Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who takes the time to write a review and thank you for reading. This chapter is probably my favorite one to date, so I hope that you enjoy it as much as I do.

Chapter 21

Damon

She has nightmares. At first, I thought that they were a result of what she went through at the cabin, but then I started piecing together parts of our childhood. It was just before third grade when I first met Elena. Over that summer, her little brother had been hanging out at our house- Jer met Stefan at tee-ball and they'd been inseparable since. As a result, Elena and I were forced to interact.

She was a competitive little shit and loved any challenge. When her Uncle John would come around, he'd play Elena and me against each other. He got a kick out of timing who was the fastest. Who was faster at starting the campfire; who was faster at running to the tree and back; who was the fastest at picking a lock.

I thought he had made up all his stories, but there were details that made me doubt this assumption. He told one of how he got the vintage Rolex around his wrist- lifted it from a casino owner who cheated at a game of poker. Elena even told me of a time her uncle made her pretend to be his daughter- all she had to do was hang out in the lobby of a hotel, walk into a man wearing a red silk tie, fall, and start crying. Her uncle swooped in with many apologies for his daughter's clumsiness and helped Elena up. Then he took her to get ice cream.

Her uncle started coming into town more and more to spend long periods of time with Jeremy and Elena. It was during that time she'd fall asleep in class. That marked the first time I'd been suspended. We were in the fourth grade and Elena dozed off in the middle of morning lessons. The teacher was droning on and on when the Teddy Fell started laughing and pointing his finger at her. Other kids started joining in.

I tried my best to get them to stop without waking her up by non verbally showing everyone what would happen if they didn't stop when Teddy poked her in the side. Elena woke up with a start and fell out of her chair. Everyone started laughing- until I clocked Teddy across the face. Dad put me in boxing after that incident.

When her uncle had to leave the country, she started occasionally staying at the mansion. Sometimes she'd bring Jeremy and we'd camp out in the backyard. Other times, she'd climb the tree next to my bedroom window and climb in in the middle of the night and climb into my bed wearing overalls and sneakers. I'd wake to her thrashing or worse, from her crying. I'd wrap my arms around her just so, and she'd stop and fall back to sleep.

The night before the party, I lay awake watching her even breaths, waiting for it to start. I wondered what she did all those years she was alone in that awful house. Maybe that's why she's at the top of the class and a fucking awesome runner- she's literally running herself ragged so she'll fall asleep. I've seen her while driving home from a party, on the side of the road running in the early hours of the morning.

My cell rings and when I see the name, I move to the living room of the suite to take the call. "Tell me," I say into the phone.

"Worthington and Scott are still locked up but Brown posted bail," my lawyer, Cameron Lockwood says.

"How?"

"Kid is sixteen and his parents have connections," he replies. I hear a heavy sigh. "I'm going, to be honest with you Damon, none of these guys have prior convictions. Local government is corrupt, we both know that. Depending on the judge and prosecutor assigned to the case, Noah Scott has the greatest chance of being put away, but that's only because of the highly publicized trial he lost. Even though the trial was held by high school students, universities have dropped him and the school suspended him. The court is going to see that, plus what happened last night as evidence that he was responsible for the party and he intended to sell the drugs in his car."

"What about Worthington?"

"Depends on if the Brown family decides to drop charges. In order to collect insurance, they can't drop the charges, but this is his first offense. If he's found guilty, he's an adult and could face time. He'll make bail, though. His family is influential enough that this whole case could get tossed out and they'll settle privately with the Brown family," he explains.

I check the bedroom door to make sure I didn't wake Elena. "Are representatives from Stanford, Columbia, and the University of Oregon going to be there tomorrow?"

"Leslie Pace is pissed Elena didn't show last week, but she's still in town so she said she'd go tomorrow morning."

"Probably a good thing. I don't think I want Elena going to Stanford," I reply.

Rafe Powell is going to Stanford and even though I'll support whatever Elena decides, I'd rather not have to be within a twenty-mile radius of that dick.

"Do you want me to contact her?"

I rub my head. Fuck, I'm tired. "No."

There's a pause and then. "There's someone else that's interested in seeing her run. My best friend is the conditioning coach for Manchester United and his friend heard about Elena."

"The soccer team?"

"Football, but yes."

"Why would he want to see Elena?"

"He's a private coach," he explains.

"No."

"Why?"

"I don't want some weirdo privately doing anything with Elena."

Another heavy sigh- Cameron is an expert on the heavy sigh but he knows when not to push.

"Am I in the clear?" I ask, changing the subject.

"You have absolutely no ties to the party tonight or the fire at the Brown estate."

"And everything else?"

"All the contingencies are in place. I'll contact you when the paperwork you requested is ready."

My dad always taught me to have a back-up plan to the back-up plan to the back-up plan. He might be an absentee father who prefers to send me to rehab than deal with me but he's taught me some pretty valuable lessons and if I call, he picks up- he might be in South Korea, but he'll pick up.

"Thanks, Cameron. Keep me updated on the cases."

"I'm billing you for every second, you do realize that right?"

"Yeah, Cam," I reply, shortly. "Just put it on dad's tab."

Cameron chuckles before hanging up. I pay for my own lawyer, but I know Cameron because of my dad. Cameron was the protégée of my dad's personal lawyer until he started his own practice and I became his best client. I like Cameron because he excels at skirting the law- which is why he's still on dear old dad's payroll.

I make my way back to the bedroom. When we got home last night, Elena took a shower and then crashed. I'm glad because she needs her rest before tomorrow's meet. I silently turn the knob and pad back into the room. As always, she's sprawled across the bed like a starfish, almost like she was trying to find me in her sleep. She stirs from her spot, a sad whimper falls from her lips. "Mommy, no!" She whimpers.

I pause at the threshold of the door, cruelly waiting to see what else she mutters in her sleep.

"I don't want to go!" She sobs. The sheets are pushed off of most of her body, but her legs are so tangled up in them, I'm surprised she hasn't fallen off the bed.

It's the same every time but I have a hard time believing she's crying for Miranda. Miranda was nothing but a bitch to her- she's the reason my dad let Elena stay at our place so often. He even had a room made up for her, which I refused to tell her about. I liked it when Elena would climb up to my room in the middle of the night. Even when I was too young to define what we had, I always knew I needed her. Pieces of my heart that died after my mother passed away, she was somehow able to fill.

We are as connected as if we exchanged blood. It's one of the reasons I hated her so much because I couldn't get rid of the parts of her that lingered in my veins.

Guilt will never dissipate over the fact that I left her alone after her brother died. I was angry and sent off to rehab but if I'd just gotten over myself, maybe I would've seen the truth of what happened. It was just so much easier to hate her than deal with everything else that was going on. Losing a brother, losing my brother's best friend, losing my dad's trust…the list goes on. Hating her gave me a purpose.

If I'd just seen beyond my own anger, maybe I wouldn't have done what I did, a decision that I feel like I'll be making up for for the rest of my life. Something so unforgivable, I pray Elena never finds out about.

She won't- I made sure of it.

Her tank rides up her stomach as she turns, moaning words of protest. Where did her dream take her now? I place my phone on the nightstand, sit on the bed, and wrap my arms around her. She does this thing where she leans into my chest, closer to my heart. I feel her soft, relived sigh against my skin. Her breath tickles the bare skin on my chest. She curls up in me as I wrap myself around her and slowly drift off to sleep.

XXX

I wake up in ecstasy, to moans and warm, soft lips wrapped around my cock.

A head lifts up from the sheets. "It was poking me."

I groan, raising my eyebrows. "It does that."

"Thought the polite thing would be to take care of it," she mutters, promptly getting back to work. Her tongue slides underneath my cock and then licks the pre-cum from the tip before sealing her lips around my shaft. I don't want to think about where she learned this from, because it feels fucking amazing.

My hands run through her silky locks, holding her in place as she starts sucking me like a popsicle. "Fuck!" I groan when she licks my balls before dragging her tongue up the underside of my cock.

Most girls act like sucking me off is an automatic precursor to sex but based on Elena's moans and the fact that her own hand is in her panties, she's enjoying this as much as I am. I wrap my hand in her hair and hold her right where she's at, my hips thrust into her welcoming mouth.

"I'm coming," I groan, releasing my hold.

I give her the opportunity to move, but she doesn't take it, instead, her fingers dig into my thighs, taking as much of my length as her mouth will allow as I come. Elena lifts her mouth from my member, gives me a shy, yet evil grin and swallows. I feel myself hardening again when I see that pink tongue seductively lick her lips, making sure she got every last drop.

It takes one fucking smirk for me to lose it. I wrap my hands around her tiny waist and flip her onto her back. She lets out a squeal as she falls on the mattress. "How much time do we have?" She gasps as I lift up her tank and start kissing her stomach.

"Enough," I grunt.

I don't really know but I hope I have enough time.

She moans sweetly as I work my way closer and closer to her pussy. "Damon!" She gasps, the sound is so needy and breathless.

Fuck me. How important is it for her to get to her meet on time?

Oh, yeah- incredibly important.

My fingers reach into her pale pink lace panties, but I pause. She lets out a cute frustrated groan. "What time is it?"

"Who cares?" She cries in frustration, lifting her tank over her head and tossing it to the ground. Well, that answers that. It doesn't prevent me from looking at the clock.

It's six o'clock. I brought the uniform and shoes from her gym locker so she can dress here. It'll take five minutes for us to get there, but she needs to be there early to warm up.

We have time.

"Maybe I won't go," she adds. I mean to tell her she better fucking go, but I lose my train of thought when I see her pale pink nipples pebble, ready for me to suck. I do just that and run my tongue around her areola before sucking on her tit.

"Oh, fuck," she moans. "I am so not going."

Oh yeah, I forgot. I lift my head up. "You're going because you're going to win and then we're going to have fun celebrating."

She bites her lower lip in the cutest way and shakes her head. Her hair falls into her face- my girl has major bedhead and she's being stubborn- well okay then.

My hand lazily drags across her stomach and tugs her panties down. "Yes, yes, yes," she praises, lifting her hips up to help me. And here she is, laid out before me completely bare and fuck do I want to take my time with her.

But I can't. I have to be an ass. An ass she'll thank later.

Hopefully.

I raise myself above her and capture her lips with mine. She opens her mouth to me, allowing me to feed her my tongue. With my right hand propped next to her head on the mattress, my left grazes her side so lightly, she squirms beneath me. I rest my palm right on her pelvis and rub slow circles. "Oh," she sighs, her head tilted back on the pillow as she moans in response to my slow massage.

I press my lips on a pulse point on her neck, sucking in tune with my palm. When a light sheen of sweat coats her skin and pebbles around her breasts, my index finger presses her clit. "Christ," she gasps, her hand starts playing with her breast, pinching her nipples, giving herself pleasure.

I circle my index finger around her clit, just once, before pressing it into her and pumping languidly. "Damon….I can't…Damon…God," she sighs. "That feels…" she trails off.

I find another spot on her neck and suck, lick, and bite. Two fingers pump into her, once, twice, and then I take her juices and use it as lubricant to swirl around her bud.

The moment I feel her on the edge, with her little sighs and the way her muscles flex- I withdraw my hand.

"What? No, no, no," she cries. "Finish!"

I slowly lick the fingers that were in her and then hover above her, with both palms on either side of her, my legs straddling her little body- trapping her and forcing all her attention on me. "Are you going to go to the meet?"

"What? No!" She spits out. "Now finish, or I'll do it myself."

Her hands move toward her but I snatch her wrists and hold them above her. "Are you going to go to your meet?"

Her brows furrow like she's figuring out a way to not do what I say and get what she wants.

"Fuck me."

Well, fuck me, I didn't expect this.

"Fuck me and I'll go to the meet," she offers.

"You can't blackmail me into having sex with you," I argue.

I can't believe I'm arguing this. If it were anyone else, I wouldn't care- I've never cared when it came to sex. I've also never had this much fun in the bed. Elena has zero inhibitions, something I should've realized every time she walked into school wore a look that told everyone, under no certain terms, they could go to hell after what they did to her. She's fearless, but also genuine. If you earn her trust, you have that for life. When she lets you in, you can't help but fall in love. She doesn't know this, but she walks around with her heart on her sleeve. There isn't a fake bone in my girl's body. Which is why it pains me to tell her no.

"Come on, Damon," she pleads, moving her hips so she's rubbing against my dick. The only thing between me and her is the very thin fabric of my pajama pants. Thank God I had the foresight to not take them off after she took me in her mouth. "Put your dick in my tight, wet pussy. Do it."

She plays dirty.

I shake my head- it's honest to God the hardest thing I've ever done. "No, baby."

I catch the look of doubt on her face. My rejection stings and I didn't intend for it to. I kiss her sweetly on the lips and move my hand back to her bundle of nerves, but my fingers linger just above. "When we make…" I pause, something else almost escaping my lips. "When we have sex," I correct, kissing her lips once more. "I don't want it to be quick." I press two fingers in her, the sudden movement causes her to cry out in desperation. "I want to take my time."

I continue my ministrations while sucking on her lips. "Are you going to go to your meet?"

She nods.

"Words, baby."

Taking the juices from her I circle her clit in lazy motions, taking my time and drawing it out.

"Yes," she gasps. "I'll go."

"That's good," I say, pressing my lips to hers.

She devours me, moving her hips to increase the pressure, but my thigh's pinned her to the bed- keeping her right where I want her.

"You look so good beneath me," I mutter into her ear, before pressing my lips to hers and swallowing her moan.

She moves her head to the side, trying to get air, convulsing beneath me. "Christ!" She screams as she comes undone. I keep my fingers in her, continuing my ministrations, letting her ride her orgasm. When her heart rate slows, I kiss her on the lips.

"I guess the rumors were true," she says, running her hands through my hair before kissing me sweetly on the lips.

"What rumors?"

She rolls her eyes, but there's a smile there. "I'm not going to tell you."

"Would you like me to repeat the rumors I heard about you?"

She scoffs and punches me lightly on the shoulder. "The rumors about me and the rumors about you were very different."

I move from her body and lean on my side with my elbow propping me up for support. She turns so she's leaning and facing me but shyly pulls the sheet back over her body. I pull it back down- just slightly. "People said that I sold drugs."

"That's true," I point out.

Her lips thin, she hadn't thought of that. I don't think what she did last night ever registered.

"People called me Easy Elena," she adds.

"Definitely not easy," I mutter. "And we don't even know if your real name is Elena. It could be Gertrude or Edna."

She giggles sweetly. "I guess that is true."

"What did people say about me?" I know what people say about me, but I want to hear it from her.

She touches her lip with her index finger. "You're good in the sack."

"Well, that's definitely true."

"And that you have a huge…" she widens her hands just so.

I grab her hands and roll her back underneath me. She's laughing so hard her eyes water. It is the best sound. "Well, we both know that's true."

She casts her eyes downward, presses her lips together, and hums. "Ummm hmmm."

Her deep brown eyes sparkle. I don't think I've ever seen them sparkle so brightly. I immediately want more. I selfishly want all those moments to myself. My hands move to the spot just above her hip bone and I squeeze. She giggles, and then starts laughing so hard she's crying. "Damon! Oh, my God!"

I can't help myself, I lean down and capture her pretty pink nipple between my lips and suck and do the same with the other before grabbing her by the hips and flipping he on her stomach. I smack her ass. "Now get ready for the meet."

She's still laughing when she sits up. "You are an ass."

"And you have a great one."

Her fingers run through her hair as she looks at me lazily through her long eyelashes. Her long brown hair falls down her bare back, locks fall over her chest, barely covering a few purple marks I left as a reminder. Her cheeks are flushed and her lips are plump and cherry red. She's gorgeous and I don't fucking deserve her.

She leans back over and places one last kiss on my lips. "I'd better get ready."

I want to say something profound. Something more, but I can't find the right words, so I nod lamely.

Elena

Coach Dean seems especially nervous today. He's pacing back and forth and hasn't even yelled at me for missing the meet last week. Because of my time a couple of weeks ago, I automatically made it to state and I was the only one that qualified from MFHS. Cross country doesn't exactly pull the same popularity as other sports, so no one else from school is here.

He stops his pacing. "Did you drink enough water?"

I nod.

"Take a walk and stretch?"

"Did a couple sprints."

"If I tell you not to try to run at the front of the pack?"

"I'll tell you okay but won't do it," I reply, honestly.

Another nod.

"The kids from Richmond High are a bunch of cheats. Stay away from them."

I scan the crowd of other students and find the maroon uniforms. "Good thing I plan on front running."

He gives an exasperated laugh, then places one hand on each shoulder and looks me in the eyes. "I'm not going to say anything sappy like you're the best runner I've had the pleasure of coaching or comment on how much I admire your attitude in the face of everything you've been through. I'm not going to say any of that. Just kick-ass," he smiles. "I really want to beat Richmond High."

"Coach…"

"Now get to the starting line."

"Okay."

I walk to the starting line and take a few deep breaths. I look at the stretch of grass and hills before me while doing a couple of final stretches. "You're Elena Gilbert."

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore. Nothing exists except me and the finish line.

"My coach tried to get you kicked off this race because you weren't at the meet last week."

I don't look in her direction, I keep my eyes forward.

"I guess your coach put up a fight."

What? I turn to the girl standing next to me. Richmond High jersey- I shouldn't have taken the bait.

She has a runner's body, a real runner's body. Powerful long legs and no boobs she has to restrain with a suffocating sports bra that was designed to prevent bounce- exactly what runners have to do. The girl could probably run this race in a lace bralette and wouldn't know the difference. The thought makes me laugh out loud.

"What are you laughing at?"

"You."

She looks scandalized like she didn't expect me to be honest. "I wouldn't be laughing if I were you. After the number of phone calls your coach had to make to get you on this race, you're going to humiliate him when you lose."

I just continue to laugh and move to my position on the starting line. She may have the typical runner's body, but I have something else. Something that doesn't come from running miles every day or lifting weights. Something that can only come from going through hell and seeing the other side.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Damon. He's leaning against a tree, drinking coffee, his eyes on me.

He nods.

I nod back.

And the race starts.

I start out at a sprint, something my coach warns me about time and time again. Usually, I'll run and speed up as I go, but I want to put as much distance as I can between me and the crowd of runners surrounding me. The girl from Richmond is right next to me for the first mile, pacing me. Her breathing is all over the place and though her stride is perfect, she falls behind and then catches up. We both turn a corner, side by side, and that's when I see the hill. I love hills because I love to get them over with and run down the other side at top speed. The moment I see the hill, I know this is the moment. I lengthen my stride and go full out- my mind only on getting to the top as fast as I can. Once I reach the top, I continue to run as fast as my body will carry. I want it to hurt. I want to give it everything I have.

It isn't anger that drives me, it's hope. Hope that things can be better. Hope that I'll have a good life. Hope that I'll be free of this town one day. Miranda once said that hope can be a dangerous thing. She's right, I am dangerously hopeful—driven by the hope that my life won't always be a tragedy.

I raise my knees and continue to lengthen my stride until my muscles burn. Seeing the finish line in the distance, I keep my breathing even and go as hard as my heart will let me. The moment I cross the finish line it's like the volume was turned up. People from neighboring schools in the crowd cheer. It takes me several strides to come to a stop and even then, I have to walk sixty yards and circle back. My coach walks over to me, wearing a smile so wide I almost don't recognize him. "State champion and you broke the state record for this race."

Really? My happiness must be evident on my face because he laughs. Coach Dean never laughs, and I mean never.
"Plus I beat Richmond," I add.

"The only thing I cared about," he smirks. "I want to introduce you to some people."

"I need water first."

"Quickly," he says.

I find Damon not far from where Coach was standing. I squeal like an absolute idiot and jump him, wrapping my legs around his waist. "I did it!"

He holds me firmly, not caring that I'm a sweaty mess. "You did good, Gilbert."

"Fuck good, I was awesome."

I press my lips to his, he opens his mouth to me and I slide my tongue against his. I can still taste coffee and this morning it's just coffee and not a hint of anything else. I kiss his bottom lip, before dropping my legs. "I need water," I gasp.

He leans over and hands me a water bottle from my bag. I down it quickly before giving him a peck on the lips. "Coach needs me to meet people. Probably the coach from Richmond— he doesn't like the guy."

"Be nice!" Damon jokes as I start to walk away.

I spin around, walking backward. "I'm always nice!" I say with a wink.

I find coach standing next to a few people and within minutes I find out that they are not coaches from other high schools, they are coaches from the cross country teams of Stanford, Columbia, the University of Oregon, and someone else. A man in his late thirties or early forties, wearing a Manchester United shirt and jeans. He has a slight beard and long hair tied back in a bun. I wouldn't be surprised if he was a former soccer player. He stands off to the side while the coaches from other schools make their introductions.

"That was quite a race," Janice Smith, the coach from the University of Oregon says.

"Thanks," I reply brightly.

"Your coach says that you run longer distances to train."

I glance at my coach who gives me an encouraging nod. "Yes and I run wind sprints and fartleks, but running isn't just a competitive sport for me. Running is a form of therapy for me. I can work through issues while going on a long run, which is probably why I like long runs- lots of free therapy."

All the coaches chuckle, but the man who hasn't introduced himself looks more plaintive like he's studying me. "Well, I'd love to talk to you about what Stanford can do for you."

Columbia chimes in. "Ever run in Central Park- I think you'd love it."

My eyes light up. "Or you can train where the weather is moderate year-round," Leslie Pace, from Stanford argues genially.

Coach Dean chimes in and talks about me while I awkwardly stand by. After ten minutes, I shake everyone's hand and Coach Dean walks them off the field. "Seems like you're going to have plenty of options for university next year," the guy with the Manchester United shirt says. He has a thick Irish accent that gets my attention. Who is this guy?

"Hopefully."

"Or you could do something different. You don't seem like the type of girl that likes to take the normal route. Compete in cross country in college while attending college, graduate, get a job, and give up running to focus on your career," he says.

"Doesn't seem so bad," I reply honestly.

"Or you could do something else, something not many have the opportunity to do."

I fold my arms, starting to get the chills I usually get after a run. "Who are you?"

He holds out his hand. "Seamus Kelly, I'm a personal running coach."

I shake his hand. "Why would I want a personal running coach?"

"If you compete on the college level, you'll be held back. You're a distance runner, Ms. Gilbert, and not many colleges will help you train for the miles you'll need to run as a distance runner. They'll want you to compete in events they need you to compete in," he explains.

"How do you know I'm a distance runner?"

"I see it in your eyes," he states. His your sounds like yer and I think I could listen to him read the Bible his accent is so lovely.

"My eyes?"

"Determination. I heard it in your voice when you talked about running."

"You make a convincing argument, but I want to go to college and run for the college I go to," I reply.

He nods. "You may still be able to do both."

His offer sounds nice but I just want something normal for once in my life. College is normal. Frat parties and studying late in the library- all normal experiences. "As you said, I have a lot of choices."

He hands me a card. "Contact me when you decide to go to the Olympics."

Olympics?

Seamus walks away and I know he knows he got me.

No, I can't go to the Olympics. I don't have time for pipe dreams.

College.

Drunken parties.

No mafia bosses after me.

These are things I want.

Damon comes up behind me with my bag in his hand, I take it and pull out a sweatshirt. "Who was that?"

I hear the edge in his voice. "No one," I reply, putting Seamus's card in my bag after pulling on the Timberwolves sweatshirt. "Let's go get something to eat, I'm starving."

Damon looks ready to argue but thinks better of it. He wraps his arm around me while we walk together to his car.

Miranda was definitely right, hope is dangerous because as Damon drives me to the nearest diner for pancakes, I can't help but imagine standing on the podium and getting the gold medal wrapped around my neck.