Disclaimer: I do not own The Vampire Diaries or anything else attached to a copyright.


~Chapter Six~


Listen, the distance between us, could've took a while
Once we closed that difference, you'd turned up like a friend of mine
Every once in a while, the little things make me smile
As if one of our longshots paid off
One of our longshots paid off

~Catfish and the Bottlemen, Longshot~


Days later, I find myself in the same spot I was in a few days ago.

In my best friend's house, on her couch, waiting for her to return from the kitchen.

It takes entirely too long for her to join me in the living room. She is carrying two glasses of lemonade in her hands. She reminds me of Snow White, who had been so happy to take care of her friends, singing, cleaning, entertaining woodland creatures. The only thing missing are the birds chirping and circling her head like a halo.

She places our cups on two lime green coasters and turns her body toward mine. Elena is radiating pure joy and I'm glad to see that—I really am—but this whole situation is going to span months, despite Mystic Falls court system lacking the huge number of cases that most larger cities or towns have. To add insult to injury, what goes up must come down. That's not to say the wins (like the one we had on Monday) won't outnumber our losses, but it won't be like that straight across the board.

I've told Jeremy this.

I've told his mother and father this.

I've spoken to Matt about it, who tried his hardest not to get his wife's hopes too high.

And, of course, I've explained it to Elena, who's smiling face I can't get away from. If she isn't physically in front of me, expressing her thanks and relief, I'm followed by her brown doe-eyes in every picture she's hung up in her home.

She downright refuses to believe that I won't get homerun after homerun. Elena continuously sings my praises to anyone who will listen. She doesn't have many people who she can gush with. Her husband, parents, Jeremy, and me. It's gotten to be too much, because I know there is a decent chance that everything will go belly-up.

I know this is all part of a coping mechanism, but everyone has gotten tired of hearing my name—myself included. She's resorted to calling her Aunt Jenna because of the looks of irritation she gets from us when she starts spewing sunshine and rainbows.

And Elena Gilbert is my Achilles heel.

At least she is when I know she needs me.

"So, I had a great idea," she is saying.

"Oh, about what?" I take a long sip of lemonade.

"Well, we've all been so stressed out lately…" she pauses, watching my reaction. I don't falter. "And Matt's getting together with one of his friends tonight."

"We can't go out, Elena. I wish we could, really I do, but until this is all over we have to lay low. Public outings are a no-go."

She laughs lightly—like I'm the one who made the suggestion. "Bon, we're staying here. Matt invited Stefan over. You remember him?"

I nod. I don't like the direction this conversation is going.

"He and Matt reconnected when they realized they both worked at the high school."

Apparently, I should have read more into my talk with Stefan.

"That's… nice."

"Yeah, remember how cute Caroline Forbes and I thought he was?"

"How could I forget?" She had swooned about him non-stop until Matt asked her out in the middle of the school year. Then, everything was all about Matthew Donavan.

And then I had a front row seat to the soap opera that had been Elena's break up.

"And his brother, Damon is coming. He's still as hot as he was back then."

"Yeah, sure. Rub it in. You had three guys fighting over you."

My voice remains steady, but inside my stomach is flip-flopping. I had done such a good job making sure there wasn't any overlap between the rebellious Bonnie and the responsible Bonnie. Why has the universe decided to fuck me over so many years later?"

There's that laugh again. "They're weren't any fights, Bon. I mean, if there were, I wouldn't have minded, but it's always been Matt."

"Well, you guys deserve a little fun. Let me know how that goes."

Elena grabs my wrist. "Please stay, Bon."

I have a valid excuse. I need to prepare for the discovery and prep for the upcoming hearing—Jeremy's fate depends on it. The words should roll right off my tongue, but they don't. I spent the past couple nights getting everything I have so far in order. I won't get all of the other paperwork—like a copy of the crime scene photos, autopsy report, any evidence the prosecution wants to use, and potential witness list—until it's ready to be given to me, which will take a few days.

So… my calendar is clear. I had planned on asking Damon if he wanted to run away from all the drama for a few hours, but I now know he's busy.

And she's looking at me, silently pleading me to remain where I am. My wrist is still in her grasp.

"Please? I want you to unwind, you've been so helpful, I want to make it up to you. You dropped everything for me… let's hang out, we haven't done that in so long."

I am sighing. I know before I even respond that I've lost this battle. I'm going to stay; I'm going to partake in whatever silly "party games" Elena wants to play. I just reassure myself that it's just because she wants me to before I give her an affirmative.

"Fine—but there better be cheese fries involved."

"And wine coolers, pizza, and onion rings."

Alright, I'm hanging around for food, alcohol, and Elena. That's it. I have no other reasons for not getting off my ass and walking away.

Or so I tell myself.


The sky is turning a pretty shade of pink when Matt and the Salvatores waltz through the door.

Elena has everything all set up. Pepperoni pizza in the box on her kitchen table, accompanied by little paper plates. The fries and onion rings are in individual containers, though not the ones they had been delivered in. No, Elena broke out bowls with her last name printed on them.

She denies it, but I know Elena went on a giant Etsy shopping spree just hours after that gold ring was placed on her finger.

Tiny ramakins with ketchup and buffalo dipping sauce sit on both ends of the table, next to a pile of napkins. Oh, and I can't forget about the plastic utensils inside of a few mason jars. If I didn't know any better, I'd accuse Martha Stewart of taking over my best friend's body.

Stefan and Damon follow Matt into the kitchen. The younger Salvatore looks at ease, like this is just another night to him. Damon, well, he looks especially devious at the moment.

Something about the gleam in his eyes… the way his lips turn up in the slightest of smirks…

I take a giant gulp of the tropical-flavored wine cooler Elena forced upon me minutes ago.

"Hey, honey," Elena greets Matt with a peck on the cheek. "Stefan, Damon, you remember my best friend, Bonnie…"

Stefan's mouth opens, but his brother pushes past him, elbowing him in the ribs before he has a chance to ruin our façade.

Most people would just say they remember running into each other a few times in school, but Damon is a fan of making me sweat. Why let Stefan take away all his fun?

"I think I do," he replies, turning to Elena as she hands each man a beer. "Bennett, right?" Now he's speaking to me.

"The one and only," I say.

All four of them take seats around the table. I don't miss how Damon deliberately sits directly across from me. I swear he even has the audacity to wink at me, though I can't be positive. Matt and Elena end up next to one another (of course) and Stefan on the right side of his older brother.

We eat, making offhanded comments to one another at first. Well, everyone but me converses, I choose to stay quiet, picking at my onion rings. Every so often, I catch a pair of crystalline blue eyes wandering in my direction. I pretend I don't notice.

But then the drinks come faster and faster.

I even get a little chattier, but once I realize that it's going to my head I stop imbibing.

The guys are drinking moderately.

Elena, however, does the exact opposite. And when she's drunk, she runs her mouth to anyone with ears—animals included. She also has loose lips, and a penchant for off-color stories.

I'm chuckling along with her tales, especially the ones from her twenty-second birthday, and then I hear my name.

"But that's nothing," she insists, waving her hand around. "Just wait until I tell you where she lost her virginity." She points to me, giggle echoing through the kitchen.

I suddenly feel very hot. I open my mouth to stop her, but Damon is quicker than me. You'd think I'd have learned to intercept him by now, that it would be second nature.

"Do tell," he encourages, watching me from the corner of his eye.

"In the cemetery!"

"No way!" Damon exclaims like the stereotypical teenage girl at a sleepover.

Stefan doesn't react, as this probably isn't shocking news to him.

"Yeah! And she was so reserved… I didn't even know she liked anyone. She never told me who it was, either."

"Is that how you got the t-shirt?" Damon asks, nodding at the Beatles logo covering my chest.

My throat burns as I finish off the bottle. "Yeah, I thought it looked better on me."

"I wonder if the lucky guy thinks the same…"

Something told me I shouldn't keep wearing it, but it is the most comfortable shirt in my possession and I've been in sensible blazers and blouses so much… it's exhausting sometimes, having to look just so every day. And, to be fair to myself, I hadn't known Elena intended on having more company.

"It was a long time ago," I say, "It's not important now…"

"It's not unimportant," Damon argues. "I think it's cute of you to keep a memento. It must have meant a lot to you."

If he thinks he's going to bait me into doing something embarrassing, he's mistaken. "Maybe… what about you, Casanova? Have any conquests you thought were special?"

"Of course," he smirks. "I'm not as much of an asshole as you thought I was. There were a few times I thought you found me charming…"

I don't say anything. I want to. I mean, I can play the game just as well as he can, but I can't think of anything particularly biting. At least, nothing that won't come dangerously close to something that doesn't need to be discussed.

"What about you guys," I use my empty bottle to gesture to the happily married couple. "Elena's told me some doozies."

And so the focus shifts to a very drunk brunette woman and a blushing blonde-haired man. Poor Stefan, I can't get a good grasp on what he is thinking… I can't seem to pay attention to him or the vulgar story being told.

I can't look away from Damon.