~7~

~Chapter Seven~

I spent a long time
Watering a plant made out of plastic
And I curse the ground for growing green

~Halsey, Forever… (is a long time)~

Sasha looks great.

More than great. She is radiating pure joy.

This isn't out of the ordinary for her, though. When she and Caroline get together, I know I'm in for an interesting day. They can talk for hours on end about fashion, makeup, and guys. They can also spend just as much time walking around the mall, usually leaving Elena and me in the dust.

Overall, I'd say she's the embodiment of the person I used to strive to be—the perfect daughter, a shining representative of the Bennett family.

Currently, my cousin is perched on the edge of the couch, regaling my parents with the tales of her tour of Berkley, how she's so excited to begin her classes, that she's finally decided what her major will be: business, with a minor in computer science.

"… I'm ready for it," she is saying, tone light and happy. "I can't wait to start this new chapter of my life."

I want to fade into the background, totally disappear, because I don't need to look in my dad's direction to know he's jealous. I can just feel it, the atmosphere tinged with a slight discomfort that Sasha ignores. She flips her dark, curly hair over her shoulder and smiles.

See, Sasha has this aggravating personality quirk: she's condescending, but she acts in such a way that you can't figure out if she's being like that deliberately or if it is innocent.

"Did you hear back from Yale? You applied for early acceptance, right?"

Well, that took all of five minutes. "I did… I got in."

"Congratulations!" Uncle Marshall exclaims and I know he means it.

"Thank you," I reply sheepishly, unsure of how to phrase the second part of my news.

"When do you move in?" Sasha asks in a clipped tone, clearly upset that my school update overshadowed hers.

She's in for a shock… "I'm not."

"Are you getting an off-campus apartment, then?" Aunt Bianca chimes in.

"Yes, but not in Connecticut."

I read the room before I continue speaking. Everyone looks puzzled, confused as to where I'll live in a different state, away from the home I've resided in since I was born. I can't stay here and attend school there—it just isn't realistic.

"You're not?" Sasha says, trying to sound confused. She doesn't pull it off, though. I can hear the underlying perkiness in her voice.

"No, I was awarded a full-ride scholarship—to Whitmore."

My mother and father appear crestfallen, both unable to look, Marshall, Bianca, and Sasha straight-on.

Sasha is loving this, she's sitting with her back straighter, chin tilted toward the ceiling. "That's good, too." But she can't hide how underwhelmed she is by my dull choice of college.

"Why?" Aunt Bianca says bluntly.

I unsuccessfully gulp, hoping to squash the lump forming in my throat. It feels like it gets bigger instead of smaller. "It just wasn't in the cards for me anymore."

In the space of the second between the end of my answer and the beginning of the next question, I send a quick text to Damon.

Please tell me you are on your way… and don't say you are if you aren't.

"Yeah, Bonnie, why?"

I'm beginning to get a headache—a throbbing one that runs from the top of my head to the base of my neck. "I didn't want to."

"I can understand that." Uncle Marshall says kindly—he may have his younger sister's tunnel vision, but he's a lot more open to other ways of thinking than Abby is. "I know I was back-and-forth about what I wanted when I was younger."

"No, you weren't," Mom says with a roll of her eyes. "As soon as you went to that information night at school, you knew what you were going to do—and you were in tenth grade, then."

My phone beeps.

As my mother and uncle bicker, I glance down at Damon's response.

You are so bossy.

Then:

I will be gracing you with my presence in three… two… one…

And then the doorbell interrupts whatever story Mom has started to tell to prove her version of events. You know, even though Marshall's thought process is the only one that matters in this instance.

"I'll get it," I announce, though I think only my dad listened to what I said.

He knows who it is, and it seems like he's trying to dredge up whatever patience he has left to deal with the bombshell that will be dropped on the rest of the Bennett family when Damon Salvatore is introduced.

When I answer the door, Damon smiles widely, and the way his eyes glint mischievously makes me suspicious. He, too, promised that he'd make his debut as drama-free as is possible—which, according to Damon-logic, could be a variety of different levels… until I threatened to help in the kitchen the next time he wants to make pancakes.

"Maybe we should just go now," I throw a glance over my shoulder. No one would even notice I slipped out.

He shakes his head. "They're running some tests on Amelia, so, we won't be able to see her right away."

I flinch. "New ones?"

"No, the same ones they always do. The ones we're always there for—they're just doing them earlier than normal today. I think Dr. Wilson took a personal day or something."

"Bonnie?" Mom calls out. "Bring Damon in before you go!"

I shoot him a nasty look. We were moments away from avoiding this situation, but, no, he couldn't wait to relay this information to me in the car.

"Everyone loves me, Bon Bon. It would be wrong to deny your family the chance to meet me."

"Not everybody loves you," I retort, narrowing my eyes even more.

But he only smirks at me, not at all bothered by my comment. "Says the person who loves me the most."

"Don't flatter yourself."

"I'm not… I'm just going by what you said last night."

I elbow him in the ribs. "Shut up! My dad can probably hear you!"

"Hey, I'm just talking about the PG version…" he holds up his hands. "You're the one who's mind is in the gutter."

"Damon… you're alluding to something else—anyone would be able to tell that from the way your voice sounds."

"You think anybody can hear me?"

"Yes."

"Over all that bragging?" he counters, referring to Sasha, who has shifted the conversation away from Mom and Marshall and back to all of her educational accomplishments.

Right now, she's discussing the fact that she was third in her class. I am smug when I hear Dad mention my academic standing. It's immature and petty, but the way he says it makes me think that perhaps I haven't lost all his pride… maybe he sees me as superior to Sasha in that respect, even after crushing his dreams.

I consider his point. "Maybe not."

And so, I let Damon lead me back into the family room to face the music I thought I already dealt with. As it turns out, the apprehension of telling my extended family about the newest addition to our family is very similar to the kind I felt before Dad got ahold of my old ultrasound scan.

"Damon, this is my family," I point out each person, give him their name, and relationship to me.

Sasha, ever the opportunist, gets up and crosses the room, eager to find out more about Damon. And probably, why he's in my house, having a hushed argument with me in the hall. Her mannerisms remind me of that girl who flirted with him at the movie theater and Rebekah. I don't like it, but I'm not at all surprised. She did the same thing when she met Matt back when we were thirteen.

"I'm Sasha," she says with a flutter of her eyelashes.

"I know, Bonnie just told me."

"Three seconds ago," I mutter under my breath.

"… But it's very nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you, too." she holds her hand out. Damon shakes it, though not for as long as my cousin would've liked.

"How do you know Bonnie?"

He wraps an arm around me and pulls me close. The only thing that stops him from being embarrassingly affectionate has nothing to do with the way I roll my eyes and suppress a smile—my father's agitated expression holds more weight right now. "She's my girlfriend."

"Oh," Sasha's face falls immediately.

"Bonnie!" My aunt chirps excitedly. "Why didn't you tell us you were dating someone?"

I shrug nonchalantly. "I figured I would wait until I could introduce you guys to him."

"Well it's nice to meet you, Damon," Uncle Marshall says from his place on the armchair adjacent to the sofa. "You better be treating my niece like a princess."

Dad's grimace doesn't fly under the radar.

"I know I don't deserve her, but I wouldn't ever do anything to hurt her." I don't know who he is addressing—my father or uncle.

"Well…" I start awkwardly, "we will see you guys later… we have somewhere to be."

"Where?" Sasha asks and I get the overwhelming sense that now is probably the best time to tell everyone about Amelia. Only, I feel strangely overprotective, almost like she's too precious to be spoken about when Sasha's around—I don't want her to be used as leverage for future bragging.

But, thankfully, Damon is the one that takes over the Q and A session. "We are going to the hospital. The one outside of town, actually, and I don't want to run into traffic. So, it was nice meeting you all… again, and I'm sure I'll see you again later on tonight."

"Bye Damon," Dad says more cheerfully than I expected. "Drive safe. And don't let Bonnie Bear drive… you'll never get there."

The way he uses my familial nickname so easily cuts into me, leaving me feeling both hopeful and worried. He's probably just trying to keep appearances up, I think, reminding myself not to get carried away.

"Is everything okay?" Sasha sounds concerned (for Damon, I'm guessing).

"Ac—" Damon begins.

"Not really," I interject, squeezing Damon's hand. "I've gone through a lot of changes lately—that's why I'm not going to Yale. I had to figure out what was best for me in the long run… and I can't go to school out-of-state," I take a deep breath. "I can't be that far away from Amelia."

"Amelia?" Sasha's eyebrows furrow. She's probably thinking about our great-grandmother, who died when we were babies.

"… not Gramma," I say. "My—our—" I hold Damon's arm up, "daughter. I had a baby. Right after Christmas. She was born early. Like three months early—that's why my parents went to Dahlgren without me for New Year's."

(I probably would've tried to get out of it regardless, but there's no need to be going into that line of reasoning).

Everyone in the room is shell shocked.

No one says a word. No one moves, so the room is filled with the sound of heavy breathing. I'm sure they're waiting for someone to yell gotchya and burst into a fit of laughter. Something that won't happen.

I pull up that one happy picture of us together to prove it.

My phone gets passed around until it ends up in Sasha's hands. Her hazel eyes flit between me and the screen as if she can't reconcile the fact that the girl standing next to her and the one in the photo is the same person.

"That's why Mom and Dad acted so weird, then. I'm sorry I didn't say anything earlier… it's been up and down lately."

"Damon's leaving for basic training soon," Mom says hastily. "It's been a rollercoaster kind of year."

Uncle Marshall's eyebrows quirk up. "What branch?"

"Army."

"Well, have to talk more when you get back."

If Damon's surprised by my uncle's statement, no one would be the wiser. "Sounds like a plan."

Once we are outside, Damon takes his sunglasses out and slides them over his eyes.

"Are you trying to act cool?" I tease, secretly hoping he doesn't want to talk about Sasha or anyone else lounging in the living room.

"I don't have to try to act cool; I just am. And no, I'm using these for their actual purpose, so there." He sticks his tongue out, ruffling my hair.

"Wow, I'm shocked."

"I'm ignoring that," Damon says, unlocking the car door manually, climbing inside. He acts as if I'm not outside, turning on the radio and looking everywhere but in my direction.

I pull on the door handle, thinking he would let me in if he thought I would end up doing damage to it. "Open the door, Damon!"

He smirks and reaches over to roll the window down. "Can I help you?"

"You can unlock my door."

"But… you were questioning my level of coolness."

"I don't see how that has to do with this." I squint, leaning forward so I could look him straight in the eyes without the sun's interference. "But since you're so butthurt over it, I'll bite—you're cool. So cool that I can hardly stand to be around you."

"That sounds pretty backhanded," he remarks, feigning offense.

"I meant it when I said I loved you," I offer, smiling and batting my eyelashes the same way he always does.

"Which time?"

I roll my eyes. "All of them."

He glances at the clock on the dash. "Okay, I'll accept your apology. It was very big of you to admit you were wrong."

"Didn't say that…" I say as I sit down, pulling my seatbelt over my chest.

"Doesn't matter," Damon says. "It's what I heard."

"You have issues," I mutter, rubbing my temples in a futile attempt to get rid of the tension headache that crept up on me while I listened to another episode of the Bennett family's catch-up session.

"Yeah, but you like them…" he peeks at me out of the corner of his eye. "I didn't piss you off that much, did I?"

"Of course not; I'm immune to your nonsense by now. It's… my family. Not all of them—just my parents and Sasha. I don't know what to think about them."

"Sasha reminds me of you a little," he comments nonchalantly.

"Thanks."

He sighs. "Not in a bad way. I don't know her all that well. Don't worry, you're still the queen of being anal-retentive and judgmental. But she seems very… driven, I guess."

"She is," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper.

"And… I thought you said your mom's brother is just as into competition as she is."

"I guess I overstated it—Uncle Marshall just goes along with it… he doesn't add to it, but he doesn't stop it either. Sasha didn't use to be like Mom either—we used to get along well—but I think my parent's constant bragging about what a good kid I was got under her skin. Uncle Marshall was away a lot… and they moved a bunch… I don't know, so, I guess I was her only constant companion…"

"She's your Stefan," he summarizes.

When my only response is to stare at him blankly, he elaborates:

"Stefan took my mother away from me… when we were younger, that's how it felt. So, everything I did started to be about one-upping him. Which, I couldn't—still can't."

I want to tell him it's a little different than that, but I can't—he makes a point. "You and Stefan seem to be doing better now."

"Yeah, but my dad is always reminding me which of his sons is less of a fuck-up. Hint: it's not me."

"You're not a fuck-up."

"And neither are you."

"… Has your dad talked about seeing Amelia again?" I'm almost afraid I shouldn't have asked. I observe the way Damon's posture tenses up, the way he grimaces before speaking, in a low, frustrated tone.

"Yes, but it's not a good idea, Bennett. He's a lot meaner than your mom—you can tell Abby cares. Giuseppe has an agenda."

"… are you sure he has an ulterior motive?"

He chuckles darkly. "He's never not had one."

"Well, if you're not comfortable with it, I'm not either."

"Thanks, Bennett."

"You're welcome, Salvatore."

When we get back home, I head straight for my bedroom.

Damon went back to his place to gather what he needs to have to spend the night at the hospital. One of the first things Lucille told us when we came in was that we were on the schedule (after she informed us that Amelia was done with having her blood drawn).

I was prepared for it—I've gotten into the habit of always having an overnight bag packed, but Damon never seems to do the same.

Smiling to myself, I push my bedroom door open, only for it to fall away when I see Sasha sitting on my bed.

Her legs are crossed, a magazine opened in her lap. She turns the page before glancing up at me. "Oh, hi Bon."

"Hi…" my eyebrows knit together in confusion. "Why are you in my room?"

Sasha stretches out, tucking her hands behind her head, leaning against the headboard. "I'm not sure."

"Well, you can have it for the night." I'm not too keen on it, but I am less keen on arguing about where she will be staying. I'm not up for the fight. "I won't be here."

"Where will you be?"

"Doesn't it go without saying?" I take my bag out of the closet, checking its contents to make sure I hadn't forgotten anything.

She doesn't say anything for what feels like a very long time. And then, in a small voice, "with Damon?"

"Yeah."

"How'd you two get together?"

"It's not like you care," I remark, refusing to look her way. "Why bother trying to keep up the pretense?"

"I do care," she insists.

"Why?" I zip my bag closed and hike it over my shoulder.

"You're my cousin," she says this the same way Care does whenever she thinks I should know something already—usually fashion-related.

"And we've been trying to outdo one another since middle school."

"I know."

The room falls silent again. I throw a glance in her direction. Sasha's staring at her feet pensively. I can't quite read her facial expression—it's almost blank. That's another Bennett quality—aloofness in the face of discomfort.

"… I don't even remember when it became a serious competition—between us, I mean."

At the sound of my voice, she startled out of her daze. "Me either. You were just so perfect… I felt like we never stayed in one place long enough to…" she trails off with a shrug. "…I'm sorry… about the baby."

"Thanks." The strap of my duffle bag slides down my arm.

"How'd you deal with it?"

"What's 'it'?"

"The patented Bennett look of disappointment."

I snort and choke back a rueful laugh. Now that's a loaded question. "I haven't."

"But… you didn't seem like you cared earlier."

"I do."

"Well, you fooled me…"

"That makes one person then," I say, voice barely above a whisper.

"So, seriously—tell me how you ended up dating one of the hottest guys in the state?"

Well, might as well be honest about that, too. "He knocked me up."

Sasha startles, shaking her head. "I mean, how did you find the time to date with all the schoolwork and extra-curricular?"

I narrow my eyes. My cousin sounds serious, her tone pleading. I have no idea why she would suddenly start caring about my personal life, but there has to be a logical explanation.

"Why do you want to know?"

Her earnest expression falters, sighing as her gaze wanders around the room before landing on me. I drop into my swivel chair—a nonverbal cue that I won't answer her without a good reason.

"I missed out on that part of high school," she says. "I was so busy trying to keep my grades up… and, well, I was just getting used to being in the same school for three years straight that I guess I never realized I could do that."

I'm definitely at a loss for words. I guess that talk I had with Damon in the car was one of merit. "We weren't dating… we were more like… temporary friends."

She raises an eyebrow, motioning for me to go on.

I cross and then uncross my legs nervously. "We didn't get along at first. But we spent some time together and well… uh… that was supposed to be the extent of it. And then I found out that I was pregnant."

"So that's why you got together?"

"Um no," I try to figure out why I'm being so honest with Sasha right now. All I know is that it feels good to get this story off my chest, that this is the first time I've been so candid about Amelia and Damon to anyone other than my friends, which… wasn't all that candid, to be honest. "He started dating this girl—Rebekah—when school started. I didn't know about the baby then…"

"Oh!" she leans forward, regarding me like I'm an actress in some cheesy soap opera.

I pause, glaring at her. "If any of this information leaves my room…"

"It won't," Sasha says solemnly.

"… I dated someone else for a month or so. His name was Enzo…"

"You have a fanbase?"

I snort. "Hardly—Caroline and Elena have fanbases. Enzo, I thought we were a good couple, but he's actually a bigger jerk than Damon. But… I never truly felt like myself around him. I thought I did, but I was wrong. Anyway… long story short, we started a romantic relationship, shit hit the fan, and here we are." I throw my hands up.

That's it. The end. The girl got the guy, but they didn't exactly the happily ever after they signed up for.

"Uncle Rudy told us you had the flu when they visited over the New Year."

"Nope—the exact opposite."

She looks me over. "You don't look like you had a baby five months ago."

"Thank you—I think."

"I just never would've thought that you would be the one to…"

"Mess up so badly? Me either. And I'm still paying for it."

And then comes the biggest question Sasha has asked thus far. "… Do you regret it?"

"Not for a second," I respond automatically.

"But if you're still in hot water, why wouldn't you?"

"Because…" I seriously think about the best way to explain myself. "Mom and Dad… they weren't there for me. They've never really been there. Grams was. I've done my own thing since she died. Except, it wasn't my thing—It was Abby and Rudy's plan. And… when it came down to it, I couldn't bring myself to let her go… I mean, I knew they'd never feel any differently about her and I'd be incredibly idiotic if I based the biggest decision of my life on what everyone else wanted. It's the hardest thing I've ever had to deal with… but I wouldn't change a thing."