A/N: I am so thankful for all the reviews and encouraging comments you all have left for me. I think it's important for me to know if people are reading, because I do put a lot of time in my busy life to write, and if it's worth it I will absolutely continue. So after last week's feedback I decided to keep going. I made this chapter nice and long! I hope you like it!

There was a knocking at my door the following morning and my head was pounding as I dragged myself out of bed. I clasped my hand to my forehead trying to sooth the ache that throbbed within my skull. I shuffled to the front door before opening it.

"You look like hell," Bonnie looked me up and down before stepping inside.

I shut the door as she charged into my kitchen tossing a stack of paper on my counter. "Your book is incredible," she breathed.

"You finished it?" I looked at her in shock. I only gave it to her three days ago.

"I've read it three times," she nodded. "It's been driving me crazy," she sat down at my little round kitchen table. "I couldn't figure out why they couldn't be together. Why did he have to leave? They were so perfect together, why couldn't they make it work?"

I searched my cupboard for some pain relievers for my massive hang over. "Because… life isn't always so simple. I wanted to write something more realistic for my audience. Not every love story has a happy ending. But that doesn't mean they loved each other any less than a couple who makes it to the very end."

"I mean I understand that he had his family and career in England. And she couldn't leave the states because she shared a child with someone else. I mean… she couldn't take the kid with her away from his father. And she would never leave her son, but… Why couldn't they figure out something to be with each other," she slumped in her chair looking so defeated.

I popped two Advil in my mouth before washing it down with water. "I think they ultimately chose the greatest way to show how much they loved each other. Sacrifice," I shrugged a shoulder. "Sometimes giving up the one you love so they can be happy, is the greatest testament of love."

She looked at me like she was still lost.

"It's better to be selfless in love than selfish," I said simply.

She seemed to think on that, so I started brewing some coffee.

"So, what did you do last night?" Bonnie changed subjects. "You look like you might have had a few too many beverages last night."

I pouted as I stared at the brewing coffee pot. "I did, and I regret it immensely."

"Who did you go out with?" She seemed uninterested.

"No one," I tried sounding nonchalant, but I was never a good actress.

"What are you hiding?" She squinted suspiciously.

"It's nothing worth repeating," I shook my head.

"What happened?" She sat up a little straighter, suddenly intrigued.

"I can't," I shook my head thinking about last night. I felt so much guilt. And it also made my heart flutter, and my skin heat up, which then lead to more guilt.

"Elena," she threw her arms out. "You can't just leave me hanging."

"I just went out to have a drink because I was all nervous about my book. I had emailed a copy to my old college professor, and I couldn't stop thinking about the possible failure of becoming a writer, so I went to the bar for a drink."

"And?" She prompted, sensing more.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and I went to go sit by her at the table.

"I ran into someone," I gnawed on my bottom lip. "And we got all flirty and drunk… and we kissed."

"That's not that bad," she rolled her eyes unexcited. "Who cares that you kissed a stranger while you were drunk?"

I could feel my face flush so I took a sip of my coffee, hoping she wouldn't notice.

"Unless…" She studied my face. "Something more happened. Did you sleep with him?!"

"No!" My eyes widened in horror. "I swear it was just a kiss."

"Then what aren't you telling me?" She pried.

"So, I was thinking about making a second book," I changed the subject.

"What happened Elena?" She ignored my comment.

"A sequel," I continued.

She got quiet for a minute before her interest started peaking. "Will it have a happily ever after?"

"That's highly probable," I nodded.

"Yes!" She shot her arms up.

"Don't get excited," I warned her. "It's not what you're thinking."

"What's that supposed to mean?" She huffed.

I sipped my cup being coy, "You'll just have to wait and see."

"That's so not fair!" She scoffed.

"Hey! I let you be the first to read my first book. I promise you will get the first copy of the second. I just… I have an idea for a second, but I have no idea if it'll be… taken well."

"Why do you say that?" She was so lost.

"Just wait, ok?" I laughed at her impatience. "Give me a month or two and I'll have a very rough first draft waiting for your prying eyes."

"I'm so excited," she clapped her hands together, before turning serious and putting her hands on her hips. "Now don't think you distracted me enough from telling me what really happened last night."

I turned away in defeat, thinking I was in the clear. "I just…" I started rinsing out my mug, before placing it in my dishwasher. "I kissed someone I shouldn't be kissing."

"Like who? A pimp… A drug dealer?"

"No," I laughed. "He's just… not good for me."

"Again… Is he a wanted criminal?" She pressed. "Because unless he's in legal trouble he can't be that bad… Oh! Is he married?"

"No, it's not like that," I ran a hand through my hair. "It's just not someone I should be kissing." I could tell she wasn't satisfied with that information. "Look. I'll tell you in a month or so. But right now, I have a lot to sort through in this brain of mine, because it's not even making sense to me."

"Fine," she pursed her lips. "But I won't forget. One month from today I am knocking on your door and asking about mystery Mr. bad man."

"Ok," I couldn't help but laugh. "I think Caroline is rubbing off on you."

"Oh no," she frowned as she realized I was right. "I need help."

Before I knew it a couple more months had passed. I had been so busy writing my second book, and sending my first one off to publishers, hoping someone would take a chance on me.

I hadn't seen or spoken to Damon since that drunken night, and if I was being honest… it bothered me. I was hoping he'd at least call and apologize for kissing me. Or I was hoping he'd pretend like it never happened, and he'd go back to pissing me off and being an inconsiderate dick. But it was complete radio silence on both our ends.

Now that it was summer and I was off from work, I had more time for my writing which was exciting. But it also gave me more time to think and dwell.

I had been thinking about Stefan a lot. His birthday had just been last week, and he would have turned 27. I think about what I would have planned for him. How he would have loved whatever I got him, just because he loved me.

I was stuck writing my second book. At first the ideas were flowing, and I felt like I had so much to say. Then about halfway through I got stuck, I hadn't been able to write a single sentence in a week, at least not without deleting it seconds later.

"Ugh!" I aggressively hit the delete button for the millionth time this morning.

I pushed away from my computer sick of staring at the same spot for several days. I stood up and stretched out my muscles. I bent over stretching out my lower back. I rang my fingers several times feeling the ache from typing so much for the past few months. I rolled my neck, noticing how stiff it had gotten over time.

There was a rapid pounding at my front door, and it had my heart banging in my chest. I was terrified thinking I was about to be robbed and assaulted from the aggression of the knock. I hesitantly approached my front door peeking through the side window.

I relaxed when I saw Damon through the glass.

"Damon," I breathed as I opened the door. "What are you doing here?"

My heart started to race again, as he sped past me. "I can't believe this!" He stalked into my living room. "I can't fucking believe it!" His voice didn't sound upset but I was so confused.

"What? What's going on?" I followed him.

He turned to face me his face was happy. I've never seen him look so happy. "My work is going to be printed," he was out of breath, I would've thought he jogged here.

"You won?!" I beamed.

"No," he shook his head. "Even better," his hands were shaking as he handed me some papers. "The guy who was in charge of picking the photography submissions liked my pictures so much he sent them to a good friend of his. His friend owns this fragrance company for women, and they want to use it as a printed ad."

"A printed ad?" I wasn't sure how that was better.

"These pictures will be in all major magazines. I'm talking People, Cosmo, Women's Health…"

"What?!" I started to jump up and down, feeling so excited for him. "You're kidding me, right?!"

"No," he shook his head. "I just got off the phone with them. I mean… he contacted me last week and I knew it was a possibility. He had me do some edits on the pictures, but I had no idea how serious he was. He sent me over the final product. I told him I just needed to talk to one person before giving him the go ahead."

"Who?" My eyebrows raised in confusion.

"You," The word seemed heavy. It was one simple uncomplicated word. But it seemed to hold so much gravity. The way it melted off his lips made me shiver. "I mean it's your face. It'll be in every major magazine."

The realization hit me. "Holy shit," I breathed. "Are you sure they don't want you to retake it with like an actual model? Someone skinnier… prettier."

"Are you crazy?" He half smiled. "You're gorgeous. If you didn't have such a big brain, I'd tell you to be a model."

"Damon," I scolded him with a smile.

"Look," he flipped the images over.

I looked down at the first picture. It was one of me lying across the fallen tree trunk. My back was slightly arched up to the sky. My face turned to the camera, my lips slightly parted. My dark hair cascading down my bare shoulder. The strap of my dress hung off my arm. The black dress was flowing down, revealing a lot of leg but still tasteful.

I had to admit… I had no idea I could pull it off. I actually liked the picture of myself. It was never something I would have done, but Damon knew how to push it out of me.

I flipped it behind the next picture and I audibly gasped. It was the one of Damon and me. The one where his lips faintly touched the crook of my neck. My head was slightly tilted back, facing the camera. My eyes were closed, and it looked like I was taking an inhale, which was probably very likely.

Damon's body was pressed to mine, his abs visible from the side. It was a tease of what he really had going on. His arms tightly wrapped around my waist, making the muscles in his arm bulge. I didn't even realize, my back arm had been tangled in his wet hair, the other was softly wrapped around his bicep. The rain made it that much more… beautiful. It was sexy, romantic, soft, sweet, beautiful… it was everything.

"Oh my gosh," I finally spoke.

"I know what you're thinking," he smirked. "I should be a model too. I know have the face and the body for it, but I like being behind the camera much better than in front of it." He teased.

I gave him an eyeroll. "These are incredible Damon."

"Thanks to you," he smiled.

"That was all you," I shook my head in disagreement. "How about we celebrate?" I ran off into my kitchen looking at my wine rack and pulling out a bottle. "I can cook us dinner too," I held up the bottle smiling at him.

"I'm down to celebrate how amazing I am," he wiggled his eyebrows. "But we should probably limit ourselves to just one glass. Unless you want to end up kissing again."

I flushed remembering our last encounter.

"I'm kidding," he walked up to me. The back of his hand brushed my cheek. "You wish you could kiss this again," he smirked confidently.

I smacked his hand away, "You are so cocky."

"Hey, I'm a big deal now," he walked into my kitchen leaning against the counter.

I opened the cupboard pulling out a box of spaghetti noodles. "Just take my compliment and swallow your pride before I point out your many flaws."

He tried hiding his smile. He looked around for a pot, as I took out the other ingredients for spaghetti. Once he found a pot and filled it with water, he turned on the stove. "So, does that mean you're ok with your picture being out there for the world to see?"

"Yeah, it's fine," I dumped the noodles in the water, and started making the sauce. "It's not like I was naked or anything."

"That'll be the next shoot," he teased.

I laughed, "Keep dreaming."

"Oh, I do baby," He reached behind me opening up drawers.

"What are you looking for?" I asked, as I started making the sauce.

"Wine bottle opener."

"Left," I pointed on the other side of me.

He gently rested his hand on my butt as he snaked his arm to search through the drawer.

"Really?!" I shouted at him.

"What?" He looked confused.

"You totally just grabbed my ass," I turned to face him, my hands on my hips.

He snorted, "My hand grazed your ass. There's a big difference."

"Not really," I sassed.

He stepped close to me, snaking his arms between the open spaces of my arms. His hands gently grazed the top of my ass pulling me into his body, "This is a graze," he looked at me. "And this"- His hands moved down the swell of my sculpted ass and he grabbed a handful in each hand, giving it a tight squeeze. "Is a grab."

I shoved him away from me, and turned back to the stove. I wanted to look disgusted, but I couldn't help the smile. He made me feel giddy. His flirting was exciting and thrilling. Was he really into me? Or was he like this with everyone?

"Just open the wine, or I'll demonstrate the difference between a kick and a punch to your balls," I warned.

"Feisty," he said finding the opener. "I like it."

"Does this work on all the girls?" I stirred the noodles.

"Why?" He popped the cork off the bottle. "Is it working on you?"

"No," I answered immediately turning away from him.

"You know," he slowly approached me from the side. He swept the fallen hair, and brushed it behind my ear and off my neck. "Your blushing gives you away," the back of his knuckles gently grazed my skin. He pressed his lips to my ear, "sweetheart."

We talked and talked and talked through dinner. We moved to the couch as we limited ourselves to two glasses of wine. We learned so much about each other in the past few hours, and I could feel myself crossing that line again. It wasn't just physical anymore. Sure… his looks alone could get me into bed, if I didn't have the will power to do the right thing. But now it was more. He had so much passion and creativity. His ability to understand me was unlike anyone… even my own husband on some level.

I felt like I always had to do the smartest thing versus what I actually wanted. Stefan wanted us to be stable. He wanted comfort, and to feel steady.

But Damon was living his dream. He worked enough at the club as a bartender to feed and house himself. But all his extra time was spent on doing the things he loved. Sure… maybe it was reckless. But at least he was having fun.

We were sitting on my couch facing each other. The TV was on in the background, and my one leg was resting across his lap.

"Are you going to let me read your book?" He asked.

"No," I blushed.

"Why not?"

"It's embarrassing," I blushed.

"Well as soon as you get published, I'll be the first in line."

"No," I leaned forward and buried my head in his chest.

"What's so embarrassing about a fictional book?" He chuckled. His hand lightly brushing the ends of my hair.

"It's not totally fiction."

He pulled me in closer, so both of my legs were across his lap. "Is it about Stefan?" he asked.

"Kind of," I nodded. I peeked up at him, "I'm working on the second one."

"Am I in your books?" He joked.

My face turned beat red. When I started writing my second book, I introduced another character who was the main characters new love interest. About a quarter of the way through I realized his characteristics were almost identical to Damon's.

"I am," his smile widened.

"No!" I said a little too defensively.

"Oh my gosh I am!" He tickled my sides.

"It's not even a true story," I shouted giggling.

His body tackled me, and I flailed like a fish out of water. We both ended up laying down on the small couch. My back pressed against his chest.

"Please tell me you made me like a drug lord, or something powerful?" He teased in my ear.

"No, there are no drug lords!" I turned my head slightly back.

"Am I at least rich?" His hand was resting over my flat stomach making small circles with his thumb.

"You're not in my book," I lied.

His lips grazed my exposed neck, "does my character get to kiss the main character."

"Stop!" I turned in his arms, so I was facing him. His one leg was wedged between mine.

I looked into his eyes for what felt like an eternity. His smile was still smug, and there was still a glint of teasing in his eyes. "You're very hard to read."

"I didn't realize I was so complicated," he mused.

I looked into his eyes trying to figure him out.

"What's on your mind?" His expression morphed into a serious look. Something I didn't get to see often from him.

"It's just…" I looked down at my hand that was lightly pressed against his chest. "All your teasing, and flirty comments…"

"You're adorable," his thumb and forefinger caught my chin.

My eyes flickered to his.

"Are you wondering if this is what I'm like with all girls?" He asked.

I nodded.

He flipped me back over and crushed me to his chest. "Don't worry your pretty little head." He pressed his body to mine.

I felt so good being in his arms. I didn't want him to go. I was hoping we could stay like this all night.

The harder I tried to remind myself this was wrong, the more it felt right. My thoughts were running wild as I sorted through the pros and cons of taking this further. The pros list was beginning to grow longer, but I still had a lot to think about.

Somewhere between thinking and worrying, we both fell asleep in each other's arms, on my small cozy couch.

I was spending the weekend at parents' lake house, and it was the perfect getaway. The weather was perfectly warm and sunny. We had some much-needed family time. It was hard to get the four of us together, now that Jeremy and I were both grown, and busy adults.

I sat by the fire, cuddled up with a blanket and book. Jeremy and my dad were inside watching a movie. My mom had come to join me, a glass of wine in her hand. "Mind if I join you?" She asked sitting in a chair.

"Not at all," I gave her a small smile, before tucking my book away.

"This was nice," my mom smiled happily. "We needed this."

I nodded checking my phone for the hundredth time that day.

"You seem a million miles away," my mom observed.

I looked at her setting my phone down. "It's nothing."

"What's going on?" My mom took a sip of her wine. "I've noticed you seem a bit distracted this weekend."

"Sorry," I apologized. "I'm just… trying to figure things out."

"Like what?"

I sighed. Unlike Bonnie or Caroline my mom gave pretty sound advice. I didn't know if I should be fully honest with her or leave out bits of information.

"I have a friend," I thought about how I was going to word this. "He's really helped me through my grief, and I don't even think he realizes. And lately…" I couldn't believe I was admitting this out loud. "The friend's line is getting a little blurred."

My mom didn't look shocked. "How does that make you feel?"

"Scared," I frowned.

"What about it makes you scared?"

"Well for one, I have no idea how he feels about me. I would hate to be misreading things. Two… I don't want to risk losing him for something that might not even be real. He's been a huge influence on my healing, and I would hate for that to go away. Three… He's not someone I should even be considering feeling this way about. And four… Even if everything were to work out perfectly, people would judge. It would be wrong, and it's too soon." I felt a huge relief off my shoulders as I said the words out loud, and at the same time it made things more real. I couldn't deny my feelings any longer.

"That's a list," my mom chuckled lightly. She quickly swallowed when she saw the worried look in my eyes. "But starting with the first one… You never know until you ask."

"And what if I'm wrong and I'm totally misreading things? That would be so humiliating," I flushed at the thought.

"That's part of the risk," she shrugged. "What makes you question whether he does or not?"

"He's a flirty person," I chewed on my lower lip. "He's very touchy and affectionate. But he doesn't say anything to make me believe he feels something."

"He's a man, Elena. Their love language is usually touch," she chuckled.

"Not Stefan," I crossed my arms as I sat back in my chair. "He was pretty clear right from the beginning."

"Not all men," she agreed. "And as far as the second one on your list… If it's not worth losing the friendship, then don't let it."

"I don't know that we can control that," I looked into the fire.

"Well then I think that will answer the first part," she sipped on her wine. "Next on that hefty list of yours. Why shouldn't you consider being with him?"

"It's not that he's a bad guy…" I tried figuring out how to explain this with my mom without saying it's my brother-in-law. "It would just not be good if we were to get together."

"You lost me on that one," she admitted. She must sense my want for the guy to remain anonymous because she didn't press it any further. "And to wrap up your little list… who cares what people think? Life is too precious to live it by what other people think. It's your life Elena. Live it the way you want to."

I sighed, wishing it was that simple.

"I don't need a name, but can you tell me about him?" She leaned forward in interest. "What did he do to help you get through the grief?"

I smiled as I thought about it. "He's just different. My entire life I was so focused on a plan. I graduated high school, went to college, got a degree, got a stable job, got married," I listed off my accomplishments. "But he's made me slow down and realize there is so much more to life. He bartends so that he can pay for his apartment and groceries, but his passion is photography. He focuses most of his energy on the things he loves, and not the other way around."

"You would have found that reckless," my mother pointed out.

"But he's made me see it differently now," I tried explaining it to her. "He works, and pays his bills and cares for himself. But he does the bare minimum so that he can do what he loves. I mean what are we doing if all we do is work, and especially if our job is just a wage and not a passion? It's just a waste of time."

"How does that help you heal?" She seemed lost.

"I've been focusing on writing," I admitted. "And I love it. I love it so much. It's been therapeutic. It's helped me work through my feelings, and my grief. And maybe someday… if it ever takes off… I can focus on that being my full-time wage, and maybe just sub when I need to."

"Do you really think that's reliable?" I could sense the judgment.

"It could be," I sounded defensive. "Look. I'm not saying it'd be anytime soon, but down the road I'd like to live my life that way."

"Just be careful," she looked worried.

"Mom," I gave her a look. "I'm still Elena. I'm not going to throw my life away."

"I know," she half smiled. "What else do you like about him?"

"He makes me laugh," I smiled at the vivid memory of us on the couch. "He has this sarcastic asshole persona, but underneath all of that he's sweet."

"Well…" she thought about our conversation. "I think you need to just let things play out the way they are going to play out. Try not to stress about possibilities, and just enjoy what you have now."

"Yeah," I chewed on the tip of my thumb.

"Just don't worry too much," she studied me.

I tried giving her a reassuring smile. "Thanks for listening mom."

"Always," she sat back in her chair, lifting her feet to warm them up by the fire.

Suddenly my phone buzzed, and I looked over to see Damon's name pass across the screen. I couldn't help the rush of excitement that washed over me.

I picked up the phone looking over at my mom.

"Is that him?" She wondered.

I couldn't help the stupid grin that crossed my face, "yes."

"I told you not to stress," she smiled.

I walked away from the fire, not wanting her to hear me to talk to him.

"Hello?" I picked up the phone.

"I have a proposition for you," his deep voice filled my ears.

A/N: Let me know what you thought about this chapter!