So finally we're here! Chapter three! This is the chapter where I REALLY need your opinion! Do like the story? Would you like me to continue writing? Thank you on before-hand!

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DISCLAIMER: I do not own TVD or any of its characters!

When someone tells you that they're taking you to dinner, you imagine the whole 'candle lit dinner with roses on the table and a piano playing in the background' thing. New York of all places would be the perfect city to pull that off. Damon Salvatore had other plans however. We now stood in front of McDonalds in Times Square. I didn't get it. When he'd showed up at my place this evening, dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans, I'd been a bit surprised but hadn't given it much thought. Now I just felt really dressed up in my skin-tight black dress and high heels.

I looked over at Damon, asking him with my eyes whether he was serious or not. Knowing Damon - not that I actually did know him - this could all be a big joke. He shrugged.

"I didn't know what you liked to eat and everyone likes McDonalds," he said, smirking down at me. So he really was intending for us to eat here.

"Damon," I sighed. "I can't go in there like this." Like it was obvious. He looked confused as he watched me, examining me from top to toe. He apparently found no fault in the way I was dressed.

That was confirmed when he said, "What? You look beautiful."

"Yeah, thanks, but I just can't." I started to walk away but Damon gripped my wrist and spun me back around.

"Why not?" He still didn't get it.

"It's embarrassing, Damon. I'm not dressed for eating at McDonalds. If you'd told me we were going here, I would've dressed in shorts and a t-shirt, not a dress." At that, he laughed outright. Now I was confused. What was so funny about this?

"Elena, you shouldn't dress to impress others... You do it no matter what you wear. You shouldn't be embarrassed. All people will do is envy you for your stunning body and beautiful face. And really, you shouldn't give a crap about what others think of you. You're beautiful." His words shocked me into silence. I just stood there, looking at him. I hadn't even notice until now that his hand was still gripping my wrist, not hard but instead very gentle. I was struck by a thought: who was Damon Salvatore? Who was he really? Because on the outside, he wasn't your mother's ideal son-in-law, but whenever I was around him, he was so gentle with me. So sweet and caring, even if he had that stone cold surface. A part of me really wanted to try to poke some holes in that surface and see what lay underneath.

"Now," he said, interrupting yet another one of my Damon-day-dreams. I looked at him and noticed that he was now gripping my hand instead of my wrist. "will you please come inside and eat with me? I'm starving." I still wanted to run in the other direction, too insecure to walk in there. Something in the way Damon's hand held mine though, firm but gentle, made me nod, gaining the confidence to step inside the fast-food restaurant and order myself a burger in a black dress and high heels.

I didn't think I'd ever had so much fun in my entire life. Damon and I sat at a table for two, on the second floor, next to the windows which gave a beautiful view over Times Square. It hadn't taken more than five minutes of sitting there and talking to him before I forgot all about the people giving me weird looks and whispered behind my back. Sure I was really out of place in my attire, but Damon's words stuck with me. I didn't have to care what other's thought. I hadn't forgotten about the rest either. Damon thought I was beautiful. I'd heard people call me 'hot' and 'sexy' before, but never had anyone called me beautiful. It was something that people said when you came all dressed up, like at graduation or prom. People said, "Oh, you look beautiful!" but it wasn't something that was meant for me. You were kind of obligated to tell everyone that. I'd told everyone that. Words without meaning. But Damon had looked into my eyes and told me that I was beautiful. I just didn't know how to process that...

"How come you're in New York?" Damon asked out of the blue. I took one of his french fries and dipped it in the sweet and sour dressing. I shrugged and gave him the simplest answer there was.

"I'm studying here. My dad was a doctor, so I wanted to do the same."

"So you're not originally from New York?" he asked and I shook my head.

"No, I'm from Mystic Falls, Virginia. My brother still lives there." I answered to clarify. Damon nodded, as if trying to show me that he understood. He looked thoughtful as he stared out the large glass window, down at the streets below us, and I asked what he was thinking of.

"I've never been there," he said, still looking out the window and not at me. I looked down at the streets as well, not quite understanding.

"You stood there just forty minutes ago," I remarked, a laugh lingering in my voice.

"No, not Times Square. I meant Mystic Falls. I've never been there." I threw my head back and laughed at that. Damon gave me a weird look, probably thinking that I had gone crazy just now. I must've truly looked like an insane person, the way I laughed like someone had just told a hilarious joke. In a way, Damon had just done that.

"I don't think I've ever met a person who's been to Mystic Falls without actually living there. You just don't go there for your holidays," I explained to Damon so that he'd understand why I found it so funny. He nodded but said nothing. I was suddenly afraid that I had made him feel bad about himself, embarrassed. But of course, Damon wasn't embarrassed. He brushed it off, laughed along with me and the conversation kept moving on.

"So what about you, Damon? What are you doing here?" I asked, smiling at him. Smiling back at me, he rested his chin on his hand. He was looking at me as if I was the most unusual and fascinating creature known to man. It made me feel special in a way I'd never experienced before. Damon made me feel special in a way I'd never experienced before...

"When Stefan and I were kids, we used to go here with our parents during the summers. We had a little house that we lived in up on Mount Pleasant. Do you know Thornwood?" he ended with a question. I shook my head.

"I've never been there but I've heard of it."

"Well, it's a beautiful place with beautiful houses. I loved it there and so did Stefan. When our parents passed away, we never went there again. But then Stefan decided to study in New York City and I'm here to visit him now. I'm supposed to go live in the house in Thornwood but I just can't bring myself to go there. It's full of memories of my childhood..." Damon's eyes turned dark. He was clearly remembering the days when he was young and his parents were alive.

"My parents are passed away too," I said, trying to make the situation less tense. Telling someone that your parents were dead could be kind of a conversation-killer, especially if the other person had theirs in life. And when I'd spoken those words, Damon's shoulders did relax a bit.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Losing your parents is-"

I finished the sentence for him, "-hard." He held my gaze for a long minute and then nodded. Suddenly, it felt as if I knew Damon on a much more personal level. He'd gone through the same type of emotions I had when Mom and Dad died. Another thought suddenly struck me though: why had Stefan never mentioned it? He knew about my parents, so why wouldn't he tell me the truth?

"It is hard," Damon said. "Stefan rarely speaks about it. He believes that if he never mentions it, it won't be true. Not even now when he's an adult."

"My younger brother does the same thing," I replied, thinking of Jeremy and how upset he got whenever I brought up the topic of our parents' death. He hated talking about it, acting as if he could pretend it never happened and that when he got home from school, Mom and Dad would be there waiting for him. This explained why Stefan never admitted it to me. He never spoke of his parents at all, never mentioned them, and now I knew why.

"How did they die?" Damon asked bluntly. It felt weird to talk about it. When my parents had died, people had said things like, "I'm sorry for your loss," and "Your parents were great people," but no one had asked about how they died. Of course, most people knew how they died. I almost died along with them.

"Jeremy was staying at home, he had some test to study for, not that I think he actually studied... Either way, my parents and I decided to visit some of their friends whom were hosting a barbeque. On our way home..." I trailed off, having to take a deep breath before continuing. "On our way home," I tried again. "my Dad lost control of the car and we drove off a bridge, into the water. The car sank and I somehow managed to get out, I don't even remember how, I think my window was a little bit opened so I was able to break it by kicking at it. My parents were stuck though, unable to get out with me. They drowned." The story had Damon looking wide-eyed at me. It usually did have people looking at me that way. The story was after all quite tragic. I basically watched my parents die. I knew that while I was swimming to reach solid ground, my parents were still down at the bottom, their life draining out of them.

"Both of my parents were killed. First Mom and then a couple of years later, when I was older, it was Dad's turn," Damon confessed. I tried not to gasp but failed. His parents were killed? No wonder Stefan didn't talk about it. When my parents died, it was an accident, but Damon just told me that their parents were killed - murdered.

"I'm so sorry," was the only thing I could make myself say. What was there really to say. I mean, "I'm sorry," wasn't exactly going to bring them back. Neither was, "I'm sorry for your loss," the one thing you heard wherever you went when someone close to you had passed away. Still, I felt as if I should say something, so that was what I settled for.

I stole another one of Damon's fries and popped it into my mouth. My fingers were full of salt so one finger at a time, I put it in my mouth and removed the salt, licking it clean. When I glanced up, I noticed that Damon was watching me, a dark look in his eyes. I realized how intimate this must've seemed. It was kind of hot actually.

"What do you say, do you want to grab a coffee and then start heading back?" Damon asked, his voice husky. I felt a tingling sensation travel throughout my entire body and I shivered. Something about Damon made me feel alive, made my body come alive. He made me react to him in ways no other man had ever done. I wasn't sure if it was a good thing just yet, but I was sure going to find out. All I knew was that there was something special about the man sitting across from me, and it was something I wanted to get familiar with.

"Sounds like a plan," I replied, pursing my lips, then licking my tongue along my bottom lip. Damon watched me do it and again, there was something incredibly hot about it. The kind of hot that makes you want to rip someone's clothes off right then and there.

Oh, come on, Elena, a voice in my head said to me. You've known him for three days, barely that. You can't possibly be thinking these kind of things about him.

But I was. And I couldn't help myself. Couldn't stop myself.

Damon stood, offering me his hand and I took it, letting him help me up. The moment our skin touched, my entire body burst into flames - not literally. It was like an electric lightning bolt shot through him to me, and I think he felt it too. His eyes were wide and dark, gazing at me, like he couldn't quite figure me out. I sure as hell couldn't figure him out, so it was more than fair.

We made our way to Starbucks, which was just right across the square. I ordered a grande mocha latte and Damon a tall black coffee. I didn't see how people could drink such huge amount of coffee. Black coffee on top of that. We didn't sit down to drink but instead walked towards my apartment. There weren't a lot of tables to sit at either way, so it was better to just walk. A part of me was disappointed that we were going home. I didn't want the night to be over just yet. I wanted to keep talking to him. But I guess it had to end sooner or later.

We spoke of nothing in particular while walking together, side by side. He told me a bit about how he and Stefan had grown up and what he'd been doing all his life. He was mostly travelling around. He liked Europe so he often returned, especially to France. He knew French fluently so he had no trouble communicating there or in places like Switzerland and Belgium, along with much more countries. Hearing about his experiences was really interesting. It truly inspired me to start travelling as well. I wanted to see the places he described in such detail. I wanted to see the cities, the nature, wanted to smell the air and touch my feet to the ground there. The idea of going somewhere tempted me for the first time in a long time.

"Elena," Damon said when we reached my apartment building. I glanced over at him and he held my eyes with his. "I don't want this to be the last time I see you." He took a step towards me and raised his hand so that his fingers could trace my cheekbone, over my jawline and then drew his thumb over my bottom lip.

"Neither do I," I replied, the words coming out as a whisper. Damon seemed pleased with my response. He placed his other hand on the curve of my hip, drawing me closer to him. I could literally feel the heat from his body and mine got closer and closer. He lowered his face towards me, his lips only inches from mine. If I were to stand on my tip-toes, I'd kiss him. But I didn't. I'd let him close the space between us.

"Good," he whispered back, his voice husky and full of secrets and promises. I wanted to know all of those secrets and all of those promises. I wanted to know him, from top to toe. Inside and out.

Just as I thought he was leaning down to let his lips meet mine, he pulled back, standing up straight. I immediately missed his closeness, my body turning cold despite him only standing a feet away from me. I wanted his face as close as possible to mine. But Damon didn't lean back in and he didn't touch me. We just stood there and watched each other.

"Why does it feel as if we've known each other since forever?" Damon asked and finally, he lifted his hand up to my face again and cupped one of my cheeks. I leaned in to his touch. I thought about it and realized that he was right. It did feel as if we'd known each since forever. I wouldn't have been about to kiss him just now if I didn't feel that. Still it was crazy. I'd known Damon for less than three days and I was getting feelings for him. Romantic feelings.

I cleared my throat, realizing just now that all of this... it couldn't happen right now. I needed to know Damon, for real. He'd told me intimate details about his personal life, but I just wasn't sure that it was enough. I needed to get to know for real.

"I like you, Damon," I said. Damon's face lit up and a smirk spread over his lips.

"Finally!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands up in victory. "You don't hate me anymore." I laughed.

"I never hated you," I commented.

"Yes you did, it was obvious. You got pissed no matter what I said. And finally, you don't. Do you have any idea how great that is?" We both laughed. I had hated him a little bit I guess.

"No, but listen, Damon..." I said, serious again. "I like you, but I think we're moving too fast. We haven't even began to get to know each other for real yet, but I'd love to do that. And I think we should tell Stefan that we know each other." Damon's face went from happy and excited to horrified. His entire posture changed, turning rigid. It surprised me because it was almost the same reaction as when I'd asked him whether he wanted to see Stefan, the day we'd met at the campus. Even when we spoke of his brother, he seemed to get uncomfortable. Why was that?

"Don't tell Stefan," was all he said. My eyebrows shot up in surprise. I opened my mouth to ask him why, but he interrupted me before I could even begin speaking, "Just don't tell him." There was such tension between us. Awkward tension, and really, all I wanted now was to climb the stairs and head up to my place. The desire to stay around Damon for just another minute was gone. I wanted to get away from him. Why couldn't I tell Stefan that we knew each other? It wasn't like we were dating, despite the fact that he'd almost kissed me tonight. Nothing had happened. It wasn't like Stefan could kick his ass for hanging out with me or eating at McDonalds together with me. So what the hell was his business? Was he ashamed of me? Didn't he want Stefan to know because he was embarrassed to be with me? Was he afraid that Stefan would think something that wasn't true and Damon would have to feel ashamed of it? If not any of those things, then what?

"I need to head up," I said, all sweetness and warmth that had been in my voice before, now vanished like a grain of sand in an ocean. Damon didn't even seem to care. He was too concentrated on whatever it was he was thinking about.

Despite that, he said, "I'll follow you up."

"No." He looked confused, so I clarified, "I don't need you to follow me up. I'll be fine." I paused, thinking about what to say next - if I was going to say something else. I settled for, "Thank you for tonight, Damon." I turned around and headed inside. The code to the building contained of six numbers: 658872

"Oh my God..." It came out as a gasped out whisper as it struck me. The door clicked open but I didn't step inside. Instead, I whirled around to face Damon again but he was already gone. Like he'd travelled with the wind. Vanished. No traces of him ever standing here. But I knew that he'd been here because he'd been in my apartment. He'd gotten into the building without me telling him the code. Twice. Once when I'd been unconscious. How the hell had he done that? Everyone living here was smart enough not to have told him and after the way he'd reacted to Stefan knowing about us, I doubted he'd been the one to tell his brother. So how did Damon know the code to my building?

I looked from side to side, trying to spot him walking down one of the streets. One of the streetlights flickered on and off, the lamp broken. The other ones cast a orange-yellow-ish light over the dark pavement. Still, no Damon. No man with black hair and brilliant blue eyes.

I turned around and typed in the code again, since the door had closed behind me. My mind was blank. No actually, it was focused on one single thought: who the hell was Damon Salvatore? A thousand questions formed around that thought. I didn't know if I should be scared of him or not. Damon didn't scare me and I think that I would've felt it if he did. He pissed me off sometimes but he never scared me. I wasn't afraid of him, I concluded. He was a mystery: a mystery that I wanted to solve.

I unlocked my apartment and stepped inside. I didn't bother to take my shoes off but headed straight for my computer. I threw my purse on the floor, knowing I wouldn't find it tomorrow but I didn't care. I typed in 'Damon Salvatore' in the Google search field. I got several links but most of them were ads. The only ones that were actually related to the Damon I was looking for, was his facebook page and contact details. Frustration almost made me throw the damn computer at the floor, but I held myself back. Destroying my computer wouldn't do me any good.

I decided to sleep on it and perhaps tomorrow I'd know what to do about all of this. I could call him of course, ask him directly. I had a sneaking suspicion that he wouldn't want to give me any answers though.

I headed to bed, not even caring to brush my teeth. I just undressed down to my underwear and jumped straight into bed, crawling under the cold covers. I lay there, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about today. I'd woken up with butterflies in my stomach but I went to bed with a big lump in my throat. How on Earth was I going to get any rest until I knew the truth? Something about Damon wasn't right. Whether it was good or bad, I wasn't sure of until I knew what exactly that something was.

And that's when it hit me. When I realized how I would get my answers. There was only one person who truly knew Damon, and that person was his brother, Stefan. I wasn't entirely sure whether Stefan would have an answer or not to my question, but I knew that if he didn't no one would. I was sure however, that if he did have the answers, he'd share them.

I wasn't going to dwell over that now though. For now, I was just going to close my eyes and await the next day. It was going to be a long day full of questions and - hopefully - some answers... With that, my eyes closed and I drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

In order for no confusion to occur: the story is AH! So no, Damon is NOT a vampire. Guess you'll have to come up with another explanation... Okay, so again. This is the chapter where I'll really need your opinion! So leave a review, thumbs up or down? Yay or Nay? Tell me and what you think I should do better or keep doing! :D I really appreciate your support.

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