Over the next week, Damon spent more time with Elena than he did the entire time she was dating Matt. He drove them to and from school, and when he was available, he drove her to work. But he always picked her up, and he always showed up an hour early. He didn't make excuses as to why he was there, and Elena didn't ask, simply opened the side door for him. Now he knew how to work the register. When he dropped her home, he walked her to the door. She didn't invite him in, and he didn't ask. But the question was there, hanging in the air, another one of their little games, and one day he would win. He always won. And so it had been a week of conversation, a week of building back what they once had, a week of touching and teasing and mentally counting down the days. Today, it was twenty-two.
Elena returned to the booth with a bucket of popcorn and handed it to him. "You have got that look," she said.
Damon took the popcorn and sniffed it. "What look?"
"No butter, no salt," she said, "and that hungry I'm-going-to-eat-your-face look."
"Your face isn't what I would be eating should it come down to that," he told her.
"Damon!" she gasped.
He grinned at her as he sold two tickets to the couple who owned the comic book/sex toy shop. The husband winked. The wife said, "We have body paint in all flavours."
They left, and Elena was still staring at him with wide eyes and an even wider mouth and he looked away. The things he planned to do with that mouth.
She sat in a chair in the corner of the booth, and he stood behind the register, their regular routine. She said, "That meet in Richmond this weekend—you really think Matt is going to be there?"
He threw a handful of popcorn at her.
"Damon!" she squealed, already getting the brush and dustpan.
"Why do you care if he is going? Do you want to see him?"
"It depends."
He turned to her. "On what exactly?"
She scooped up the popcorn and emptied the dustpan in the trash. "On whether or not you can lend me $800…"
He switched the ticket booth sign to closed and shut the curtains. "You owe Matt money or something?"
"No," she said, sitting back down, her hands empty. "I want to pay his share of the car, and I don't have enough. I tried to get a credit card, but it won't be here in time. I will pay you back as soon as I get it."
"The car was a gift, Elena."
"And if it came from my dad alone, I would appreciate it, but you don't know Matt. There is an ulterior motive for everything. I just don't know what it is yet," she said.
"Okay." He nodded. "I will front you the cash, but don't pay me back with a fucking credit card. The interest rates on those things are ridiculously high. Just pay me back whenever. If you need more, it is no problem." He hated talking about Matt, and he hated the sudden awkwardness it brought, especially in such a tight space. He looked at the time. 9:15. He should leave, drive, clear his head, and come back when it was time. "I will be back at ten," he told her.
"Where are you going?"
"I forgot a thing…for my dad."
"Okay."
He left but came back at 10:02, and the first thing Elena said was, "What got into you?"
Damon sighed, hands on the wheel. "I just don't like talking about Matt, okay? And you can't be pissed that I get mad when you bring him up."
She didn't respond, and they spent the drive to her house in silence. He got out, walked her to the basement door. "I'm sorry," she said, unlocking the door and turning to him. "I just thought…" She trailed off, looked away.
"Thought what?"
Her eyes met his. "I thought I could talk to you about this, that you, out of everyone, would understand how important it is for me to cut ties with him once and for all so I can move on…especially considering you are the one I plan on moving on with."
Damon felt like a dick. He stepped forward, one hand on her waist, the other in her hair, pulling her to him. Then he leaned against the doorframe, one foot in her room. "You want me to stay?" he asked.
"Yes."
His heart skips a beat. But then she added, "But you shouldn't." She kissed his cheek, guided him back outside. "Twenty-two days," she told him.
Twenty-two days turned to twenty-one turned to twenty, which was also the day of the track meet in Richmond. Damon had to leave by 5 am to get there by 6 for registration. At 4:45, while he was packing his gear, his regular alarm went off at the same time there was a knock on his door. Elena was on the other side, her hair a mess, her eyes half closed, and he didn't even bother hiding his surprise. She had already given him her share of the cash she wanted him to hand over to Matt, as well as specific instructions: "Tell him it is for the car. That's all you have to say. Nothing more. Nothing less. I mean it, Damon. Nothing more!"
Damon opened the door wider. "4:45 looks good on you, Elena Gilbert."
"Go to hell and coffee," she mumbled.
"Counter."
She pushed him out of the way and shuffled to the kitchen, and Damon went back to packing. "What are you doing here?"
"Coffee."
He looked up at her. "You ran out of coffee?"
"Coffee first. Talk later."
"Right."
He finished packing and dropped his bag by the door.
4:53. He needed to get going, and she needed to tell him what was going on.
"Elena?" Damon slipped on his shoes by the door. "What are you doing here?" he asked again.
He should probably explain why nothing was making sense. Elena did not do well this early in the morning. That was an understatement. She didn't even know how to function. Last time he had a meet she had to get up this early for, he picked her up, and she had on two different pairs of shoes, her arm through the neck hole of her top and her jeans were inside out. After he helped her dress properly (the top half anyway—he left her to work out the whole jeans problem later) they got in the car, and she slept the entire drive, her head against the window and drool streaking down her chin. He found a parking spot, grabbed tissues from the glove box he kept. He cleaned her up, helped her walk to the stands and wrapped her up in a blanket he brought specifically for that purpose. It took forever for him to register for the event, and when he got back to her, she was asleep. It wasn't until the first starter pistol that she shot up and realized where she was. She sent him a text right away.
Omg!
Did I miss it?
I fell asleep!
Did you win?
He was sitting right next to her. She jumped when she realized. Then she looked down at her lap, at her inside-out jeans. She covered her face. He told her she could fix it under the blanket. She told him it wasn't just that—she had also forgotten to put on underwear. Then he really regretted not helping her with that earlier.
Now, she grabbed a thermos from the top cabinet. She poured her coffee, and then she walked past him, through the door, down the stairs and stood by his truck.
"You are coming with me?" he called out, still in his apartment.
She sipped the coffee. Shivered. "Hurry up! We are going to be late!"
Elena downed the entire thermos (the equivalent of four cups of coffee) in less than five minutes, so it was no real surprise that halfway through the drive, she was dancing in his truck with Justin Timberlake blasting. "I love Justin Timberlake!" she shouted, winding down her window, causing her cheeks to redden, her hair to whip around. She looked over at Damon, displayed her perfect teeth behind her perfect smile created by her perfect lips, and Damon wanted to punch Justin Timberlake in his perfect face.
He lowered the volume. "You want to hit up that craft store while we are there?"
She stopped dancing immediately, her eyes widened and on him. "Don't tease, Damon."
"I'm not," he said. "My heats and final should be done by midday so we will have time. Maybe grab food, too?"
She pouted. "I have to be at work by four, so we will see."
They got to the track, and Damon lined up to register while Elena sat in the stands, a blanket around her shoulders, yarn and knitting needles ready. Mason cut in line to get to Damon. "If you break your PB," he told Damon, following him around like a sick puppy, "party at my house. My parents are…I don't know where, but they are sure not home."
"Cool," Damon told him, but he was distracted by Elena, her hands frozen, her gaze locked on the familiar car pulling into the lot.
Matt Donovan's car.
"Is she here for you?" Mason asked.
Damon pointed to Matt's car. "Or him. I'm not sure."
"You can't worry about that shit today. You are here on a mission. Focus." And Mason was right, of course, and focusing on Matt was going to ruin that.
There were three heats in the Under 21s' hundred-meter sprint; each heat was an elimination round. Damon planned on flying through all of them, winning the final. He had done his research on the other competitors, and it was a given. But he was not here to win or to compete against them. He was here to compete against himself. Beating his PB would bring him one step closer to beating Matt Donovan's record. That was what he wanted. What he needed. And he only had three more official races until the season was over, which was why he was here. In a nonofficial school event that clocked official times.
He sat next to Elena and waited until it was time to start warming up. "You think you could ask Mason to sit with me when you can't?" she asked, looking towards the end of the registration line where Matt stood, watching her, him, them.
"Mason is running cross-country, so he will be on the track a while," Damon told her. "You want me to give him the money now, get it out of the way?"
"No," she said quickly. "He will want to talk, and I don't want to—not yet. Not until you are done. This is your day." She turned to him and smiled. "How are you feeling? Confident? Scared? You are going to kill it. I can feel it."
"Yeah?" he asked, looking over at Matt again. "You think he is going to give you a hard time?"
Elena cupped his face and forced him to get lost in those eyes. "I don't want you worrying about him, okay? I want you to worry about you and about that PB and about where you are going to take me in twenty days."
Damon smiled, he couldn't help it. He held her wrists and said, "I have it all planned out."
And it was true. He did.
"Can I do anything?"
He pushed his luck. "You could always give me an advance on that first-date kiss."
Elena rolled her eyes—instinct, but then bit down on her lip—contemplation. Then slowly, so slowly, she leaned forward, pressed her lips to his.
Two seconds.
Zero heartbeats.
"Did it help?" she asked.
"You have no idea."
Giuseppe showed up with Stefan and Sarah right before the first heat started. They sat with Elena, and Elena pointed Damon out, and Giuseppe smiled and waved. Sarah gave him a thumb up, and he returned it while Stefan checked out the program. He won the race. He won another short, light kiss from Elena.
Zach and Krystal arrived just before the second heat. Damon didn't know they were coming but he was happy they did, and he won that race, too. They cheered from the stands—his brother, his father, his relatives, his kind-of-now-but-definitely-soon-to-be girlfriend—all making him proud to be a Salvatore. He earned another kiss from Elena. When they actually did start dating, he was going to ask for backpay on all his previous winnings. One kiss for each win throughout his entire high school life.
He won the third heat, beat his PB. He didn't need to see the clock to know he had done it; his body had already told him. So instead of looking at the screen, he looked over at his family. Elena was the first to stand, her hand to her mouth. She said something to Giuseppe, and he hollered, jumped, scared everyone around him and swore, this feeling, this high, was greater than sex, pre-Elena, of course.
"Close, but not close enough," Matt smirked and Damon looked up at Elena, saw her hugging Sarah and pointing to the screen showing his times, and he looked at Matt and realization smacked him in the face. This was it for Matt. His life was defined by what he did on this track. And Damon? His life was sitting in the stands, watching him, cheering him on.
Damon faced Matt to return his smirk.
One second.
Two.
"It was never about you, dude. Not with me." Damon motioned to Elena sitting in the stands with his family. "And definitely not with her."
Matt shoved his chest, and he fell back a step, laughed at him. "That record is mine." It was a promise. A declaration. An oath.
He won the final, but he didn't break Matt's record. Not today. But he had three more races, and will, determination and anger were on his side. And like Stefan told him, emotion always would make someone win.
Damon collected the trophies and gave them to Stefan like he always did, and then spent the next hour in the craft store following Elena around like Mason did with him earlier—like a sick puppy.
When they were done, he and Elena met up with his family at the same diner they went to the first time they came here together. Elena ordered the same two desserts, and he ordered almost everything on the menu because he was starving and the hour walking around aimlessly at the store nearly killed him.
Halfway through the meal, Elena grabbed his arm, her eyes widened. "We forgot to give Matt the money!"
"What money?" Giuseppe asked.
Damon explained about the car situation but left out the part about lending her some cash.
"Just give me the cash and I will write a check," Giuseppe said. "I will send it to his mother and she can give it to him. Unless…" He looked at Elena. "Did you want to hand it to him in person?"
Elena shook her head. "Not at all."
Once again, I would like to thank all my readers for their support and kind reviews. I will try my best to write DE stories and knowing that my readers are there to support me, it makes me feel that I have to keep on pushing myself. You guys/gals are my motivation to improve:)
Thank you for everything!
