"What's going on with you?" Caroline scrutinizes me with a scowl on her face, like I'm a piece of a puzzle that doesn't quite fit in the bigger picture.

I take a sip of my strawberry detox before, with the utmost expression of innocence, asking her calmly, "What do you mean?"

My answer only seems to throw her back furthermore. It's obvious that she's been expecting an angrier reaction from me. "What I mean is," she still finds it in herself to put up with my calm demeanor, "First you give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek. Voluntarily, if I may add! Then you start chatting as if someone winded you up." She puts her hands in front of herself, as if she's taking a defensive stance. "Not that I mind, talk all you want, it's just that's usually my job. You're calm and quiet, I'm a chatter box. And then..," she lifts one finger in the air, "As the icing on the cake, you flirt with the waiter!"

Now she gets a reaction out of me. "I didn't flirt with anyone! I have a boyfriend," a smile creeps on my lips as the word boyfriend leaves them.

"Oh please," she waves off my excuse, "Harmless flirtation has never hurt anyone. I do it all the time, especially with that guy at Wendy's. One smile is all it takes for my cinnamon late to have extra delicious cinnamon foam," she smiles confidently, proud of herself. "I bet your strawberry detox tastes extra strawberry today," she winks at me.

I shrug. "It tastes the same as always."

Actually, it does taste more delicious than usual. I don't know if the guy really popped an extra strawberry in there because I flashed a smile at him while ordering the drink, or am I just in such a great mood so everything tastes, smells and seems better.

"Liar," she spats, her eyes rolling. "No, seriously," she goes back to her initial question, "You seem less tense."

Her eyes wander all over me, as if she's inspecting every piece of me separately for possible clues. Then, in an instant, her eyes widen with knowledge as if she had finally figured it out.

She leans over the table, so close to me that our faces are almost touching. When she whispers I can feel her hot breath on my skin, full of vanilla cappuccino - "Did you have sex?"

I furrow my brows. "No," I say simply.

She falls back into her chair, her face conveying disappointment. "Oh," she lets out a small breath, but still watching me carefully, like she knows I'm hiding something. Caroline is good at reading people - almost too good - it's her sixth sense. I guess my face says or does something I'm not aware of, because Caroline jerks herself forward, squinting at me. "But there is something, isn't there?"

She doesn't even let me respond, or maybe I do in a way I'm not aware of, because a moment later she exclaims - "There is! Sing little birdie!"

I actually ponder about should I tell her or not - not because I don't want her to know, but because I don't know how to make the right words come out of my mouth in correct order.

"Well," I decide to try my best. Something has happened to me, something big, and I have to share it with someone. And I can't share it with my mum or Jenna out of obvious reasons, and I can't share it with Stefan because, well, he was there. Also, Caroline is my friend, and if she found enough strength to open up to me when it comes to delicate things in her life, she deserves the same treatment from me. "We didn't have sex, but something went down between us. Something of sexual matter," I can feel myself blush as I say those words. Images from couple of nights ago come rushing back at me.

A wry smile climbs up Caroline's face as she settles into her chair, crossing her arms over her chest. "And by your body language, I can tell exactly what that something was," she says teasingly, which only makes me blush harder.

I turn my look away from her, feeling uncomfortable under her amused gaze.

"Well, congratulations," she says, which catches my attention enough to look back at her. "Not many guys would go for that, especially not our age," she rolls her eyes, "They're too selfish."

Stefan is anything but selfish, especially when it comes to me. He keeps giving me more than he's prepared to give anyone else.

"I have to ask, though," her eyebrows furrow and I tense, because I can feel a question coming, one I'll have to think hard about in order to give her an answer. "Since getting naked in front of someone is obviously not an issue for you anymore," she points out, not judgmentally, but teasingly, "What's stopping you from sleeping with him?"

Yes, what's stopping you? my inner voice says.

Nothing.

And everything.

"It's.. it's complicated," I murmur in my chin, unsure she had even heard my answer.

"Complicated how?" she's not selfishly curious, nor is this her way of tormenting me - making me talk about things I don't even understand myself. She just wants to understand. Maybe she wants to help me understand as well.

"We're not about that," as those words come out of my mouth I realize how idiotic they sound. Ignorant. Like a lame excuse, pulled out of nowhere by force. "Stefan and me, we're not physical.." I try to explain. But that's a lie. We are very much physical. He's my poison and my antidote all in one. When I'm not near him, my body is craving for him. My skin feels empty, underwhelming, incomplete, when it's not pressing next to his. And my lips are always hungry for his kisses. And now he's awoken other parts of my body as well. He unlocked all these feelings hidden deep inside of me, feelings that were sleeping like Aurora in a tall tower behind locked doors, and they're pulling me towards him.

I love him with every part of my being, I realize. From outside to in, and other way around.

"Stefan brings out the best in me," I feel sure in my words, I feel sure they're the correct ones, "He understands me even when I don't say a word. Sometimes I think that's when he understands me the best. I'm not saying he's perfect, or that I keep him on a high horse," I put my hands in front of me defensively, "He's as perfect as any human can come to perfection, which is miles away from it."

But that's the point. My only window to romance were my parents and movies, and lets be honest, the way my parents met and stayed together is extremely rare. Maybe even rarer than what goes down in the movies. I kept waiting for someone like that, for someone who will change my life with some grand gesture. Stefan didn't come as a hurricane, he came as a drizzle, and the thing people don't realize is when you gather all the drops, they weigh on you heavily.

"But he's real. And he makes me feel alive. And I don't want to taint that," I finish.

Caroline frowns, either pondering about what I've just shared with her, or thinking about what she's going to say back to me.

"Elena," she says my name just like my mum would say it before pointing out where I went wrong, "Sleeping with Stefan won't taint your relationship, it will only make it stronger. What you would share with him, it requires great amount of trust."

"I don't want to feel like his charity case," I blurt out.

She brings her eyebrows closer together, evidently confused. "What?"

"I know the approach he's going to take," I say, getting irritated by having to answer all these questions I really don't want to talk about, "Like I'm a child who needs instructions to assemble a new toy."

"Elena - " she starts, but I cut her off immediately.

"I know, I know," I say before she gets a chance to get her thought out, "I kinda am. I'm inexperienced and it would be my first time. But I don't want to feel like a victim," I try to explain, hoping she would understand where I'm coming from. "I don't want candles and rose petals or whatever," I'm done with that life. I'm done with living inside of my head, like I'm a character from one of my books. I'm alive, I'm real, and my life is not two hours long movie storyline. "I don't want to feel inadequate, but like his equal, just as I am when it comes to every other aspect of our relationship."

I can see she doesn't agree with me, I can see it in her expression. She doesn't think we can be equal in this matter, at least not in the beginning.

But she wants to help me and encourage me because she's my friend and that's what friends do. "Then take the matter in your own hands," she tells me.

The lines of my face jump up with amusement. "How?"

"Well, all things aside, you do want to have sex with him?"

"Well, yeah," I nod, wondering when did we grow up so fast? I feel like we were sitting here not so long ago, at this exact spot, giggling at cheesy teen magazines, not talking about sex in serious terms. In present tense.

"Then don't let him come to you, you go to him," she proposes, "It really doesn't take much skill to seduce a guy, all you need to do is take your clothes off," she rolls her eyes, showing her obvious distaste of their weak will. It makes me smile. "But if you want to do it properly," she grins widely, like a Cheshire cat, "Use your imagination. And I know you've read enough books and seen enough movies to know how to do that."

I run across the street, my feet bare, warm asphalt tickling my skin.

Wearing shoes, or slippers, would ruin the mood - they wouldn't go well with what I'm currently wearing. I'm taking my heels with me, high silver pumps I've borrowed from Caroline a long time ago and dug out of my closet just now, because I can't run in them. Well, technically, I can, but I doubt I would come far before falling on my face. I have to be quick - it's dark, but it's not so late at night. It's barely past eight in the evening, but thanks to October the moon is already up in the sky. I can't risk any of the neighbors seeing me, because the news would come to my mum quicker than I would arrive at my destination. I'm hoping that her gossip friends are busy with making their children eat all the green from their plates to notice a half naked girl running across the street.

Stefan told me Damon is taking their mum to see his new apartment and then Rebekah and him are taking her out for dinner. I saw them leave half an hour ago, which is when I started getting ready, so that means they won't be back for two more hours at least.

I wanted to call. I was one touch away from dialing his number at least ten times, but I also wanted it to be a surprise, so I gave up on it.

When I climb on his porch, my heart is thudding in my chest, roaring like a lion. I put my heels on and ring the doorbell, I can't lose any more time and risk someone seeing me. I'll have to gather my strength and courage in the process.

I can see the light pouring out from his living room and, soon enough, I can hear footsteps.

When the doors open I don't even wait long enough to see who's behind them, I sneak inside.

"Elena?" I hear Stefan's confused and surprised voice as I squeeze myself inside between him and the door. I'm desperate to come inside, to safety, before wandering eyes of our neighbors see me crossing the street dressed like this. I'm lucky I don't trip and fall on my face in my haste to get inside.

I move further into the hallway before turning around. He shuts the door, still dazed by what just happened. He knows I'm not impulsive or unpredictable, so coming over without calling first probably seems off to him. I know he doesn't mind, but he probably thinks something is wrong.

When he sees me he furrows his brows, making them knit closer together. Not the reaction I was expecting, but I don't let it throw me off as his eyes wander over the length of my body.

"Are you wearing a house robe?"

Yes. Well, if this tiny piece of silk that's barely covering my thighs can pass as a house robe. Caroline made me buy it, as well as the lingerie I'm wearing underneath. I never wore a garter belt.

"I saw your mum leave," I say timidly, and as soon as I hear the words come out of my mouth I know I started this whole thing all wrong. I was planning to go with confident and seductive, not with acting like Bambi. "Not that I was stalking you," I say defensively and he raises his eyebrow in amusement, "You told me she won't be home, and I just didn't want to run into her."

His eyes are telling me that he understands why I wouldn't want to run into her right now.

"Yes," I stand taller, trying to sound more confident, sure in myself, "I am wearing a house robe," my hands go to my waist and my fingers start playing with the belt that's barely squeezing around me. "But that doesn't matter," I turn around and start towards the living room. I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror by the stairs. My legs look nice like this - in heels and silk falling over them, even if it's the tiniest amount of material. I've loosened my hair so it's falling across my back in its full length.

"Elena - " he starts talking, a warning tone present in his voice, but I ignore him.

I untie my belt and the robe falls down my body, onto the floor, and I silently pray it doesn't get caught up in my heels.

My skin looks almost as silky as the material I've been wearing just a moment ago.

I look at him over my shoulder, cutting him off by saying. "What matters is what's underneath," I flash him a smile.

He's gaping at me, clearly taken back by this, but there's also caution in his eyes, which I prescribe to surprise.

I start walking away from him, towards the living room, when I hear him calling after me. "Elena, don't - " he starts saying, but at one point I can no longer hear what he's saying clearly.

I walk into the living room, only to find out someone's there.

A lot of someone's.

I think our whole football team is in Stefan's living room.

When I enter the room, my heels thumping against the floor, they turn their heads around in my direction. Some of them open their mouths widely in surprise and those who don't channel all of their energy into seizing me up.

It's disgusting - standing in front of a bunch of guys, half naked, dressed into what you only wanted the boy you love see, when they're looking at you as if they would rip you apart.

I freeze in place, unable to move. I want to cover myself with something, but there's nothing in sight. Right now I'm thankful I didn't buy that see through lingerie Caroline proposed I buy.

I can see my dignity falling in slow motion, shattering all over the place into small pieces I'll have to look for with a magnifying glass.

"Elena?" I hear a familiar voice, and my eyes dart towards Matt, who's sitting not so far away from me. I think he's the only person in the room who's looking me in the eyes.

In that moment Stefan appears behind me, draping something over my shoulders. My robe. I pull my arms into the sleeves and tie the robe around me. I can feel Stefan's fingers squeezing my shoulders.

"That really doesn't help, man," one of the guys I don't know says with a grin.

"Shut up," Stefan spats him, his voice hard, drops of anger pouring over his lips.

I can feel him steering me out of the room. "I'll be right back," he says to the crowd.

"Hey man, take all the time you need," I don't know who says it, but his voice sounds amused. I can see Stefan give him a sharp look over the shoulder as we leave the room.

"I'm - " I start, my throat contracting as if it's trying to squeeze itself out of existence, "I'm just going to leave," I try to pull myself out of his grip when I feel tears start to swell in my eyes.

"No," he tightens his hold on me, "I'm not letting you go home like this," he says firmly.

I don't object since I don't really want to go home. I barely sneaked out like this, I can't imagine having the luck of sneaking in unnoticed as well.

So when he starts leading me upstairs, I let him. We enter his room and, instinctively, I sit on the edge of his bed.

"I'm sorry," I say in a hushed tone, my voice tearing by the edges, "I didn't know you had company. I should have called first."

"Hey, hey," he crouches down in front of me, his voice soothing, worry hiding somewhere beneath it. "You have nothing to be sorry about. Are you okay?" he lays his palm on my cheek gently.

I nod, but even as I do I can tell I'm not sure in my actions. "I'm just little shaken up," I admit, "I never wanted anyone but you see me dressed like that. Standing there half naked in front of them, I felt really cheap. And self conscious."

He takes my hands and forces them together before enveloping them with his own and planting a kiss on my joined fingers. "I'm so sorry, baby," he murmurs with his lips still pressing onto my skin. It's pleasant, the way his voice vibrates against me. "You have nothing to be self conscious about, by the way," he adds before asking the question he intended to ask in the first place, "Do you want to change?"

"Yes, please," I say meekly, my insides still shaking from recent events, even though Stefan's warming me up pretty quickly, his presence making me forget the unpleasant feeling that planted its seed inside of me.

He lets go of me and walks over to the dresser, trying to find something appropriate for me to wear.

I take my heels off, my feet starting to hurt already. I stand up, ready to take me robe off so I can change from this material that's squeezing around my body like it's trying to knock my breath out of me. I discard the robe and throw it over his chair.

When I look at him to see if he found anything for me to wear, I find him standing few steps away from me, clothes folded neatly in his hands, his eyes all over my body.

He's not looking at me like those other guys were, though. Is there hunger and want and need in his eyes? Sure. But he's looking at me as if he would rather lay me down on the softest surface and shower my body with kisses than tear me apart in order to satisfy himself.

It's obvious that he likes what he sees, and I don't mind. That was my intention, after all, for him to like this version of me as much as he likes all the other versions. Because, in a weird way, I feel comfortable in this. Not comfortable enough to parade around in front of strangers half naked like models in a runaway do, but comfortable enough to show myself like this to my boyfriend.

"Elena," the tone of his voice doesn't match the look in his eyes at all, "Why did you do this?" he asks curiously, as if it's not obvious. "I mean, I obviously don't mind," he smiles gently, "I just don't understand."

I stare at him blankly, thinking about how I'll be unable to make these words leave my lips. "I thought it would be a nice touch before, you know.." if you can't say it, you shouldn't be doing it. "Having sex," I blurt out.

His eyes go wide. "Just few days ago you said you're not ready. Did I do something to push you?" he asks fearfully.

"No," I shake my head immediately to take his worry away, "I was ready as much as I wasn't. I'm ready because I love you, Stefan," I say it casually, like it's not a big deal. Like I'm not saying it for the first time.

I say it without planning. When your heart connects with your brain, words come out of your mouth whenever they want, however they want, because they're no longer supervised by either your heart or your brain.

I tell him I love him not to make a point, nor do I expect it to make a difference, but because it's true. That's how I feel, and there's no need to hide it anymore.

"You do?" he asks timidly as if he never expected me to love him or to say it out loud.

"Yes," I say confidently.

"That's good," he nods, still in a daze from my confession, one that took him off guard, "Because I love you too."

I knew that he loves m. I'm falling in love with you, he told me some time ago. Loving someone is a borderline, separating two states of your soul, just like clouds are separating the sky from the ground. Falling in love with someone is falling beyond that line, falling from a cloud, and you can choose to fall in whichever direction you want. Sometimes it feels like you're falling in both.

"I'm not ready for you to treat me like an ignorant child when it comes to sex, which is inevitable, I realize," I say sadly because Caroline was right - we can't be equal, at least not in the beginning. We can't be, because we're not. I'm a virgin and he's not. I just have to deal with the fact that doesn't mean that I'm not good enough. "I wanted to take matters into my own hands so you don't have time to prepare some big romantic gesture and make a big deal out of it being my first time," I explain, hoping he would understand where I'm coming from.

"I don't think you're ignorant," he frowns, "And I would never think of treating you like you are. But it is a big deal," the frown drops and his face softens, "Not just for you. For me too. Elena.." he walks over to me, closing the distance between us, "Our first time together shouldn't be just because my mum isn't home so we have the house to ourselves. And I don't want to give you a romantic gesture as a form of saying you're not good enough. I want to give it to you because you don't deserve anything less. Okay?"

I think his words through. I'm always in the out. I was obsessed with romance for so long and for so long it was unreachable to me, so I formed a thought that it's unreachable to everyone. But that's not true. People can be romantic outside of fiction. And that's real as everything else.

So I smile at him, "Okay."

"Here," he gives me the clothes he's been holding all this time, "Change into this."

I take the clothes from him. "You know," I grin, "If the guys downstairs knew you're refusing sex they would be so disappointed in you."

"I don't care what they think. Never did," he shrugs, "I'm in a relationship with you. Not them. But, uh, you keep this for another time," he gestures at what I'm wearing.

A light laugh escapes my throat. "Will do."

"Guys and me are discussing our next game, we should be done in a few. Are you going to be okay here alone?" he asks. If I asked him to stay, he would.

And that's enough for me. Just the knowledge that I can count on him.

"Yes. You go play with your friends."

He smiles before putting the palms of his hands on my cheeks and kissing me on the forehead.

That night, Stefan and me did end up sleeping together, just not in the way I planned. We fell asleep next to each other, my head on his chest, our legs intertwined, like we're trying to melt into one person.

And for several hours, as we slept, we did.

AN: I've come to realize that most I love you's come unplanned in the worst possible moment which turns it into the best of times.