~25~

~Chapter Twenty-Five~

You say that you're stuck in a pale blue dream
And your tears feel hot on my bedsheets
Drape your arms around me and softly say
Can we dance upon the tables again?

~Bat for Lashes, Laura~

I toy with a loose thread on one of the blankets Grams had knitted before she passed away. It had been one of the few projects she had completed. The only other one had been a scarf she made for me one Christmas. My mother placed it on our couch right after she cleaned out her house. If I close my eyes and take a deep breath, I can almost smell the Bergamot oil scent that used to overtake her home.

I can pretend I'm at her house, drinking tea and chatting about everything that happened over the day.

When I open my eyes, Damon is staring at me strangely. "Are you okay?"

"Just thinking about Grams," I explain. "You know, she was good at the tough-yet-unconditional love thing—unlike my dad."

"Did your dad even like your grandmother?"

"He thought she was batty, but he loved her. They didn't have the stereotypical in-law relationship if that's what you're asking."

He nods and leans against the back of the sofa. We are waiting for my parents to join us in the living room. And for Damon's father to arrive. When I had asked my mom if the five of us could have a formal discussion about the matter, she gladly agreed. I think she was just relieved that Damon and I were making headway on this whole "adulting" thing. My dad's response had been more of a begrudging affirmative, but that's still more than we can say for Damon's only parental figure, who didn't even want to come when his son invited him. It was only after Damon had phoned me up and I made the request, that Giuseppe agreed to it.

Mom enters the room first, followed by my father, who has his arms crossed over his chest. I believe he's trying to intimidate Damon. Out of the corner of my eye, I see him sit up ramrod straight. Upon closer inspection, though, he doesn't appear frightened. Damon is unflappable. I don't know how well this will bode for our talk, but at least one of us isn't drowning in a sea of uncertainty and shame.

As if they had it planned to the very second, the doorbell chimes, and I know Mr. Salvatore is here. I excuse myself, let him in, and bring him into the living room.

He takes a seat on the armchair across from Damon, only sparing a glance in his direction.

Giuseppe's attention is on my mom and dad. He shakes each of their hands. "I'm Giuseppe. Your daughter is wonderful. I'm sorry Damon has acted so carelessly. It's a bad habit of his."

"Apparently it's one of Bonnie's, too," Dad says gruffly.

I clear my throat—a reminder that the subjects they are discussing are right in front of them.

Mom cuts in. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise." The blue-eyed man says with a nod.

"What is it you want to discuss, Bonnie Shelia?" I don't know how Dad manages to make my first and middle name sound like swear words, but he does.

"Our plan," I say. I grab Damon's hand. I hope it solidifies the fact that we are a united front.

Dad's eyes flicker to our intertwined fingers and then back up to me. "Oh, so you've finally come up with something. It's only four and a half months in."

Mr. Salvatore raises his eyebrows. "I wasn't aware that this isn't that recent of a development."

"Don't feel too left out. We only found out because someone left her stuff out for us to see."

"Rudy!" My mother says sharply. "You promised me you would hear them out! Without the extra commentary."

My father's expression softens at Mom's interjection.

I use his moment of silence to continue talking. "I figured out what to do about college." I gulp. This is the hard part. "I'm not going to continue applying to the schools you guys suggested. I want to go to Whitmore. If I keep my grades up and join a team, I could probably get a full ride. Oh, and I'm not going to do the whole biophysics major. I want to major in anthropology. It's not that big of a jump—it's still a science-based program."

My father's mouth is agape, my mother looks confused, Damon's dad leans back into the chair, fingers laced together, considering my plan seriously.

"… you want to give up a successful future for Damon?" he says after a moment.

"No. Not exactly. It's what I've always wanted to do. I just didn't have the guts to say anything before."

"The guts?" My father repeats, aghast.

"Yes, the guts. I had been so scared of disappointing you and Mom, that I was just going to go along with what you wanted. But… since I've done that now, I might as well go all the way with it."

"I didn't work my ass off for you turn around and screw everything up," Dad snaps.

"Neither did I," I struggle to keep my voice steady. "And I'm not going to. I'm researching the cost of utilizing the on-site childcare center."

Rudy snorts derisively. "That makes everything just fine, then, doesn't it?"

"No, but I'm never going to stop trying to make things that way."

"And his plan?"

Giuseppe shifts his body forward. "Yes. I'd love to hear that."

"I want to go into the Army," Damon says, looking straight at my dad.

"That's a lot of work, kid." I've never heard Dad sound so condescending. "Are you sure you can handle that?"

"Yes." And after a beat, "It's what I was going to do originally."

"And you just want to leave my daughter here to do everything by herself?"

"No," Damon replies evenly. "I don't. I do want to make something of myself, though. And this is how I want to do it. I plan on taking my responsibilities seriously, sir."

I jump in before Dad has a chance to answer. "We're asking you guys for support. We want you to know we're taking things very seriously."

It feels odd to be asking—no, begging—for my parent's approval. I haven't needed to ask them for much of anything for a long time. I've stuck to the status quo, and they stopped assuming I needed their reassurance. And now, the one time I'm in desperate need of it; it feels like I'm requesting something impossible.

Mom appears torn. She turns to my father and then to Damon and then to me. "What kind of support are you looking for, Bonnie Bear?"

"Your understanding… I want you to accept what I want to do with my life."

"I just don't get why we're hearing about Whitmore now… you've never mentioned it. Not once."

Dad sighs. It's the sound of someone frustrated, at the end of their rope. I feel guilty. I'm putting them in a very tough spot. "I don't think she's talking about her education, Abby."

"Well… not really." I don't break eye contact with my mother. It's much easier to address her. "I'm probably going to have to look for someplace to stay closer to the school."

"And you're asking for us to pay for it," Dad states flatly.

"No, I've got money saved… I'll have to work for it… get a part-time job. I know all that. I'm saying I don't need your money. I just need you."

Another disgruntled noise from Dad. I can almost see the conflicting feelings jump around his brain. Rumor around town, even before all of the turbulence, was that Giuseppe Salvatore made Damon sleep in the basement and fed him through a crack in the door. Now, this is a bit dramatic, untrue, but my parents look like I've lumped them in with the man sitting next to them.

Once again, I feel like a small child. Asking for much more than they're willing to give.

"Well, why wouldn't you ask for permission to stay here?" Mom sounds hurt.

"I didn't think Dad wanted me around," I answer. I'm shocked at how steady my voice sounds. "He can barely look at me. I don't think it will get any better when there is a screaming baby around."

"I'm not doing a happy dance, Bonnie. You should look into adoption—if you two can't act like grownups, then you are up shit's creek without a paddle. And I don't want to see your dreams go down the toilet. Neither would your grandmother. You need to be realistic."

"Yes. I did consider it." Granted, I didn't think too long or hard about it, but he doesn't need to know that. "I don't want to do that—I can't."

"Life is full of things we don't want, Bonnie."

"Dad… please? I know I can do this. Let me show you. Give me a chance to prove you wrong."

"I hope so because after this there are no more second chances." When he stands up to go, there's a note of finality in the air.

Mom looks at me sympathetically. "I need to think about all this, honey. And Damon, my brother is in the Army— I'll give you his contact info. He can give you advice."

"Thank you,"

She nods. "Giuseppe, would you like to join my husband and me for coffee? I think we're all in the same boat here."

"Of course, that sounds lovely."

We are alone once again. I realize I haven't let go of Damon's hand yet.

"We can do this," I state confidently. I don't see any doubt on his face. I love being right, but I've never felt so desperate to be in my entire life.

I think I'm falling in love with Damon Salvatore.

It's a realization that has snuck up on me.

The notion slips into my thoughts when I'm almost asleep, flows into my dreams, stays with me long after I've awakened. It occurs to me when I find myself watching him as he talks, the way my body feels like a live wire when he touches me.

I can't escape it.

I wanted to, the first few times it happened because it scared me. I didn't want to end up with a broken heart. Damon has a talent for doing that (and Enzo already did a number on it), but it never dissipated.

So, I've been more accepting of it. Besides, I have a few other problems I should spend more time trying to resolve.

Like how it's becoming obvious that the rumors are true.

We've been in an exclusive relationship for a few months now and it's become apparent to everyone in Mystic Falls that something is up. I can no longer hide beneath large shirts and baggy sweatpants. I've become a sideshow attraction. If I thought the stares a month ago were bad; then I had been sorely mistaken.

The whispers have become louder and I no longer have to guess what is being said about me—people are practically shouting at me as I pass them. I have neither confirmed nor denied the theories, but I don't need to—everyone can see it. Also, the ups and downs of my relationship with Damon make for a juicy story—add to that an unplanned pregnancy in our final year in high school and that's all anyone can talk about. Even the teachers seem to be getting some mileage out of all the gossip. Well, most of them. Mr. Saltzman reminded his co-workers how juvenile they sounded when he realized I overheard two of my AP teachers talking about what a shame my life has become.

I try to push my negative thoughts away as I help Damon on his enlistment to-do list. in his bedroom, taking advantage of the fact that our parents are all at work this weekend. Mr. Salvatore usually has Saturday off, but we lucked out and have the spacious house practically to ourselves.

"Okay," he announces. "Time for a break."

"You've only downloaded one of the forms."

"Yeah, and it took forever."

"Twenty minutes of that was just you being distracted on the internet."

"So?"

"Fine, take a break." I check off the steps he's completed in my notebook and shut it.

"I thought you'd see it my way." He joins me on the bed.

"Hey, tell your dad what a good job I'm doing. I want to get in his good graces."

"My dad hates you," I respond flatly.

His expression is over-confident. "I'll win him over—I won you over, didn't I?"

"You did," I admit uncertainly. "But my father is another story. You got his teenage daughter pregnant."

"You make it sound like a bad thing," he laughs, though that stops abruptly when he sees the look on my face. "Bonnie, I solemnly swear that I am taking this seriously. I'm trying to come up with something that will prove to you that I'm going to do the best I possibly can."

"… I know, I guess I'm just nervous. And… you're… doing fine" I cover my eyes with my hands.

"Bon, you're rambling again."

I peek at him through space in my fingers. "It's just a lot, Damon. I'm… never mind."

"Come on, Bon Bon. Use your big girl words."

I glare at him and take a deep breath. I hate having to voice these particular feelings, though this emotion has been eating away at me even when it isn't front and center. "I'm scared."

"The Great Bonnie Bennett is afraid?" He lays down next to me, bringing me into his arms.

"You're not?"

"Eh. Maybe a little. But like I said, I don't want to waste time on maybes. It's… weird. I feel weird."

"This is weird," I agree, removing my hands from my face. "But not the bad kind of weird I thought it was going to be. I don't understand how you're not scared shitless, though. How do you manage that?"

"I was angry at first," Damon says. "I was mad that I was going to have to give up having fun because the head of the Responsibility Police was going to make me man up—and then you made me think otherwise."

"I didn't know I had that much power over you."

"I didn't know either," says Damon.

And then we are lying nose to nose. Our silence hangs in the air. It's not tense or uncomfortable—it just feels good. Calming. I snuggle closer to him. He responds by wrapping both of his arms around me. I try to be more like him, more laid-back and less stressed. Somehow, it's easier to calm down when I'm with Damon. Sure, it only lasts for a little while, but it's nice to get a break from myself.

"Can I kiss you?" Damon asks quietly.

I tilt my head up. "Wow, you're being gentlemanly. I'm impressed."

"I guess you're a good influence."

"You can kiss me," I say softly.

So, he does. And it's nice, sweet, in a way I wasn't expecting. It's akin to the pecks on the cheek he would give me at school. I'm overwhelmed by the feeling of wanting more. I press my lips against his harder, my fingers tangling in his hair. I hook my leg around his waist. When we break apart, he is grinning like a cat who ate the canary.

"I must be a very bad influence on you, Bennett."

"Things aren't all good or bad, Salvatore, you taught me that."

"I sound very wise," he says loftily.

"For once," I snort. "Now, why are your clothes still on?"

"Pinch me. Is Bonnie Bennett propositioning me?" He feigns shock.

I make a move to stand up. "If you don't want to, that's fine, too."

"I didn't say that." Damon protests. "I'd be more than happy to be naked in front of you. I'm just surprised that you brought it up."

I back up and begin pulling my arm out of the sleeve of my shirt. I'm giddy. I can't get out of my clothes fast enough. I don't know what has come over me, my life is changing so much that I can barely keep up. I feel Damon's eyes on me as I'm undressing. Already, this is so much different than before. And when I turn around and look at him, he meets my eyes, and then the anxiety hits. What if this is a bad idea? I certainly don't look the same as I did months ago… and then I look at his facial expression. He doesn't look repulsed or even cocky. He appears…mesmerized. That takes some of the nerves away.

He takes his shirt off and I find myself staring at him in a very similar way. It occurs to me that I don't know what I should do next. The last time I found myself in this situation my inhibitions had flown out the window. Thankfully, Damon makes the first move. He closes the space between us, and I happily let him take the lead.

I'm surprised at how comfortable I feel at this moment. But before I surrender myself to Damon completely, I wonder how long I will be able to keep all my worries at bay.