Disclaimer: I do not own Vampire Diaries, however consider this story mine. Any dialogues not canon from the show as well as any descriptive sentences are the end result of over twenty years of writing. I have poured my heart and soul into every beautiful paragraph, every perfect sentence, every hot and/or romantic scene, and every funny one-liner. To copy this work or any other and claim as one's own, in whole or in part is a criminal offence punishable by ostracism, harassment by my loyal readers, and possibly even dismissal by the MODs. It's not worth it; don't be a thief :)
Chapter 12: Dinner Pt. 1
Elena carefully studies her appearance in the vanity mirror, running her hands over the skirt of her dress to smooth out any wrinkles.
She doesn't know why she's suddenly so anxious; it wasn't like it was the first time they'd ever had dinner together. He'd come over to her house (often uninvited) several times; he'd even been the one doing the cooking, since Elena's famous recipe was putting food from The Mystic Grill into fancy dishes.
Still, it was the first dinner they'd had since she'd given in to her feelings, and she can't help but feel that this one is special.
She glances over her reflection for the fifth time in ten minutes, gently twirling one of her curled strands with a fingertip.
What if she'd been wrong about the hair? Katherine's was curly, after all.
Perhaps she should have left it straight? But then she had worn it exactly like this for Miss Mystic, and he had looked at her in such awe, as if he was seeing her for the first time.
She'd felt like they were the only two people in the room as she met his gaze and he'd taken her hand in his to escort her outside for their dance.
She smiles at the memory, her stomach fluttering with nervous excitement as she realizes that Damon is waiting for her. She almost expects him to call out to her from their room and make some wise-ass comment about being fashionably late or something.
As she opens the door and steps out of the bathroom, she frowns in confusion; he isn't there. It's then that she notices the small trail of red rose petals leading to the bed, and the single red rose strategically placed over a folded white sheet of paper.
Elena smiles softly as she picks it up and places the rose into the vase on the nightstand, filled with the rest of the flowers Damon had picked up for her while she was in the shower.
She'd had her suspicions before that he was a closet romantic, but having him hand her a single rose at the Lockwood Manor was just a small token of affection in comparison to this.
This was undeniable proof that she was more than just a plaything or a way to piss off Stefan.
Damon Salvatore loves her, and though he hasn't said it, actions definitely speak louder than words. She unfolds the note and a soft blush rises to her cheeks.
Meet me in the lobby. Take the stairs.
Her heart feels like it's about to leap out of her chest as she realizes the significance of him wanting her to take the stairs.
She grabs her blue wrap and silver clutch off the chair, checking her hair and makeup one last time in the full-length mirror before slipping into the matching satin heels and making her way to the door.
She can barely contain her excitement, almost running to the stairs before she remembers that running in high heels isn't the greatest idea.
She forces herself to walk at a normal pace, making her way down the corridor and finally arriving at the staircase leading into the lobby.
It isn't nearly as grand as the one at the Lockwood Manor, but Elena hardly notices such petty details when she locks eyes with the handsome man waiting for her down below.
He's breathtaking, wearing almost the exact suit he'd worn that day.
Only his tie is different; a dark royal blue that complements her dress and brings out the color in his eyes. Somehow she resists the urge to ogle him, knowing that it will only feed his already oversized ego.
She smiles warmly as she makes her way down the stairs, allowing him to take her hand the second she gets to the bottom step. His eyes meet hers, glittering with that same emotion she'd seen in them ever since she'd let her guard down around him and allowed him a glimpse of her true feelings.
Her breath catches in her throat when he lifts her hand to his lips, brushing over it tenderly in a chaste kiss.
"May I escort you to dinner, Miss Gilbert?" Damon asks, sounding like a perfect 19th-century gentleman.
The mischievous light in his eyes and the trace of his usual cocky grin gives him away, but Elena has the sneaking suspicion that he's always been like that, even when he was human.
Deciding to play along, at least for the moment, Elena smiles demurely at him and attempts a curtsey; not an easy task while wearing three-inch heels.
"I would be honored, Mr. Salvatore," she replies in an airy voice.
Damon attempts to hide his amusement, but Elena catches the look in his eyes.
"What?" she asks.
He shrugs. "Nothing," he says. "I was just remembering something."
Elena eyes him suspiciously, wondering if he had been thinking about his past; or more accurately, his past with Katherine.
"Did I sound like her just now?" she asks, feeling a little uncomfortable.
Damon furrows his brow in confusion.
"Sound like who?" he asks, his mind on a completely different topic entirely.
"Katherine," Elena says, trying to sound indifferent but failing horribly. She can't hide the jealousy from her voice.
He frowns.
"You need to stop that," he tells her seriously, grasping her hand firmly in his as he pulls her closer.
"Stop what?" she asks.
"Why do you always assume that I'm thinking about Katherine when I look at you?" he asks, spitting the name of his ex lover out as if it left a bitter taste in his mouth.
Elena shrugs. "Maybe because we're practically twins and you two have a history?"
"Stefan had a history with her too," Damon points out. "Do you think he thought of her when he was with you?"
She immediately darts her eyes away from him, looking toward the door, the front desk, anywhere but at him. Damon has his answer, as well as another reason to kick Stefan's ass the next time he saw him.
He isn't about to pour anymore salt into the wound.
His hand moves up to touch her cheek, turning her head back to look at him.
She knows he isn't compelling her, regardless of the fact that she's not wearing her necklace anymore.
Still, he has her complete attention as he speaks.
"I want you to listen to me very carefully, Elena."
His eyes practically burn into hers, as if he's trying to sear the message into her brain
"You're not her. You'll never be her, and I don't want you to be. She's a selfish, spoiled, manipulative bitch incapable of loving anyone but herself."
Elena has never wanted to throw her arms around him and kiss him senseless as much as she does at this moment.
He said everything with such conviction; whenever Stefan had made speeches like that the words had sounded so hollow, but Damon makes her believe them. It was just more evidence that she'd been with the wrong brother from the very beginning.
"And for the record," he adds, wanting to make sure there's no more doubt in her mind as to who he really wants, "I wasn't thinking about her just now; I was thinking about you in the Founder's Day dress and how much more fun you would have been to escort to all those boring social functions when I was human. The girls I was expected to entertain back then certainly didn't have your fire, or your passion."
His eyes rake over her appreciatively, his gaze lingering on her chest and the ample cleavage that the dress created.
He licks his lips, the cocky grin back on his face.
"Not to mention that none of those girls would have allowed me to do half the scandalous things I do to you,"
"And what makes you think I would have been any different?" she asks, annoyed that he would be so presumptuous.
"Because you can't resist me," he says confidently.
"Don't be so sure about that," Elena replies, challenging him with her eyes.
"Oh no?" Damon asks.
Without warning he suddenly slips his arm around her waist and pulls her flush against him. She squeals in protest, pressing her hands against his chest in an attempt to push him away.
"Damon, we're in public!" she hisses.
"We were also in public earlier today in that dressing room," he reminds her.
Before she can stop him his hand slips under her skirt to tickle the inside of her thigh.
She gasps, her legs almost giving out when he zeroes in on her most sensitive spot.
"Why Miss Elena, it appears you have forgotten something," he whispers huskily in her ear, pretending to be scandalized even as he continues to brush his fingertips over her bare skin.
"Only because someone happened to steal them while I was in the shower," she counters, glaring accusingly at him.
Damon grins, slipping his index finger teasingly between her legs.
"I decided you wouldn't need them tonight," he purrs seductively.
Just as she's starting to give in to his touch, he pulls his hand away.
"Your resistance to my charms is delicious," he says, enjoying his small victory by licking his fingers clean and deliberately looking at her with a wicked grin.
Elena rolls her eyes and smacks him playfully; realizing that he deliberately seduced her to prove a point.
"You're such an ass."
Damon smirks. "Yeah, but I'm a sexy ass."
"Are we going to dinner or did I get all dressed up for nothing?"
Damon's eyes immediately fall upon her chest again, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.
"Well I wouldn't say it was for nothing," he replies, wiggling his eyebrows at her suggestively. "You do look good enough to eat right now…and I'm not talking about your blood."
"Damon," she says warningly. While his idea definitely has a certain appeal, she's starving at the moment; one cannot live on sex alone, unfortunately.
"I'm just teasing you, Elena," he says, linking his arm with hers. "I'm not going to let perfectly good reservations go to waste."
She eyes him suspiciously.
"Just where exactly are you taking me that we'd require reservations?" she asks him, feeling uneasy again.
It wasn't that she didn't like Damon spending what had to be a lot of money on her, she just wasn't used to it. She'd always paid for herself on dates with Matt, and though Stefan often paid for her, they rarely went anywhere other than Mystic Grill or various parties and town events.
"It's a surprise," he says simply, leading her toward the doors of the hotel and out into the cool evening air.