"Soooo, how did last night go? After that Damon-guy showed up," I smoothly inquired, trailing the top of the glass placed on the table in front of me.
"It went…fine," my sister replied with a shrug from across the table of the booth we'd chosen at the Grill; a place I'd missed more than I realized, which had become clear to me the moment I'd sat my foot inside it a few hours ago.
Since then, sitting and waiting for my sister with a drink in hand as I eyed the familiar crowd, even tightly greeting some of my old high school classmates apparently still hanging around town, I'd strangely enough felt more and more oddly at home at the place. But maybe it was just the alcohol lined up behind the bar counter that gave me the homey feel.
"Although he was a little too flirty for my taste," Elena added. With the look he'd given her last night, I couldn't help but agree that that was a problem.
"He's still hot though," I stated, waiting for her reaction. As I took a sip from my drink, she raised a questioning brow at me. "What? Do you deny it?" I questioned. At least that's what I had been trying to do last night, but failed miserably. Even though simply facing the facts, I wasn't claiming it made me like him. The good looks and intense eyes rather made me think the opposite, which I made sure to be known to my sister. "I didn't say I liked him," I voiced with a scowl. "Far from it, actually."
"Good. Then we agree," Elena acknowledged with a nod.
"Maybe we we can agree on something else as well," I began, resting my forearms on the table as I leaned a bit closer. "Because I'm not a big fan of him hanging around Caroline, either."
"I know," Elena sighed, sinking back into her seat. "But even if Caroline may seem a bit childish at times," – she certainly did in my eyes, given that she was six years younger than me – "she can still take care of herself." The certainty to my sister's voice left no room for argument, but I went on anyway.
"Either way, I'm gonna keep an eye on how that develops," I stated, taking a sip from my drink. The clear alcohol burned pleasantly as it slid its way down my throat, easing the intense emotion my sister's next inquiry brought out.
"So you're really staying, then?" she checked, carefully. The vulnerability in her big, brown eyes was hard to miss as I gazed into them, and I couldn't do much else than nod.
"Yeah," I nodded carefully, my words quiet. "That's the plan."
"I'm glad," Elena beamed. Quickly, she shook her head and wiped the corner of her eye. "Sorry, I just… I can't believe it."
"It's okay," I assured, reaching to squeeze her hand faintly. Again, the oddness of the gentle gesture washed over me, but I forced myself to remain in it. As I was sticking around, I didn't have much else of a choice than to get used to it.
"Anyway," Elena began, gathering herself with a breath. "Back to the topic: Damon doesn't seem like a guy that would hurt her, if that's what you're worried about."
Worried was pushing it. But concerned, yes. And sadly I didn't share my sister's impression – who always saw and believed in the good in people – of the male I'd briefly met. From what little I had gathered, he was definitely hiding something.; my intent was to find out what. As well as getting more acquainted with this hometown of mine.
"Hm," I merely muttered, taking yet another mouthful of my drink to gulp down. When I noticed the disapproving look that flashed over Elena's face, I sat a questioning frown in place as I put down my glass on the table with a thud. "What?"
"Nothing," she shook it off with. I, however, didn't drop the matter so easily. "It's just…" Elena began with a sigh. "Isn't it a little early to be drinking already?"
"I'm 23," I reminded. "Besides, it's never too early." Top notch role model of the year here, really. Especially given my added smirk.
"I meant for the day," Elena said with another sigh. "But you know what, never mind." With a shake of her head, she started to get up, sliding her way out of the booth. "I need to go make some preparations for the Founder's Party. Carol Lockwood wants some stuff Mom promised to borrow her, way back when." As if remembering my so recent return back here, she halted her movement. "You're coming to it, the party, right?" she questioned, the normally kind eyes attempting to pierce through me in an as threatening way as possible, which honestly wasn't very intimidating at all.
"Of course," I nonetheless answered with a reassuring smile, even if my will to attend a Founder's thing was pretty darn far down on the list of things I got excited about doing. But my sister didn't need to know that. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."
"Great!" Elena exclaimed, hugging me so quickly I barely had time to hide my tensing in surprise, before she headed out of the Mystic Grill with a wave over her shoulder.
Once I was sure she was really gone, out of the limited sight one got from the windows of the venue, I followed suit with slipping out of the booth, but instead made my way for the bar. There, a dark-haired figure dressed in a black leather jacket and jeans had been sitting for quite some time now. It was an as perfect opportunity as ever to find out what I wanted to know.
"Vodka," I told the bartender, flashing him a charming smile. He didn't even bother asking for my ID, even though I knew I looked way younger than my 23 years. During the whole time I waited for my drink, I felt the intense eyes glued to my side. "You know, it's rude to stare," I said once the bartender had handed me my glass filled with the familiar, see-through liquid.
"Sorry. But I'm just not used to someone so… young liking something so strong," Damon explained, and the way he emphasized my age had me glancing over at him and his askew smirk.
"It's the only thing that tastes anything these days," I mumbled, taking a sip. Years and years of drowning my emotions in alcohol had ended with that result. "But it's always fun to drink cocky people under the table," I added. Men, mainly, actually. Shocking them with my high tolerance was a major plus side in my eyes; and any future talk about liver damage from my sister was something I could live with. However, something I couldn't stand was how Damon still smiled at me from out of the corner of my eye.
Finally, I turned to look straight at him, and immediately agreed with my previous statement: he was hot. Letting my eyes freely wander over his appearance, this was only further confirmed. Dark, ruffled hair, perfect jawline, undoubtedly a perfect body underneath all that black clothing…
Lastly, I met those blue eyes, who were still looking right at me. Or actually, they were oddly focused on my bracelet. It was an unassuming little thing made of silver that had been gifted to me from my mother on my fifteenth birthday. Back then, she had made me promise I would always wear it, but when I'd asked why it was so darn important, she'd simply told me that it would always protect me. A weird enough statement as it was, but since then I'd learnt a lot more strange things, to now know it was a wish she had good reason for wanting me to honor as much as I could; and maybe even more.
Still feeling Damon watching me, I looked up from my fingers playing with one of the flat pendants on the jewelry strapped around my wrist to meet his gaze. It seemed as if he was trying to decide on something, peering back at me with an unreadable spark to his eyes.
"You're a bit of a mystery, you know," Damon suddenly said. Quickly, I had my answer lined up.
"You took the words right of my mouth," I responded with a tight smile. Damon's smile, or rather smirk, lacked the same tightness. Instead, he seemed to be enjoying this a little too much; and maybe for all the wrong reasons.
"It's just," he began easily, "that I don't remember Elena ever mentioning she had an older sister." According to Stefan last night, that wasn't true.
With a frown, I replied, "And I didn't know you talked so much with my sister."
"Well, after all, she is my brother's girlfriend. It would be pretty rude of me to ignore her, despite of my personal feelings towards Stefan." I raised my brows, that was more information out of him than I'd ever hoped for. A picture of the relationship between the two brothers was slowly but surely starting to take form. "But now you're changing the subject," Damon tsked, giving me a jokingly accusing look. Automatically, I let out a chuckle as my brain conjured up an answer.
"Well, let's just say that I've put some distance between me and my family during the past couple of years," I decided to generously give him in return.
"Is that so?" He raised an interested brow, fishing for more.
There was a fine line to walk when deciding how much I would give him, but I had been doing this for years now.
"You know, the oldest." I shrugged with very aware nonchalance. "First born, first to go."
"I know what you mean." Damon nodded, a small yet tense smirk coating his lips. My silence, seemingly patient but in reality far from it, had him adding, "Rebelliousness seems to be a recurring trait, I've noticed." Ah, right; he was the eldest too. But speaking of which…
"Tell me about it." I shook my head with a chuckle. "You'd be surprised how well-acquainted I am with the local station here." A place I'd spent the majority of my high school years at, waiting for my parents to come and pick me up whilst chit-chatting with either Caroline's mom Sheriff Forbes or one of her deputies. Truthfully, I'd actually gotten rather close to all of them during my time spent there; maybe a swingby was about time.
"Somehow, I'm not," Damon replied, and to his somewhat amused tone I flashed a teasing grin.
"You find me so predictable?"
"There's a certain aura you learn to know after a dec…" He paused, rephrasing whatever had gotten stuck in his throat, with a smile. "After a few years. Even recognize it, too."
"Oh?" I raised my brows, a little entertained. "Care to take a guess what got me there, then?" His sensual, sly smirk was answer enough.
"Oh, I wouldn't dare," he only chuckled. And with every right. But to ease any colorful and perhaps scandalous imaginings; back then, my usual reasons for being at the police station was either due to getting caught drinking underaged or stealing cars and driving them a little too recklessly. Or a few other things as well, but those are stories I'd rather save…
"At least you're smart," I slid back with a tone to match his.
"I think I know how those visits might have ended, though," Damon commented, eyeing my reaction with interest. "Not too happy folks?"
"No, not really," I confirmed.
Once my parents had picked me up, I would receive the usual scolding from them; one that I, for the record, had unintentionally memorized by now. But it was still a useless one.
"There are some things parents never understand," Damon spoke, lowly, and for a moment he seemed to be far, far away into his mind and memories. Whatever he had experienced in his distant childhood, the basics seemed to apply to my own as well.
My sweet parents without faults had never understood neither me or my reckless ways. They had always – at least on the surface – been the perfect couple with the perfect family, always obeying the law. Maybe that was partly what had driven me to do all those things in the first place. Maybe I had been so sick of watching little innocent Jeremy and sweet Elena – both set on paths of becoming either a good, protective and sweet boy or one of those annoying, preppy cheerleaders – that I had, naturally, rebelled.
And because of it, my grades hadn't been too fantastic when I started my senior year. In fact, they couldn't have been much worse. But right around the same time, I realized that if I ever wanted to get out of this small, boring dump I called my home, then college was pretty much my only escape; or at least the only one my parents would allow me to take.
"Choices, for one," I commented, snapping Damon out of his memory.
"Speaking from experience?" he checked. This time, the smirk I gave him actually wasn't forced.
"I'll tell if you do."
Chuckling, he shifted in his seat to face me more properly. "My father was never one to understand decent behavior. Not towards me, not towards Stefan, and definitely not towards our mother."
"Spotless front, dark and twisted inside," I stated, referring to more than just the man and the family as something in my heart tightened a bit.
Damon nodded. "And when it came to choices about the future, he always knew just how he wanted it for us. Both when it came to career and to love." Flashing a look over me – one I was used to getting from all crowds at the more or less questionable places I'd visited – he waited for me to deliver an answer in exchange for that generosity.
"Well, parents and future is something I know a thing or two about," I gave. "Any possible paths after school weren't looking too bright for me when senior year rolled around."
"Really? With all your well-spent time?" Even if he hadn't again added that already signature smirk, I would've heard the flirting from a mile away.
"Hm," I let out, smiling quickly and tensely. "Sadly, no. My grades were in need of a major upswing."
"And here you sit now." Damon nodded at my drink, barely an inch from my fingertips. "Not doing too badly," he remarked with another smirk.
"I picked myself up." Studied hard and started to get good grades. Before I'd known it, things had actually began looking better. And once I'd put all that actual effort into all school-related things, my mom had too become so involved in the whole thing, as well as excited, that the choosing of a college – a distant plan – had suddenly been turned into a closeby reality. Even sooner, I'd been lined up for a study program of psychology combined with – believe it or not – criminology at a university in New York. "Worked my way through college."
The combination might seem like an odd choice, yes – considering my knack for committing crimes and disobeying authorities – but by then an ulterior motive had arisen. One I wasn't sharing with Damon; one involving a need to ease a constant feeling I'd always had of being so… incomplete. For a long time, I'd known the reason to it, known the truth that I was, in fact, actually adopted. But to ease that feeling, I had thought that knowing my true origins – who my real parents were – was the key, and had so badly wanted to find out everything there was to know about both them as well as how and why I'd ended up in Mystic Falls.
So, from the moment a time of being away from my mom and dad and to freely go where I pleased and talk to whoever I wanted had been an attainable future, I gathered enough of the bits and pieces I'd picked up about my biological parents over the years. After collecting these scraps one thing had become utterly clear: whoever they were, during the time of my birth they'd both been so deep into some kind of government work that having a child just wasn't an option suitable for their lives.
Thus, I'd ended up in Mystic Falls, with a cool aunt who inspired the choosing of my other orientation in college.
Jenna, more of a friend than a relative, really, and all her talks of psychological theories and exciting stories she studied and read about at Whitmore College – unlike New York not that far away from Mystic Falls – during family dinners was what decided that particular choice. It brought us even closer together, having something to chat and bond over. But that lovely little scenario didn't last very long, as I soon realized college really wasn't something for me. Which was something I did inform Damon of:
"At least I did the college for a while."
"The lifestyle wasn't working out for you?" He had no idea how right he was. Or maybe he did, given the knowing smirk and info I'd shared earlier.
The campus and classes – rules and demands stifling my freedom – had only lasted for about a year before I got kicked out for skipping too many classes, as well as: "My overall negative attitude towards the school's valued spirit becoming a problem for my environment and classmates." Pfft.
But instead of going back home with my tail between my legs, I'd chosen to stay in the busy city that never slept, with determination and relentless stubbornness getting myself a job at a snobby bar.
Eventually, however, with my parents still breathing down my neck about an education, I presented to them an opportunity to study abroad in England. Something they happily agreed to! As long as I swore to stay out of trouble, of course.
Were the schools better in England? Nope! But it was a lot harder for them to keep track of me there, which was one of my main reason for wanting to go in the first place. The other one was one I firmly kept secret from my family. Thanks to the contacts I'd made during that brief college time, I had gotten a lead on my biological parents; one I was hellbent on following.
Censoring my story to fit the impression I wished to give Damon, I spread out the tales of douchey college personal, snobby wine lovers, and finally opportunities across the vast ocean for him to chew down. In return, I got more of that controlling father, some kind of service within military – but with dodgy details regarding whatever crisis or war Damon had assisted in – as well as a few more hints at a once better relationship with his younger brother. Whatever had broken them apart, however, remained a mystery. For now.
Even if I'd had to offer up some laced truths for him, I felt what I'd gotten in return to be worth it. Now, he knew we had more in common; family issues to go around. Always a start.
"So, what about now?" I asked, finishing my since long now untouched drink to give the bartender a nod. Instantly, he refilled my empty glass.
"Well, both parents are dead and gone." The way he said it, lacking any type of straining to his voice, made me just keep listening; I knew I had quickly grown tired of the endless words of condolences whenever the matter came up. But we had even more in common, then. "With what little is left of the family," Damon's voice turned a bit bitter, "contacts exist, but they are…rare."
"Hm, that's too bad." I shrugged, sipping on the strong alcohol as I sorted the new pieces of info into place amongst all the others I'd picked up during our talk so far. "But don't I know it…" I ignored the sidelong look I got, twirling the glass around with my finger. Then, abruptly, I tilted my head back to finish the entire thing in one gulp, slamming the empty glass down onto the bar with a sharp thud. "Alright, enough chit-chat," I declared, catching his gaze to hold it. "I think you should let Caroline down easy and move on," I instructed, firmly and without a single show of backing down.
"Excuse me?" Damon raised his brows, a little stunned by the rapid turn of tone, but hiding it with an amused look and a chuckle not that far away.
"You heard me." I'd made my voice cold and hard, using it to emphasize my words. "She's young, and nice. And so is Elena. So for your own good, I suggest you bugger off before you do anything to jeopardize that. Because if either of them would be hurt," – I leaned closer, threateningly – "then you would find yourself having to deal with the not so charming side of me."
To his favor, Damon admittedly actually kept his cool quite well. However, I could still clearly see that he really didn't like being threatened by some cocky, young woman; especially judging by the way a muscle in his jaw was twitching. But at least I'd made myself perfectly clear: I wasn't going to tiptoe around and pretend as if I didn't see what he was up to. He wanted some sort of revenge on Stefan, and he was undoubtedly planning on somehow using both Caroline and my sister for it. Frankly, neither was going to happen on my watch.
"Careful, Parker," Damon spoke lowly. "As you might have guessed…" He leaned forward, closer. "I'm not really a nice guy who does what he's told." At the sudden closeness, this time not controlled by me, even in the midst of my cold fury fueling my threats, my damn heart reacted by picking up a quicker beat. If I hadn't been sure of it before, I was without a shadow of a doubt certain that I definitely didn't like this guy, hot or not.
As if Damon had noticed this reaction, and my further fury for it as well, he looked even more smug than what I'd already come to call 'usual' for him. Quickly, he reached to grab a loose thread from my ripped jeans, and as his fingertips gracing my exposed skin had a pulse of electricity shooting through my body. With dangerous precision, Damon ripped out the thread, flashing me a satisfied smirk before drawing back.
At that, my walls around my anger suddenly evaporated to have the emotion fill every inch my body. Without warning, I shot up from my bar stool. As I stroked past him, leaning in so, so close, inches away from his – still, sadly – gorgeous face, I hissed:
"You should remember the same thing about me."
Smugly, I noted the baffled look on his face at this response, but didn't spare it more than a content smirk of my own before I turned around and made my dramatic exit from the bar.