A/N Thanks to those who reviewed!
CHAPTER 2
"Damon," was all Stefan said and his eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, as if he didn't want me to notice how not ok he was with his brother's presence.
I glanced to my right at the man now hovering next to our table and promptly stopped breathing. If I was impressed by Stefan's good looks, I was well and truly blown away by Damon's. He was wearing a pair of those 'strategically distressed' jeans that I always made fun of (because who would pay $100 for ripped jeans) and I'd never seen overpriced jeans look sexier. His solid torso was wrapped in a tight black t-shirt and framed by an admittedly bad-ass leather jacket and black biker boots rounded out the whole 'social miscreant' ensemble. Damn. My gaze drifted further north to take in his face. High cheekbones, strong jaw, full pink lips that looked way too soft for their own good, jet black hair that contrasted his ivory skin impeccably, long dark eyelashes and a manly dusting of stubble that Stefan lacked. He looked like he just got out of bed after having sex for hours and didn't give two shits. It was hot as hell.
Oh, for fucks sake, I'm ogling again, aren't I? What is with me today? Totally lost my cool over BOTH of these Salvatore boys in just one day? I'm fucked. Aaaaand, yep. He caught me. Damon's lips had turned up in a self-satisfied, sideways smirk as his eyes moved to mine. Jesus, tap dancing Christ, who in the ever-loving FUCK has eyes like that? They were the most breathtakingly beautiful shade of...- Aqua? Cerulean? What the hell would you call that color? Gorgeous.- that I had ever seen. Chrystal blue, with a fierceness that could pierce the strongest armor, dark-rimmed and captivating, varied hues dancing with a glint that was surely caused by amusement at my stupefaction.
"And who might you be, gorgeous?" Damon asked as he captured my hand and brought it to his lips. I tried my best to ignore the spark I felt at his touch and the tingles that subsequently erupted through my whole body.
"About to be your worst nightmare, if you don't stop with the whole chivalrous act," I retorted after instantly regaining my composure and removing my hand from his. "It doesn't come across the way you probably hope it does when you've got that cocky smirk plastered all over your face." Who the hell does this guy think he is, anyway? I instantly hated him, I realized, despite the outrageous sex appeal.
"Ooooh, feisty," Damon replied, briefly widening his eyes and twitching his eyebrows.
"And I suppose you assume that little eye thing you just did will reduce me to putty in your hands? Think again, Lancelot, and resume your quest. I am not your maiden fair. And my name is Elena, not gorgeous."
Stefan, who had been watching our exchange with unguarded curiosity, snorted loudly and chuckled. Damon had the good sense to look mildly perturbed, if only for a moment, before the bravado returned full-force.
"Hmm, we'll see." He shot me a half smile and a wink, and a sideways glance at Stefan that was returned with unbridled vehemence. "Ladies, I bid thee adieu," he nodded at us both curtly before wandering away.
"OK. What the FUCK was all that about?" I asked, once I was sure Damon was gone.
"What? You mean you weren't impressed by the god's-gift-to-women that is my big bro? What was it that threw you? The overly-aggressive charm or the misogyny?" Stefan asked through a rumbling chuckle.
"No, that is something that we are going to further address later. What I meant, and what I want to know now, is what the hell was going on between the two of you?"
Stefan let out a long, pained sigh. "My brother and I don't get along."
"You FUCKING THINK?" Obviously.
"No, I mean we really don't get along. He pretty much hates me."
"Not to be nosy but... Elaborate, please."
"What can I say? The guy's a dick." At my pointed stare, he went on, sighing, "He just really likes to prove that he's better than me at everything. It gets really annoying. He thinks he's a rock star because he's in a band and all the ladies love him. I mean, it's ridiculous. He plays these tiny venues but still, everywhere he goes, he gets panties thrown at him. Literally. I think it's all gone to his head."
"Was that whole act meant to make me uncomfortable? Or you?" I asked, hesitantly.
Stefan let out a labored sigh, rolling his eyes and rubbing a hand over his face and then through his hair.
"I have no idea. I never do, with him," Stefan replied. Somehow, I was less than convinced that that was a completely honest answer but I dropped the subject anyway.
The next morning I was sitting in my living room with my two best friends trying desperately to avoid the topic of my 'date' the previous evening. I really just didn't understand the insatiable teenaged need to gossip and giggle about boys and dating. It was all such a charade, so juvenile. Caroline loved to plot, manipulate and scheme. Bonnie loved to analyze, compare and judge. It was all a game to them. A game I didn't want to play. Unfortunately, it seemed the requisite time to make small talk before delving into the obligatory post-date debriefing had passed.
"Sooooo?" Caroline was sitting cross-legged on the couch next to me, elbows on knees, chin on fists, staring at me with those enormous bright blue eyes, awaiting an answer. I looked to Bonnie for help but was met with her typically cool demeanor and one quirked eyebrow as she lounged, sprawled across the love seat. An eyebrow quirk from Bonnie was as expressive as a bounce-and-shriek from Caroline. Obviously I wasn't getting out of this. Is this really just a teenager thing, or are my friends always gonna be like this?
"Ugh. Fine," I conceded. "Whaddya wanna know?"
"Everything," my not-annoying-at-all-nope-not-in-the-slightest friends replied in unison. Sighing, I reluctantly recounted the events of the previous night- at times, being under duress, in elaborate detail.
"Oh. My. God. Can I be your maid of honor?"
"Caroline!" Bonnie and I shouted.
"What? C'mon, 'Len, you totally just met the one, let me live a little."
Live a little. Yeah, that's what this was to Caroline. This was the epitome of a fulfilled existence to her. It sometimes worried me how shallow and... pedestrian her goals were. Any reasonably interesting life experience she had that was beyond the realm of parties and boys and planning her (or my) future wedding, she came about vicariously. It constantly both perturbed and impressed her that I flew by the seat of my pants. If something felt good I did it. I paid little heed to such benign concepts as convention and responsibility. I had dropped out of school the year before, left home and taken every penny I had and embarked on a three month greyhound trip all across the country. I was currently living in my own hole-in-the-wall apartment and working as a bartender in a dingy dive bar near Chinatown, where I had easily convinced the owner that I was 21. He didn't even bother checking, as most of his employees were illegal anyway. I didn't much feel cut out to be a teenager, so I kinda skipped it. I was often mistaken for older.
"First of all, I just met him. It's a little soon to start calling him 'the one'. Yeah, sure, we get along and yeah, sure, he managed to make me a little nervous, which is saying something but, really Care. Let's try tapping the breaks and steering into the slide, ok babe?"
Caroline huffed and rolled her eyes, I smirked and Bonnie snorted.
"So what's with the brother?" Bonnie asked, intuitively getting right to the heart of my own thoughts, as usual.
"Yeah," Caroline exclaimed. "Is he hot and, if so, can I get dibs?"
"Don't even go there, Care. The guy is a total ass. I'm talking pompous prick of epic fucking proportions," I warned.
"So he's hot then," Bonnie deduced with a knowing smirk.
"Ridiculously," I dead-panned. Bonnie and Caroline erupted into giggles and I couldn't help but join in.
The next few months were a whirlwind and passed in a blur, so caught up was I in the excitement of a budding relationship. Stefan and I continued to go on 'dates' (gods, I really hated that word) and get to know each other. I learned that he was taking a year off before starting pre-law at West Chester. I even introduced him to my girls and he quickly found a home inside our little group. Caroline, of course, absolutely loved him immediately. Bonnie was a little more hesitant but seemed to accept him. I would frequently catch her watching him like she was waiting for him to reveal his big, dark, evil secret and, quite frankly, I couldn't blame her. I just knew there was something hidden beneath the surface of that kind smile but it still remained a mystery. I hadn't asked him again about his family drama, choosing instead to wait until he was ready to divulge more. Which he apparently wasn't. Not yet, anyway. And that was ok with me. After all, I hadn't exactly opened up the floodgates yet either, with respect to my own past.
The first time Stefan and I kissed, Caroline almost threw a party. The first time we had sex she was mentally designing wedding invitations. When he told me he loved me and I said it back without hesitation, even I was getting a little giddy. Sure, there were still things left to learn about each other but I had never felt so comfortable with anyone before. Stefan felt safe. It was nice to have someone there for me when I needed them. To hold me when I had a bad day or celebrate with me when something great happened. I was starting to realize that this whole relationship thing might have its merits, after all.
On a rainy Monday in January I was just starting my shift at the bar ("Jo's". I know, creative, right?). I had finished wiping down the counters and was restocking the top shelf when I heard a familiar voice from behind me at the bar.
"Double bourbon, neat."
I spun around and met those crystalline eyes with a glare. The momentary look of genuine surprise on Damon's face almost made me falter but I held strong to my animosity.
"Middle of the day on a Monday. Aiming high, are we?" I asked with a haughty sneer.
"Well, well, well. If it isn't little Miss Elena. Are you even old enough to work here?"
I quickly glanced around me to make sure we were alone before leaning over the counter and whispering threateningly, "As far as anyone here is concerned, I'm 21. And I would like it to stay that way, got it?"
Damon put his hands up in surrender. "Ok! Jeez, no need for the hostility! I'll keep your secret."
"Thank y-" I began before I was cut off.
"On one condition." Ugh. What is this guy's problem? He was looking at me inquisitively, head slightly tilted, like he was trying to solve a puzzle.
"What do you want, Damon?" I asked through a sigh, rolling my eyes exasperatedly.
"Do shots with me."
"Why would I do shots with you? I don't like you." It was the most obvious thing in the world to me and I wasn't quite sure why he wasn't getting it. My facial expression pretty much portrayed exactly that.
"Because you, my dearest Elena, need to loosen up. This is the second time I've seen you and both times you've looked like you're just waiting for an excuse to punch someone. I can only imagine that you've got a soft spot for lost puppy dogs, which would explain how St. Stefan has gotten so close without serious injury."
Damon's annoyingly cocky smirk was back in full force. What bothered me more than that, though, was that I actually laughed. Stefan was a little like a lost puppy sometimes. He clung to me like I was his savior in a storm. It was endearing but also a little repulsive. Regardless, I should NOT be laughing at Damon's jokes at his brother's expense.
"Maybe- and I dunno, I'm just throwing wild theories out there- maybe I always look like I wanna punch someone every time you see me because every time you see me I'm seeing you and can barely suppress the urge." I put on a big fake smile as I delivered the barb.
Damon laughed, a deep belly laugh. It was infectious and I had to fight hard to keep my cool composure intact.
"I like you," he said, through chuckles, his blue eyes dancing with mirth.
"Well that's unfortunate, because I hate you," I replied, my traitorous lips threatening to curl upwards in a genuine smile as Damon's laughter got louder again.
"Look," he said, turning serious. "I wanna do shots with you. I promise I'm not trying to pick you up. You're my brother's girl and I respect that. I just wanna see what you're like when you're not hiding behind that tough front. What would it take to get you to loosen up a bit? What's the worst that could happen, anyway?"
I quirked my eyebrow at that last comment. "Famous last words..." I muttered. Damon chuckled again, rolling his eyes and shrugging playfully in silent concession. Looking around the bar, I suddenly came up with the perfect way to avoid doing shots with him without backing down from his little challenge. Sitting alone at a table in the back corner was Kelly Donovan. Kelly's son Matt and I grew up together and even dated for a while in Middle School before we grew apart. Kelly was well known as the ice queen in my bar. She was more standoffish than I was, after being used and abused one too many times. She'd told me on numerous occasions, with conviction, how she had completely sworn off men. I watched with amusement most nights as men of all types stepped up to the plate only to strike out. Sometimes she turned them down outright, but she liked to toy with the good looking ones for a while before she crushed them. This was going to be perfect.
"Ok, Damon. Here's what we're gonna do." His eyes looked so hopeful I almost laughed, but I would save my laughter for his inevitable failure. "See that woman over there?" He glanced in the direction I was gesturing and nodded. "I get off at seven. You obviously consider yourself quite the ladies man so, I want you to prove it. Put your money where your mouth is, so to speak. If you can get that woman's number before seven I will have shots with you." I smiled because I knew I had him exactly where I wanted him. This was going to be so fun to watch. Damon looked like the cat that got the cream.
"Gauntlet thrown, challenge accepted, Elena," he said with a smirk and a wiggle of his eyebrows.
"Pfft, cocky much?" I asked.
"Very much," he replied, doing that eye thing again that I wanted so badly to hate but secretly found irresistible.
"Game on then, Damon."
"Game on, Elena."
With that, he sauntered away towards Kelly's table and I went back to restocking my bar, waiting for the show to start. My plan was fool proof. Or, so I thought.
