AN: Thanks for the reviews, guys! Happy reading! ;)

"NO! NO! NO!" For the thirtieth time that day, Bonnie repeated the word with much feeling, "NO!" Her reflection was a mask of pestilence and fatal hurricanes—clearly, her conviction was off the charts. Then, she mused, maybe I should try a different approach.

The stern visage of her face melted into soft emotion, caught between a bittersweet goodbye and an ounce of longing. Her green orbs widened as she played the damsel in distress part, the victim of romance and tragic love. "Look, Damon," she whispered, her voice husky and a bit sleepy. "I just can't be with you, ok?" Biting her lower lip, she shifted her gaze from the mirror, as if she had been staring at a nostalgic downpour, and the sadness had become too much that she just had to look away. "I'm not—I'm not the one you want. I'm not the one for you."

Hearing her say those words made a laugh tickle her belly, and at the same time, a painful kind of twist inside her ribcage.

No, no. Try another one.

Try reality.

"NO!" Bonnie exclaimed, glancing back at the mirror, the face of a young but trial-tested witch glaring back at her. "You are not the one for me, Damon. You are not the one!"

The light bulbs in her room began to flicker, but before her house suffered another emotionally-charged black out, her phone lit up. Immediately feeling the sensation of annoyance dancing through her, Bonnie knew it was him.

This man—no, this vampire, Bonnie thought scornfully, was such an enigma. She wanted to burn her phone into a crisp when she read his message.

Little witch. Left Bolognese at your doorstep.

Right after she read the message, another one came in.

P.S. How do you know I'm not the one for you?

Bonnie screeched in annoyance, the sound coming out as a little growl and a suppressed squeal. What was she doing again before she was practicing how to reject Damon? Oh yes, mentally making a check list as to WHY Damon wasn't the marrying type, why he was a walking disaster waiting to happen.

Grabbing a pen and a page from her memo pad supposedly for her out-of-the-blue spells, she wrote down quite messily: 1) Damon is Damon. Unpredictable, and unstable!

Though he was far from being a homicidal vampire as of late, Damon had been full of surprises, and when it came to the supernatural, Bonnie hated surprises with a passion. She supposedly read him like an open book, but now, it seems the situation has been reversed. Exhibit A, he gave her the impression that he was psychic. For all she knew, almost everyone knew about it—hell, even Bonnie knew that he was really enjoying trying to make her like him more than a friend. Hasn't this been the reason why she had been practicing to turn him down before he even asked her out?

But he didn't ask her out.

It was like Damon knew that she was planning to refuse him. For nearly a month now, Bonnie had been frustrated about this, wondering WHEN the fuck would Damon just do it so she can finally get things over with.

Bonnie was dying to reject him flat out, and she waited and waited… but he still didn't ask her out.

Despite her initial plan of denying his advances, Damon's strategy was annoying as fuck, because now Bonnie was on her toes, very close to the edge of god-knows-what. Now her quiet meditations were interrupted by questions like, "Am I just a detour?"or "Did Damon just feel the need to break my heart after he'd taken everything from me?" or "Is he just in it to put it in it?" The questions were endless—endlessly annoying, that is.

"Well, tough luck, Salvatore," Bonnie rehearsed, resuming what was becoming a regular monologue whenever she was alone. More like tough luck, Bennett, she sighed. She was supposedly a force to be reckoned with, but what she wouldn't admit was that the blue-eyed bloodsucker had a higher chance of winning a game of manipulation, especially a tricky one like this.

True, Damon didn't ask her out, but that didn't stop him from doing other things. Things like flirting with her whenever she was around, sending her stupid messages in the middle of the day, and showering her with surprise gifts every now and then. Some gifts she kept in a box under her bed, some gifts she used—like that luxury lavender shower gel from France. He was actually paying attention to her likes and dislikes, which was actually a great thing, if he was just a normal person. If Bonnie was being honest with herself, she would actually go as far to say that Mister Can't Keep It In His Pants Salvatore was actually courting her, romancing her like a true gentleman.

The fact still remains, however, that Bonnie was still not comfortable with the idea of Damon seeing her in a romantic light in general. As much as she wanted to confront him about this, whatever he was doing, she didn't want to act like she was an assuming bitch who thought that the world revolved around her. What if he was doing this to other women, too, what then? She'd look like a pathetic clown, that's what.

Besides, asking him to stop was synonymous with giving him the go. Still, she wanted to get the message across: I'm not buying this shit.

Bonnie's phone lit up again.

You shouldn't leave my gift downstairs. It's getting cold.

Frowning, she replied, Didn't ask you to get me pasta, you idiot!

Damon merely replied with a smiley sticking its tongue out. Rolling her eyes, Bonnie exited her room and sprinted down the stairs. She harshly pulled the door open and wasn't surprised to see a rather peculiar brown box on the doormat. Without checking if he was still there, she grabbed the box and slammed the door close. Stomping to the kitchen, the box squeezed against her belly, the pointy edges starting to sting, she finally deposited the box on the counter.

Then again, she thought, feeling her stomach grumble in hunger, pasta sounds good. Salivating, she opened the box, and instead of seeing food, all she saw was white and a set of sleepy eyes. The four-pawed thing began to climb out of the box, only it was too tiny, that it kept falling backwards into a cute heap of fuzzy, snow fur. Unable to help herself, she took the little baby from the box and squeezed gently against her chest. The puppy made a soft sound that tugged on Bonnie's heartstrings. Damn, he's good.

With her right hand filled with puppy, she took her phone and just as expected, she saw his message. Just so I'm clear, I sent you a Bolognese pup. So don't be a Stefan and eat our new baby.

Damon, she began to type, but backspaced when she thought it was a little too personal for her liking. Leaving his name out, she wrote, Thank you. I've never had a pet before.

Before she can send it, Damon sent her another message: In case you didn't get that, he's OUR dog, honey. So you'd have to let me in so I can help clean up after him. xo

Rolling her eyes, she erased her entire message, and sent this instead, Using an innocent to get what you want: classic Damon.

Did it work? I AM a diabolical mastermind, after all.

I'm allergic.

Allergic to fur or love?

Have to give it to you tho, Salvatore. He's adorable.

Typo, Bennett. It's supposed to be, "Salvatore, YOU'RE adorable." And you think I want you, huh?

I'm not replying after this. Nyt. Thx agn.

Take care of our little love child, k? Remember, I have visiting rights! xx

Maybe Damon just gave her one of the best presents she had ever received, but still, she wasn't going to change her mind. Seeing her reflection on the window, a sleeping puppy now at her bosom, she announced, "I'm not going to marry you, Damon Salvatore. Not in a million years."

But, looking down at her sleeping companion, she's definitely keeping this little fella.

AN: Reviews for Bamon love! ;)