~11~

~Chapter Eleven~

I think it's time you walked this lonely road
all on your own
It's your cold day in the sun
Looks like your bleeding heart has already won

~Foo Fighters, Cold Day in the Sun~

I don't seek out Enzo's company for a few days.

Our—though, in all honesty it was mostly mine—decision to not go through with the abortion feels like it was the proverbial end to my romantic relationship with Enzo St. John.

And it makes me sad.

At first, I told myself (and Damon) that I changed my mind because it felt too real, because I couldn't pretend that "it" never existed after I had physical confirmation, but deep down I know it's more than that. In that moment, it became clear that I really couldn't re-tool my feelings of regret if that's what I experienced afterward.

It was my choice. That was my baby on the surprisingly detailed picture, despite the fact that it still kind of looked like a kidney bean. And I realized that I don't really know what I want. I'm only aware of what everyone else wants for (and from) me.

And sure, I still might wind up on that uncomfortable exam table again, but if I do it will be because I decided it was the right course of action. However, the more time passes, the more I feel uncomfortable with that option.

I don't understand why, though.

Dating, love, marriage, and babies were never possibilities that entered my stream of conscious thoughts. But… in thinking about the blobby fetus and how much fun I had with Da—Enzo—I know it's because I didn't allow myself to think of those things as a part of my future. They don't mesh well with the endless cycle of school, school, school that I got used to focusing on. I just knew that I never liked the extra pressure, and that was alright—it was a necessary evil. I knew I wanted to study anything else but what Mom and Dad insisted upon, but that it didn't matter because if I were a great chemist, I would do great things.

I'd have the opportunity to save people who were perishing from illness.

I could invent a cure for cancer or a treatment for brain-eating amoebas.

I could save the world.

But I'd rather just be Bonnie—a bright, determined woman who loves her job, who is a present fixture in the lives of those she loves.

I crave the normalcy, the comfortability that those things would give me, but it won't be enough to satisfy Mom and Dad.

As I lie on my bed, arms crossed over my abdomen, eyes closed, I agonize over all of this. It feels like I've been in this pensive mode for hours and hours when my phone buzzes.

Opening one eye, I check the caller I.D.

Enzo.

I pick up immediately.

"Hey."

"Hey."

"Listen, I'm sorry I bailed—"

"It's fine," Enzo replies coolly. "Are you okay?"

"Um, yeah. I just… Damon wanted some advice and then my phone wasn't working well." Not a lie—sometimes service could be spotty at the beach.

He sighs in what sounds like relief. "I'm just happy it wasn't because you were still feeling sick."

"… Enzo, I'm so glad you called. I'm sorry we didn't get to spend any time together. I want to fix that."

"Do tell. How do you plan on making it up to me?"

This is dangerous, this line I'm walking. I should tell him it's over—for now, at least—that I need to figure some stuff out, but I don't. I can't. I like Enzo and he likes me, too. There won't be any harm in enjoying the mutual attraction for a few more weeks. Besides, Damon doesn't have to dump Rebekah. I shouldn't have to give up my boyfriend.

"How about a hike?"

"A hike?"

"Don't sound so unenthused. I promise—it'll be worth the sweat. And probably your tears, too."

"Oh—you promise?"

"Cross my heart." I make the hand motions even though he isn't able to see them.

A laugh. "I'm going to hold you to that, Bonnie."

"I wouldn't expect anything less."

"That's why I like you."

"I like that about me, too."

~~X~~

I am waiting for him by the park's entrance, checking my watch every other minute or so, anxious for his arrival. He's running late—as per usual—and I've concluded that it's impossible for Enzo to show up on time to any event, big or small.

He had been fifteen minutes late that day we met up at the Grille, I've noticed him lingering in the school's hallways long after the late bell rang, if he says he'll call at five he really means five-fifty, and the other times we've gone out I'm always there first.

Oh, and while I am guilty of dipping out of Tyler's kegger early—okay, very early—Enzo hadn't been there when I left with Damon. We were driving out of Mystic Falls when he texted Damon, who informed him that he required my judgmental bitchiness in order to solve a problem.

Another excuse that was vague enough to still be true.

I received a message from him when Damon drove past the Welcome to Mystic Falls—where our home becomes yours sign. It was a total of three letters: u, o, and k, which roughly translates to you okay?

That's another thing about Enzo, though I actually love this aspect of his easy-going personality: he expresses concern without prying. Caroline could learn something from him… well, no she probably couldn't. She's Caroline.

But Elena?

She should take notes, considering her strong convictions about my life. If she even wants to remain a part of my life, that is. We are still ignoring the other's existence and it's killing me.

I gaze up at the rainbow of red, orange, and yellow trees. Some branches totally bare, others desperately clinging to the chlorophyll-sapped leaves. It boggles my mind—the speed at which summer faded away, turning into autumn right before my eyes.

I've always been ill-at-ease with the rapid passage of time, the awareness that my window of avoiding conflict with Mom and Dad constantly tugging at the back of my mind. Sadly, under these new circumstances, it only seems to go faster.

And every little change is a reminder of that.

The sun sinks a bit lower, the sky darkening slowly. Another ten minutes go by. Parents are ushering their kids off the playground. I hear their evening schedules recited to them as they whine in protest.

One little boy is so unwilling to leave that he throws himself on the sidewalk, screaming something unintelligible as his mother grows stern with him.

That is when Enzo strolls over to me, hands in the pockets of his lightweight windbreaker. Casual posture and no sense of urgency, as if isn't bound by the same time constructs as the rest of the world. The kid, who is still thrashing around on the ground, would admire that quality in Enzo.

Sadly.

But any irritation I had for his unfashionable lateness dissolves when I meet his eyes and a huge grin breaks across his face. I return his smile when he reaches me, holding my hand out.

He bypasses my gesture completely, wrapping an arm around my waist, pulling me close, kissing me squarely on the mouth.

"I missed you," he declares, nose brushing against mine. I take a deep breath and get a whiff of his cologne, it's a different one than I am used to smelling on his skin: clean and woodsy, similar to what Damon wears.

So similar, in fact, that I'm a bit shocked when I open my eyes and I see warm, brown eyes peering at me and not icy blue ones.

Panic makes me freeze like a deer in headlights, unsettled by the brief lapse in consciousness. A psychologist would say that your sense of smell causes you to remember specific things—moments that are associated with that particular scent—but I'm horrified it happened anyway.

Damon shouldn't be on my mind.

Not now, when I'm spending time with my boyfriend, time that I probably won't have later, unless Enzo has the ability to forgive such a huge transgression (if I go through with it) or if Elena suddenly becomes vindictive and unleashes my secret to the entire student body, or if Caroline is being Caroline and has a slip of the tongue…

"… you didn't put bug spray on." I say, hoping he believes that it's the reason behind the way my back went stiff and why I gripped his forearms so tightly. "I told you to use it for a purpose—the bugs are going to eat you alive."

Enzo shrugs, chuckling. "You're so… nit-picky. I forgot. I don't suppose you want to act like a human shield between me and the mosquitos?"

"Not really—lucky for you I brought some with me." I reach into the side pocket of my bag and pull out a trial-sized bottle of bug spray.

"You're the best girlfriend ever," he says, taking my offering.

I chew on my bottom lip. I doubt he'll feel that way in a few months…

The little boy—Callum, as his mom called him in exasperation—cries even louder (a feat that I didn't think possible), causing Enzo to pause his application and look over at the pair just inside the archway of the park.

"That's getting to be annoying."

"What… the boy? He's just a toddler. He doesn't get why he has to go home—he just knows what he wants. It's normal; just ignore it. He'll stop soon."

My boyfriend regards me with a look of surprise. "You're not bothered by the noise?"

"No—we're outside. By a playground. If we were at the library, then yeah, I'd hate it, but we aren't so no, I'm not." I hope I'm imagining the note of defensiveness in my reply.

"You have a point, I guess."

"Let's just get out of here. It'll be quieter where we are going."

I lead Enzo into the woods. The trees are so sparse at first that the child's cries are still audible, but it fades away when we are a few feet in. The steady chirping of crickets takes over, and it gets darker and darker with each step we take.

The trees have gotten larger, too. Their trunks wide and tall, branches long and bare in places. Leaves crunch underneath our boots as we walk over them. The outdoorsy smell and chemical scent of the bug repellant mask Enzo's cologne quite nicely, which makes me feel better.

This date won't be marred by Damon or our mistake anymore.

We stop in the middle of a small clearing. The dirt floor is littered with dead leaves, and there is a giant log, lying on the ground horizontally, covered in moss. Thankfully, we don't have to dodge hidden vines or half-buried tree roots. I set my bag against our makeshift bench, taking a seat.

"It's definitely more peaceful here," Enzo remarks quietly, joining me.

I nod. "Grams used to take me here on sunny, spring afternoons. I hated it—all of it. The insects, the animals, the mud, but my grandmother loved it. Not one thing is ruined by human interference. That's why she loved it… she was more at home here than in her house."

"And you agree with her now?"

"Yeah…" I answer with a small smile. "I do. My Grams gave the best advice, told the best stories… I didn't understand it all when she was alive, but I'm trying, too, now."

"You loved her very much." One of those Damon-esque statements.

"I did; still do." I lean into his shoulder. "That's why I wanted to take you here. I think you're pretty cool. I like you. And I wanted…" I hesitate. "… you to know that I do. I'm not exactly good at this whole dating thing, so I thought maybe this would be nice…"

"I like you, too, Bonnie." He cups my chin, tilting my face upward.. "I like you a lot. You're… unlike anyone else I've met. That's pretty cool."

"How's that?"

"We just have fun. There isn't any pressure… none of that confusing bullshit my exes did. You're straightforward. You don't play mind games—you're laidback. I've never met a girl like you—even my mom and sister are like that. Everything has to go their way."

I'm silent, unsure of what to say. I don't know if I'm all that easy-going. There are some things that I won't accept, but we haven't been going out long enough to know every little quirk about each other. My lack of reply is becoming awkward and I want him to say something else.

Anything else; but he doesn't

Apparently, Enzo didn't see the need in talking anymore. He kisses me again, differently this time. More intensely. Like he wants more.

More than I'm willing to give.

I've already fucked the majority of my life up; I don't feel like making it more complicated by jumping into a physical relationship with Enzo. I don't feel I know him enough—I've known Damon since childhood, much to my chagrin. He's safe. Or my drunk brain thought he was, but… Enzo wasn't a Mystic Falls resident since birth. I only saw him in passing during school hours until this year.

It's a dumb justification, but it's what I'll go with if he asks why I don't want to go any further than this. Why I want to stick to kissing—why I've never been interested in any other activities beyond tentative over-the-clothes touching.

I pull away, moving his hand off my chest. "I don't think this is a good idea."

"And that is?"

"I don't want to have sex with you," I say a little more bluntly.

"You don't have to be nervous," he says reassuringly. "I know I have more experience than you, but that doesn't matter."

Yeah, he does have more experience than me, but he says it like I'm totally inept, like I've got none. I guess I understand why he assumes so, as he's never seen me with guys that weren't interested in my friends, however I don't like how he makes it seem like I should just take what he says at face value.

The way he implies that performance anxiety is my qualm, that I expect to be measured by the standards someone else set.

"I'm not nervous. I don't want to have sex with you—that's it. We've only been going out for a month. I'm not ready."

"Bonnie," he sighs, and he looks upset. "It'll be fine."

"It will," I say resolutely, with confidence and unyielding conviction. "Because we will go back to talking and laughing and it'll be fun. And we'll revisit the subject of sex later… when we aren't in one of my Gram's favorite places."

"You're being ridiculous!" He grabs at the buttons of my shirt and succeeds in ripping one off.

I shove him off and jump to my feet. "Get off of me."

He's taken aback by my anger. "I'm… sorry. I'll stop."

"Not as sorry as I am," I huff, stomping away from him. "I'm going home now. I need space."

"Bonnie—I didn't mean—"

"But you did," I say without stopping or turning around. If I hurry, I'll be able to get home before dark and before my mom and dad. I can't deal with them or Enzo. I can't deal with anything now. My hormones are so out-of-whack that I'm crying second later, out of anger, regret, and what feels like a bottomless pit of uncertainty.

I guess a few weeks of happiness is too much to ask for.