.
But I don't. Instead I find myself letting go of my towel. I don't know what I'm doing. And when the towel falls on the floor I still don't know what I'm doing.
He looks down my body, but his expression stays unchanged.
He moves his hand, his fingers hovering over my left hip, but he doesn't lower them on my skin, like he's afraid his touch is going to hurt me. It probably would, more than any needle going through my skin ever did, and I've head some thick ones.
"What's this one?" he asks.
I look down at it. There are so many puncture wounds on my body. They tried to find a vein everywhere. "Internal bleeding," I say, "It will go away," I don't know why I have a need to clarify that.
He fingers move to a long, straight bruise just above my stomach. "Do you remember how you got this one?" he asks while staring at it.
I feel like he's staring at some hidden part of me even I can't see.
"I bent over the kitchen counter too hard," I admit.
He takes that piece of information in, memorizing it. "Mhm," is all he says, moving on to the next one, on my ribs, "And this one?"
"My brother punched me by accident. Mum yelled at him. I apologized to him for mum yelling at him," I say, remembering the event that happened just few days ago.
He smiles. He actually smiles at my silly little bruise.
"All of these bruises, they're wounds," he looks up at me, "Your battle scars. They're a sign that you've survived. Not just cancer. But today, and yesterday, and day before yesterday, and past 17 years of your life. They're a sign that you're alive. World leaves a mark on everything that moves through it. Sometimes, those marks are scars, but not all scars are bad. What do you see when you look at them?" he asks me and I'm so mesmerized by his words that I forget how to talk.
"Weakness," I say after some time of silence, "Something that shouldn't be there."
"I see stories," he tells me, "You are made out of so many stories. Some pretty horrific ones," he answers honestly, "But you're more than these scars, Elena. You are so much more than a half written page of foul sounding chapters. For starters, you're beautiful," he moves his hand up my body, up, up, up, until his fingers land on my cheek and he brushes it with the tip of his thumb, "You have no idea," he mutters, "You're so beautiful, Elena, that you make me want to write really sucky poetry because that's the only kind I know how to write."
That brings a smile to my face.
"But I would do it for you. Just to see that smile one more time."
He looks at me intently to make sure I got the message. I did, and I believe him. I believe him every word he says.
"I don't see that," I admit.
He won't let me throw him off, he just won't, so he answers simply, "You will."
And he lowers his lips on mine. He kisses me, first gently, slowly, tasting every inch of my lips, then his pace quickens and before I know it he's kissing me fiercely, with every drop of energy he has.
And in this moment I'm thankful my lips are not a scar as well, because I know that, even if they were, I'd keep kissing him until I bled.
"Elena Gilbert!" Caroline yells my name when she notices Stefan and me walking towards the group that grew larger in our absence, "My friend, the supermodel," she whistles, which makes my cheeks blush intensively.
Just like them, I've put my shorts on, but didn't cover my torso. It took a lot of silent, mental preparation for me to come out looking like this.
"Your bikini is really cute!" some girl whose name I don't know chimes in.
"Thank you," I say politely, even though I can't place this girl anywhere. She looks familiar, though, I've probably seen her around the school.
"Is it new?" Bonnie wonders. She knows it is. Bonnie knows every piece of clothing I own. Maybe she's just trying to start a conversation. We haven't talked in a while.
"Yeah," I say, glancing towards her. Her face is expressionless as she stares at me. "I got it few days ago at - "
"Wait!" Caroline intercepts, her voice high, "Does that mean you went shopping without me?" she asks, clearly disappointed.
I don't say anything, I just lower my look to the ground, trying to avoid hers.
"Elena Gilbert," her voice is mellow when she says my name, "This friendship is cracking little by little," she starts shaking her head slowly, left to right.
I don't know is she joking or being serious, at least not until she looks up at me and cracks a smile.
"Who wants to go swimming!?" she shrieks out all of a sudden, already pulling her shorts down her long, lean legs.
No one says a thing. I look around the group and none of these people look like they want to go into the water. Some of them even walk away when she utters that question, while others just stare uncomfortably at her. Tyler's not here, I have no idea where he went, but if he were here I'm sure that he would be more than happy to join her.
"I'll go," Stefan says.
This doesn't surprise me. He did say he loves to swim, plus, he's nice enough to help a person out when no one else does.
Caroline doesn't seem fazed by the lack of interest others showed in going swimming with her - she acts like she hasn't even noticed. She grins at Stefan, "I'll race ya!" and she starts running towards the swim hole.
He runs after her and eventually catches up with her. She screams when he gets a hold of her, wrapping his arms around her waist. Her screams are muffled by the sound of both of them falling into water.
Without the two of them by my side I feel more then alone. I feel abandoned. While I was busy watching my friends run towards the water, the others have spread out, now talking to others. People I don't know. Bonnie is chatting with a girl who complemented my bikini and few others.
I'm completely and utterly alone.
"Does it bother you?" someone whispers into my ear, a familiar, hushed voice.
Just as I'm about to turn my head around to see who it is, someone jumps in front of me, shoving a plastic cup into my face. Matt.
"Juice," he says, light, silent wind rustling his golden hair.
I cock my eyebrow at him, an amused expression climbing up my features.
The corners of his lips go up, "Just juice."
I decide to trust him, so I take the cup out of his hands, bringing it to my lips.
Apple juice.
I lean against someones truck, my eyes following the crowd, smiling faces, people having fun. Matt follows my lead.
"So, does it bother you?" he asks again.
I don't quite know what he means by that. "Does what bother me?" I ask with a frown on the bridge of my nose.
He smiles like he doesn't believe that I don't know to what, or who, he's referring to. "The two of them," he points towards the swim hole, at Stefan and Caroline, who are laughing and splashing each other.
My throat tightens as I think about his question. I don't know, I've never thought about it before.
Caroline likes Tyler. But Caroline never likes anyone for too long. She could as easily like Stefan in five minutes from now. And she could as easily wrap him around her little finger. He would probably let her. Caroline comes without the baggage - she tends to leave her suitcases outside. She knows no one will steal them, they're too heavy with secrets and everyone else already have too many of their own.
So, I retort, "Why would it bother me?"
He huffs, like I've just asked the most ridiculous question ever. "Because your friend is acting with your boyfriend the way you're supposed to," his voice is serious when he says these words.
I look at the two of them in the water, laughing, talking, just being relaxed. Stefan never laughs in my presence. He smiles often, sure, but he never laughs. I never give him a reason to. Caroline is all butterflies and rainbows and freaking unicorns, while I'm all scars and gray clouds and sun that's always up in the sky but never shines.
Of course, I won't admit any of this to him, so instead I say, "He's not my boyfriend."
"Yeah, right," Matt answers sarcastically.
I finally look at him. "What's your point, Matt?" I ask in a hushed tone, "What do you want? To hurt me? To get back at me?"
He doesn't look at me, though, but stares in the distance, like he's thinking about it. His expression is hard, the lines of his face rigid. After a long period of silence he finally lowers his look to mine. "No," he shakes his head, his look mellow now, "Of course not," he says like the idea of him doing that is so out of this world, like he didn't act like it just minutes ago, "I actually came here to apologize. For my behavior recently. You were right," he clears his throat, "I viewed you as an achievement, so I forgot that you are a person, not a prize I could win before somebody else does," he says honestly and I can see that it's killing him. Then, panic fills his eyes, "It doesn't mean that I don't like you as a person," he says, rubbing the back of his neck with his fingers, "I think you're great, and I hope we can still be friends."
I don't have that many friends to refuse to be friends with any of them. Plus, I like Matt, he's a good guy. He made a mistake, but not a grave one. It's not like I'm innocent in this whole situation.
"Of course we can still be friends, Matt," I assure him.
His smile widens and he nods at me, ready to leave, when another question pops into his mind. "Hey," he calls out to me like I'm not standing just in front of him, "When you said I'm missing out on things because I'm too busy looking at you, what did you mean by that?" he asks curiously.
Bonnie's image pops into my mind. The moment I've realized she likes Matt in a way I never will. "That's not my place to say," I answer with a sympathetic expression on my face, but with no intention of betraying my friend.
Matt nods once again, with understanding, before turning his back to me and walking away.
I look back at where Stefan and Caroline were and realize they're not there anymore. I can't see them anywhere in the swim hole, or around it.
Chills go right through me, some unidentified fear.
I slap myself mentally. Even if Stefan is a kind of a guy to go after my best friend, which he isn't, Caroline would never fall for that. Because I'm her friend and she would never betray me like that. She doesn't even like Stefan, she likes Tyler - I console myself. Stefan is her friend. He's basically the only boy she managed to develop a relationship with without the romantic aspect. That's healthy. That's good for her.
"Hey," another voice pulls me out of my own head. I turn towards the direction it came from only to see Bonnie standing next to me, her fingers wrapped around a foul smelling plastic cup. Alcohol. "I saw you talking to Matt," she says sweetly. Too sweetly.
"Yeah," I nod affirmatively, "I was."
Silence falls between us as she keeps looking at me expectantly. I don't know what to do.
"About..?" she finally asks.
I knit my brows closer together, confused. Do I, from now on, have to give her a transcript of every conversation I have with Matt so she can make sure that I wasn't flirting with him? "Nothing special," I say, even though it's not exactly true. Then again, it's none of her business if she's coming to me with such an accusatory tone, like I'm some kind of a criminal. "Listen, Bonnie," I say nervously, "Are you still mad at me?"
She frowns at my question, but doesn't say anything, so I add, "I thought we're okay after our last conversation?"
"We are," she assures me, "It's just," she grimaces, taking my whole image in, "Elena I know would never put a bikini on. Or go to a party."
I frown at that statement. Does she even know how much strength and preparation it took me for doing both of these things?
Yeah, yesterdays Elena, two hours ago Elena would never do such a thing. But this minutes Elena is doing both of those things and she feels good about it.
"I'm just trying to adjust to the new you," she says defensively.
Before I get a chance to say anything, a pair of strong, wet arms wrap around me and pull me closer against an even stronger, wetter torso.
Caroline pops up in front of me and Stefan plants a kiss on my cheek.
"You're wet!" I yell at him through laughter, "And cold!"
He gives my cheek few more butterfly kisses before letting go of me and walking in front of me to stand next to Caroline. She has her hands behind her back, grinning.
"Where did the two of you disappear off to?" I ask playfully, trying not to sound too jealous, but Caroline winces anyway, like she knows what's on my mind. What that question is suggesting.
There's a group of girls, younger than us, passing by, whispering something. I can see them looking at Stefan, so I look at him as well. I don't know why, or how, I didn't pay much attention to it sooner - to the way he looks in his swim trunks. The muscles on his arms and torso are rock hard, shimmering under the sun, covered with water. He's not too buff, he's just enough, nice to look at. Everything today seems to be just enough. His trunks are hanging loosely on his hips, revealing his V line. I remember Caroline saying how extra hot that looks on a boy and I wonder has she noticed it on Stefan as well. He looks almost angelic, maybe even too much, with that gentle smile pulling on his lips, eyes greener than usual and golden, wet hair, moving slowly under the force of the wind. I look back at those girls in the same time they look at me. Their faces become serious, maybe even scared, like they're four years old and their mother caught them coloring the living room wall with their crayons, so they scurry off. It was never my intention to scare them. I have no rights to him, I want to tell them.
"There's a cookie bar," Stefan says proudly.
My eyes go wide at the words cookie bar. "Cookies," I say dreamily, "Where?"
Both of them chuckle at my reaction, like they're in sync. "Psssst," she nudges him with her shoulder, then shifts her attention to me, "We were talking about what kind of a cookie you like the most."
"I like all cookies," I say as fast as I can, basically drooling. I can already taste them in my mouth. "I don't discriminate."
Stefan laughs, but Caroline cocks her eyebrow at me. She pulls her hands from behind her back to show me what she's been hiding. There's a cookie on a bright yellow napkin on each of her palms.
"Now," she says, "Stefan insisted on chocolate chip cookie being your favorite," she points with her look towards one of the cookies. I look at Stefan who's grinning at me. Of course he remember chocolate chip cookies and the amount I could eat. The whole mountain of them.
Mmm, a mountain of chocolate chip cookies, my mind wanders off.
"But," Caroline's voice brings me back to reality as she shoves another cookie in front of my nose, "I know how much my best friend," she emphasizes the last two words, "Love peanut butter cookies."
I'm such an idiot. I've been jealous, thinking my best friend is off flirting with the boy that I like. I can't believe I even thought of such a thing, that Caroline is capable of doing something like that. To me, out of all people. I thought they're god knows where doing god knows what, when they were actually discussing me. Stupid, stupid girl.
"So, which one is it?" Stefan asks curiously, anticipating my answer.
I look from him to Caroline, some of the most important people in my life. In this moment probably the two most important. So I answer, "Both. I like both equally."
Stefan drops me off somewhere around nine in the evening. I find my parents curled up in front of the tv, my mothers head in my fathers lap. He's pulling his fingers through her long, thick, hazelnut hair.
I don't want to bother them, I don't want to ruin this moment for them, so I greet them and hurry upstairs under the excuse that I'm beat and that all I want to do is shower and sleep. Which isn't that far away from the truth.
When I come out of the shower, I notice that my phone is blinking. I have a message. From Stefan.
You had fun today?, he asks.
I smile at his question, the question he had asked me probably a million times today and my answer is always the same - Very much so.
So, people know me as your boyfriend now, huh?, he replies and I silently curse Caroline for blurting such a thing out loud.
Caroline talks a lot. You will get used to it, I make an excuse for the embarrassment my best friend had caused me.
No, no, he writes back, it has a nice ring to it. It's a good thing to be known for.
I blush when I read those words on my phone screen.
If you ever try to forge my signature on wedding papers, though, please let me know, another text comes straight after the previous one.
I laugh out loud at that one.
I can't promise anything, I reply.